Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Every year I was surprised to discover which gods found the most mortals worthy.
A few years ago, only one man was chosen by the God of Light and Darkness, Jesper.
He was given a topaz gemstone, along with the ability to manipulate shadows and create blinding light at will.
The year before that, the goddess Sloane did not select anyone to give an emerald jewel to.
That came as a surprise, because the Goddess of Nature usually gifted a large number.
I followed instructions and lined up in my row, giving my peers a quick glance and noting a lot of sapphire stones this year. Interesting. Wished I was one of them.
Once we were all stationed in our assigned groups, the king's advisor—whose name I learned was Lucan—began to hustle up and down each row.
One by one, each new student gave Lucan their name, followed by the god or goddess who had chosen them.
Lucan confirmed the details, then announced them to the crowd of Caelestians watching intently.
In between each student, he took a moment to document the data on some parchment for the academy's census.
Because I was one of the last on the platform, I was consequently in the last group. At least an hour passed before the advisor made it to my section.
“Name?” Lucan asked the first in my row.
“Anora Faintree,” a young woman replied.
“State your jewel.”
“Amethyst.”
Lucan peered at her hand through the lenses of his glasses, and nodded with confirmation of the violet stone in her flesh.
He straightened his posture. “Anora Faintree. Gifted by the Goddess of Health and Healing, Eloise. Presented with the ability to heal those injured.” Lucan's voice bellowed through the courtyard.
Anora beamed as she waved to the crowd, her gemstone on full display to the kingdom who cheered for her. It was going to be awkward when it was my turn and I had no gemstone on my hand to flaunt.
Once the excitement died down, Lucan cleared his throat, and moved on to the next in my row. My fists clenched as he got closer and closer to me.
The student right before me was gifted by the God of the Weather, Zenith. His onyx stone did not reflect light as well as the other jewels, but it sparkled all the same as he shook his wrist when announced to the kingdom.
When the crowd quieted, Lucan moved on. He didn't look up from his parchment as he stopped in front of me and my chest constricted as he spoke. “Name?”
“Maeve Willawood,” I reported.
Lucan scribbled down my name without so much as glancing at me. “State your jewel.”
I bit my tongue, stopping myself from giving an incorrect answer. I thought that my jewels were diamonds, but I also wasn't confident that they weren't just really pale sapphires.
I shuffled uncomfortably. This really shouldn't have been so hard to figure out.
Lucan cleared his throat, and there was no warmth in his tone when he repeated, “State your jewel.”
My body temperature rose as I noticed the others in my row watching me hesitate. My cheeks flushed in response to their steady gazes. I diverted any attention wasted on them and used all of my focus to form words.
“Um, I am not quite sure, sir.” My voice quaked in a whisper.
Lucan sighed, rolling his beady eyes away from his parchment to look at me. He squinted at my hands, searching for my jewel, but obviously not finding it.
Brows furrowed, he raised his eyes to my face, narrowing them as he silently judged my ignorance. He looked as though he was going to speak—probably to ask why I was even up here—but his mouth clenched shut when he settled on the location of my gemstones.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.
The king's advisor reached a hand out, brushing a finger over my cheek without asking.
Just as he did, a cloud parted in the sky, and the inescapable blaze of the sun beamed down onto us.
A glimmer of green light bounced off of the emerald in his hand, partially blinding me as the rays were absorbed by my irises.
I turned my neck to avoid the glare and Lucan tilted his head to follow, giving himself a better look at my jewels.
He studied them for what felt like forever.
My vision scurried around the students next to me, who wore similar expressions of awe at the location of my jewels. Then without a word, Lucan returned his hands to himself and walked off.
I followed him with my eyes as he scurried to the throne, his compact legs carrying him faster than I’d expected. He immediately began to prattle to King Hawthorne, whose hands were crossed as he absorbed the given information.
My body was completely still as I watched them discuss me.
The only movement I allowed for was the rise and fall of my chest. Tension built inside of me as minutes passed of their attention flipping between themselves and me.
My stomach rolled over, and I had to look away to avoid gagging all over the stage.
Without notice, Lucan reappeared. His expression was much too serious for my liking, and a rush of panic forced my insides to clench again. My nails drew blood as they cut into my palms, the pain distracting me from my worsening nausea.
“What’s going on?” My voice shook, but I forced the words out regardless. I needed answers, but Lucan deprived me of that request.
“Please follow me,” he said, not giving me a chance to counter before he pivoted and marched back to the king.
I could hardly feel my legs, but I did as he instructed, following closely behind the small man.
Students whispered as we passed by their rows before coming to a halt in front of the king.
Peering to the sides of my shoulders, I noticed how all ten of his head soldiers glared at me, not even trying to disguise their shock.
A pair of deep blue eyes glimmered in my peripheral vision, but I disregarded the soldier's gaze. The king rose from his seat, pushing off of the arm rests and moving so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my skin.
King Hawthorne muttered to himself as he inspected my jewels carefully, his focus steady. I flinched at the unexpected touch as he, too, put his hands on me. He stroked the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, and my jaw clenched in response.
“Unbelievable,” he described my jewels with the same word as his advisor had. He pulled away from my personal space and crossed his arms over his chest, his position of power making me feel so small. “Maeve, you said your name was?” he asked for clarification.
I swallowed the pit in my stomach and nodded.
“My dear, are you aware of the rarity of the stones that embellish your skin?”
“Apparently not,” I murmured, sounding more sarcastic than I had meant to.
The king's forehead creased, but he did not retaliate against my tone.
I cleared my throat and sputtered out a real answer. “I know it's strange that my jewels are on my face, and even more odd that I have three. But I really don't understand why everyone is looking at me as though I am cursed.”
As the words left my lips, a spark of concern pricked my skin. Something was not right. I should have considered the possibility that maybe I was an anomaly—a defect. Why didn't I question that more? My situation was entirely too unique. Unheard of.
I clamped my fists closed and forced myself to internalize that worry for the time being.
King Hawthorne chuckled, grinning in such a way that should have brought me peace, but instead did the opposite. “No, Maeve Willawood. You are far from cursed,” he countered my claim.
My forehead creased and I shook my head. “Then I don't understand, I—”
“You are not cursed,” Lucan chimed in.
“You are the most blessed of them all.”
While everyone else was getting one last chance to say goodbye to their loved ones, I was whisked away into the throne room as soon as the ceremony finished with one of the head soldiers escorting me. Lucan followed behind us, his petite legs suffering to try and keep up with the soldier’s pace.
Lucan never even announced my name or gemstone to the crowd. He just stated that my gift was of unknown sorts, then rushed through the rest of the students. I couldn't have cared less—there was enough attention on me, anyway. Giving the crowd a name to work with would have just added to that.
The look illustrated on Delani’s face when I was ushered off the stage would be eternally branded into my mind. I couldn’t accurately describe the expression. It was something of utter horror. Panic. I was unable to get a good look at my mother, but was sure she had the same expression.
I was just as conflicted as they must have been, and I hated that I had no way of telling them what had happened to me. At least I wouldn't have to see their faces if I was on my way to be killed.
I sauntered along behind the soldier, who had not said a word since he took me away from the ceremony.
He brought me inside through the main entryway, then steered me through the twisted, winding hallways of the castle, all the way to the throne room.
I was instantly taken aback by the magnificent beauty of the space.
The walls must have been at least twenty feet tall, and were coated in detailed paneling.
Every other panel was engraved with intricate floral designs painted in gold, while the ones in between were a deep shade of green.
The drop ceilings were carved from oak, and in the middle of the channeled gridwork hung a glittering chandelier, lit with hundreds of finger-sized candlesticks.
I dropped my head in admiration of the floor I walked upon. The luxurious oak boards were arranged into a herringbone pattern, and were so shiny that I feared stepping on them would ruin their luster.