CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The Tournament is more than a competition—it’s a show, and all of Virdei and our Petruvian guests are the audience.
At the end of the Tournament, the new Praeceptor sits down with the Petruvian visitors to make revisions to the flimsy treaty and maintain their tentative peace.
Petruvia will be watching the Tournament closely, seeking flaws and weaknesses they can exploit.
They’ll pounce on any excuse to revise the terms of the treaty in their favor.
Ten years ago, the Honorate who won the throne performed poorly and was forced to cede more land to Petruvia than Virdei was willing to part with.
The Republic was displeased. Luc can’t afford a poor showing.
“I’ll be discreet. I always am.” I pause as we dance past a group of people who watch us curiously. I stay quiet until we sway out of earshot. “As for everything else, I’ll learn. I’m a quick study.”
“These will be physical challenges. Lucien studied swordplay and combat at the finest academy in Virdei. I assume Arliss ensured the Vale boy did as well. You have no physical skills to speak of. You will be outmatched in every trial.”
I bite the inside of my cheek against the urge to spill my thoughts.
Yes, Luc attended Holsbane Academy, and yes, he studied warfare as well as academics, but he was a below-average student.
The only reason he graduated was because if he ever fell behind in a course, all it took was a firm word from Mathson Kyler for the problem to miraculously disappear.
“I am warning you, Remira, if you lose—” His words stall as he glances over my shoulder.
It’s my only warning before someone jostles me from behind.
“My apologies.” I half turn to address the person at my back, even though they bumped into me. “I wasn’t watching where I was . . .” I stop speaking.
Kaidren Vale stands behind me, annoyingly handsome, impeccably dressed, and very uninvited.
Words fail me as his mouth stretches into a broad grin. “Remira. What a surprise.” He says that, but he doesn’t look surprised to see me. He looks like a wolf that just cornered a sheep. Meanwhile, I’m so startled by his sudden appearance, I say nothing.
Kaidren mistakes my shock for confusion. “Kaidren Vale. The new Honorate. We met yesterday, remember?”
“Oh.” I swallow, trying to hide how flustered I am. Why do I keep letting him catch me off guard? “Of course. Lovely to see you again.”
Kaidren turns his disarming smile to Mathson.
“Sir, can I steal her for a dance?” His voice is smooth and charming, but I catch a taunting glint in those deep brown eyes.
Kaidren publicly challenged Mathson’s son to a Tournament of Thrones, showed up uninvited to a private event at his home, and is asking to dance with his daughter.
It’s a move so bold, I’d take notes if I wasn’t panicking.
A dance with Kaidren is dangerous. For him, because bad things happen to people I despise. For me, because one touch from him and my world crumbles.
I look pleadingly at Mathson, trying to convey with my eyes that he has to refuse, for both our sakes. But we’re drawing curious looks, and the last thing Mathson Kyler wants is a scene.
“Of course. So long as you promise to bring her back in one piece.” Mathson releases my arm and, without looking at me, walks away.
Kaidren extends a hand to me, brows raised expectantly. “Shall we?”
Neither of us is wearing gloves. My throat feels tight and itchy. “Actually, I’m . . .” I scramble for an excuse. “Hungry.”
Kaidren doesn’t miss a beat. He lowers his hand and holds out the crook of his elbow instead. “Then let’s get food.”
This is safer, but I tug my sleeves over my hands, still tense as I loop my arm through his. I lean my body away from his as we walk.
Kaidren smiles as he guides me through dancing guests toward a table along the back wall filled with food.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Remira Kyler.
” He emphasizes my surname with a smirk.
“You failed to mention you’re the Praeceptor’s sister.
” The good humor in his expression makes it clear he’s teasing, not genuinely upset I didn’t tell him.
“You didn’t ask for a family history.” I mimic his playful tone.
“I asked for your surname.”
We reach the table, and I immediately drop his arm and step back. “Most people here already know who I am. I enjoyed the anonymity.” I draw in my brows pleadingly. “I hope you’re not upset with me?”
“Not at all.” Without asking, he begins preparing a plate for me.
I watch over his shoulder, pleasantly surprised when he puts a generous heaping of goat stew on the porcelain plate—my favorite. “I didn’t realize my father included the new Honorate on the guest list.”
Kaidren moves on to the next dish (roasted potatoes) and drops his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Depends how scandalous it is.”
He chuckles. With a quick glance around to ensure there’s no one near us, he leans in, breath ghosting my ear. “I wasn’t invited.”
I pretend to be shocked as I draw back. “Really? Then why are you here?”
His grin softens. “To see you again, of course.”
A blatant lie. Kaidren always has an ulterior motive, and judging by the way he’s shamelessly flirting with me, he’s willing to toy with my emotions to get what he wants.
He could just treat me like the rest of the Honorate and pretend I don’t exist. This is crueler. I’d rather a man ignore me than play me for a fool.
Still, I flutter my lashes and duck my head with a shy grin like I don’t see him for what he is. “Really?”
He chuckles. “You sound surprised, but I told you I want us to be friends.”
“I thought you were just being kind.”
“I wasn’t.” His gaze is bright and earnest. “I couldn’t help but notice you and your father seemed to be having an intense conversation.”
Right on cue. His seamless transition from friend to snoop. “You overheard us?”
“No, but it looked serious. Is everything all right?” He hands me my finished plate.
“Thank you.” I’m not actually hungry, so I pick at it idly and keep my focus on him. “We were talking about the Tournament and how thrilling it’s going to be. You must be excited.”
Kaidren’s usual confidence sputters. It’s subtle, but for a moment he looks nervous, before that carefully crafted smile returns. “I saw the last Tournament. Just a glimpse. My aunt took me up the mountain to watch. We sat in the very back of the arena, but I could see everything.”
“What was it like?”
He hesitates for a few moments, considering. “It was exhilarating. One of the most exciting things I’d ever seen.”
Heat. I trail my eyes over his face, searching the nuances of his expression, trying to guess what he doesn’t say. “You must’ve been young. You weren’t scared?”
He seems surprised by the question. “I— well, maybe a little.”
I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
He wavers a bit longer before releasing a sigh and a rueful grin. “Fine. You caught me. I was terrified. I still have nightmares from that day.”
“Nightmares about what?”
He shudders. “Watching someone die.”
His voice is raw—real. It terrifies me.
The last Tournament was ten years ago. News of its brutality reached my mother and me in Ophera. That year, there were four candidates. Two of them nearly died, and at least seven aikkari soldiers did die.
At the time, I didn’t care. Powerful men are violent and irrational. If they wanted to kill each other, so be it. Now . . . the powerful man in question is Luc, and the person responsible for keeping him alive is me.
“But you don’t need to worry.” My words are directed at Kaidren, but I’m trying to reassure the both of us. “Honorate don’t die in the Tournament.”
“No, but soldiers do.”
“You’ll protect them. I was just telling my father how I was nervous for my brother. He reminded me that Luc received all the training he needs at Holsbane. I’m sure whatever academy you attended prepared you just as well.”
“Um—” Kaidren’s smooth surface cracks as he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. You’re probably right. Is your brother nervous?”
“No, he couldn’t be more excited.” I speak absently, hardly paying attention to my own lie. I’m distracted by the sudden heat coursing through me. Kaidren didn’t attend an academy. An Honorate who didn’t study in Virdei is unheard of. When the rest of the mountain hears about this . . .
Kaidren’s eyes fall to something over my shoulder. He chuckles. “Your mother is glaring like she wants to murder me. Does she—”
It takes me a beat too long to realize he means Yelina. I’m snarling before I remember myself. “That woman is not my mother.”
Kaidren blinks at me, startled by the outburst.
My eyes widen and I duck my head, shamefaced. “I-I’m so sorry.” I can’t believe I just did that.
“I should be the one apologizing,” Kaidren says. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t.” Any fool can see that’s not true. I clear my throat. “That’s Luc’s mother. My stepmother. I should—uh—probably go see what she wants.” I set my mostly untouched plate on the table. “Good luck in the Tournament.”
The smile he gives me is broad and teeming with misplaced confidence. “Thank you. But I won’t need it.”
I smile back as though he’s right.
Cutting through the crowd, I pretend to make my way to Yelina, but once I’m out of Kaidren’s eyeline, I shift direction to search for Luc instead. I find him on the edge of the dance floor. His eyes widen with guilt when he sees me. “I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth.
I fold my arms derisively. “You promised you’d be by my side all night.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I was watching you the whole time.”
If anything, that makes it worse. “Your father left me with Kaidren Vale.” I lower my voice, but frustration sharpens my tone. “He’s an isha. If he had touched me—”
“He didn’t.”
My nostrils flare. “You didn’t know he wouldn’t.”
“I know you. You’d never let that happen.”
I want to scream. “What if he had? Would you have bothered to step in?”
I watch him process the question. See more guilt flicker over his expression.
I’m more than angry. I’ve been angry my whole life—she is my close and personal friend.
I know how to handle rage, how to trap it within me and frost it with ice and a smile.
This is deeper than that. This is a visceral kind of betrayal that follows going unseen by someone you were foolish enough to trust.
I wish I was only angry. My heart is sturdy. Rage alone can’t melt it. It’s a lethal combination of fury and sorrow that causes me to falter—heartbreak.
Heavy, racing footsteps approach from behind. I know even before I turn who it is. Mathson and Yelina are bright and cheery to the casual observer, but I know them. I see the tension they carry in their shoulders, the way their grins are more eerie than kind. They are hungry for blood—mine.
Yelina takes my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Why did I see you speaking with Kaidren Vale?” That narrow, vicious snarl she calls a smile doesn’t slip as she speaks through her teeth.
“Ask your husband. He’s the one who left me with him.”
Yelina doesn’t shift her gaze from me. “I’m not a fool. I saw the way you were looking at each other.”
I force my eyes not to roll out of my head.
Kaidren’s act to flirt his way into my confidence had no effect on me, but clearly, it was convincing enough for Yelina.
“The only thing I want from Kaidren is for him to drop dead. I assure you, the stars will freeze in hell before I allow myself to be charmed by someone like Kaidren Vale.”
My conversation with Kaidren wasn’t a total waste. He’s an isha desperate to prove himself, and now I know what bait to dangle before him.
Luc will win the first trial. I’ll make sure of it. The world will watch as he earns the throne for a second term. And then, I’m going to use Kaidren’s pride against him and trick him into quitting the Tournament altogether.
Win Luc the throne, and get rid of the only person in Widow’s Hall with the power to destroy me, in one fell swoop.