Chapter 6
Braxton
I use my hand to cover the blinding light coming from between my eyelids, furrowing my brows together. A few faces appear above me, and I snap my eyes close, counting to three before opening them again.
“Great, you’re up,” a familiar voice whispers.
“At least you saved me from fighting today,” the voice says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I open my eyes and turn to the voice. I stare right into the poisonous green eyes of my brother who is smirking.
I sit up, not sure why I am still lying here on the first hand.
“Jeezz, you scared me to death, kid.” Fintan sighs, running towards me, ignoring the group of people he was just talking to.
“It is nothing, I am fine,” I growl. I climb up, my legs still shaking as I do. My fingers brush my skin, next to the spot that makes my head pound so much, but there is no wound to be found. All there is left is a scar the size of a grape.
“Where is my next fight?” I say under my breath, glaring at my trainer. Fintan responds to that, not showing any emotion.
“It is over there. It is okay to take a break you know, kid?”
“As I said before, I am fine,” I hiss, stomping towards my next fight, feeling kind of offbeat, ignoring my pounding head. “Seven more to go, right?” I ask my trainer, stretching my fingers. He nods, giving me a little, not so happy smile.
I ignore him.
There I go, straight into my future.
The candidates are chosen. The last seven fights went okay.
Five candidates lasted ten minutes and the other two I won.
My anger didn’t rule me these times. I felt in control of my emotions and didn’t let my mask slip—it will never happen again.
In total, eight participants won or lasted during the fight with me, which makes including me and the secret candidates ten in total.
Everybody has gone home, including the fresh new candidates.
They needed to freshen up, because tomorrow, ten days before the trials, their names will be announced to the rest of the continent.
Afterwards, they can go back home for four days, to celebrate with their loved ones.
They are given four days of relaxation and expected back with seven days to go to prepare at the palace.
Or at least that is what I overheard the guards saying to each other.
I hear a girl giggle as I walk through the forest at the end of our garden.
“Stop making fun of me and start praying.” The girl giggles.
“Be quiet, dear,” a familiar, raw man’s voice interrupts.
“Stop calling me after an animal and maybe then you will get what you want,” the girl purrs.
I take a step forward, trying to get a view of who are fooling around.
My brother and the redhead from earlier, whose name is Hazel, are standing very close.
She looks over her shoulder at him, nose crunched up and arms folded over each other as my brother steps behind her.
Putting his arm around her and holding her.
Apparently, he is capable of love. It is not really my business, so I take a left instead of my normal route.
I need to walk a bit further but that is fine, better than interrupting their moment and making it all awkward again.
Hazel is also in the trials. She fought against me.
She has a nature signet. She used her signet to tie me to the ground.
Her plants crawled to me. I used my sword to cut myself loose.
She is feisty and held out the ten minutes of our fight, so she is in.
I am not sure if she should be happy about it.
Maybe she is tricking my brother in letting her win?
No, it can’t be. He doesn’t know what is going to happen in these trials either as far as I know.
I shake my head. What does my brother have to do with these trials?
I keep marching deeper into the woods that belong to our garden.
In the distance I can see my destination.
I shut my mind off and try to keep it off until I arrive.
With my left shoulder I shove into the rusty oak door of my hiding spot.
It opens with difficulty. I step inside of the little house—my little house.
I turn the light switch on and the whole place changes from a derelict place, to a beautiful, brightened cabin.
It is small, but perfect. There are windows everywhere.
If you open the door, you come into an open room.
On the left side there is a staircase which leads to a small loft.
I climb up the wooden stairs, every step creaking under my weight.
In the loft, against the window, is a small desk.
Everywhere I look are drawings. On the floor, the walls, and even some on the ceiling.
It is my secret drawing place. Sometimes everything feels like too much.
The king for example. Whenever I need to clear my mind I go over here and draw my heart out.
I plop down on the beanbag beside my desk, grabbing a clipboard from the side.
With the sun shining on my face, I shut my mind off and do what I can do best.
I draw.
I draw and draw, till the morning comes.
Time’s passing by fast, and I am not letting sleep take me.
Not letting my nightmares drag me away again.
I draw and draw until my hands are sore, but no blister appears on my calloused hands.
I draw and draw until my eyes can’t stay open anymore and a horrendous scream fills my ears.
I skip some of the steps, trying to get down as fast as possible.
I slam the door open using my signet. My gaze scans the place, looking for the person that screamed so badly.
There is a girl, sitting on a stone, next to a tree, holding her hand in front of her mouth.
She has blonde, long hair, blue eyes, and a red face from shock. I curse under my breath.
Manes.
I thought someone was getting killed right in front of me. I stroll towards her, her eyes widening as I get closer.
“What are you doing here?” she shrieks, fidgeting her hair nervously.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is my garden, you know? I could better ask you, what are you doing here? And what made you scream like your fingers were getting cut off?” I hiss, raising an eyebrow.
“I, uhm,” she whispers, looking kind of ashamed. “There was a snake and I, well… yeah. I am a lady, and I don’t think I should be taking care of snakes around your palace.” She shrugs.
Well, this girl or women is something else. Feeling kind of annoyed, I let out a sigh.
“What were you doing here anyway?”
“I was walking through the garden before I went to the palace to be announced as a candidate for the trials,” the blonde girl says, lifting her chin high. It explains why I recognized her from somewhere.
“You?” I scold, but I fight the urge to allow a smirk to appear on my lips. “You’re going to the trials even though you’re scared of a little snake?”
“Well, normally my father takes them away from me when we’re training in the forest, and we don’t have that many at home,” she says, trying to find an explanation for her weird behavior. This is just another spoiled brat. I can’t help but roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Well good luck walking alone, because I am going to head back to the palace.” I turn around, walking away from this platinum blonde girl. “Wait for me!” she interrupts, making me stop. “I am not sure if I will find my way back,” she screams frantically, running over to me.
We walk back to the palace together, both with our lips sealed.
“Gwen, the king would like for you to get ready,” a servant shrieks as she hurries towards us. Her hair is standing in every direction and her face looks red and flustered. The girl next to me, Gwen her name seems to be, sharpens her eyes.
“It is miss for you,” she hisses, lifting her bony chin up in the air. I shoot my face in her direction, narrowing my eyes as I speak the next words very carefully.
“In this palace, everyone who isn’t the king will be called by their name,” I chime in. That isn’t really true, but she better believe it. The servant widens her eyes.
“Thank you, sir,” she stutters, her face reddening even more. “Braxton I mean,” she corrects herself in a whisper, lifting her dress up in a bow before she takes Gwen to the dressing room.
I look at myself in the mirror, my hand reaching for my chin, fingers touching the light stubble that is starting to appear.
I look more dead than alive, the purple eye bags confirming my thoughts.
I throw a blouse and trousers on and don’t bother to shave.
The king doesn’t care about my appearance anyway.
I push the door of the small auditorium open, my eyes wondering off towards the number of people already sitting there.
“You can sit here, sir, next to the other candidates,” a guard that walks up to me announces, stretching his hand in clarification.
My mind stays stuck on him calling me sir, but I don’t correct him.
I lift my chin in the air, proving myself to be better.
I might be a prince but otherwise from calling me sir they don’t treat me as one.
I get in line, putting myself in the front row, behind eight other candidates who are looking fine.
I follow them as they sit down nervously, tapping their feet, wiping their sweaty hands on the chair.
I sit down in the last seat at the end, leaving one empty chair on the left.
On my right is a girl with black, short hair, chestnut brown eyes, a nose piercing, and a lot of other piercings and tattoos that go up towards her chin.
“You have some nerve showing up with an attitude like that,” she hisses.
“Like what?” I look at her, locking my jaw, kind of surprised by her reaction.