Chapter 6
?──── Serenya ? ────?
The scent of honeyed bread and wild herbs clings to my cloak as I step into my father’s chamber, balancing a tray with a teacup and warm rolls. The morning sun filters through the heavy curtains, casting golden rays across the marble floor.
I didn’t end up coming straight here like I had planned.
After seeing Torin and Koen, I lingered, watching the Trial begin.
The council chose men well, but as each champion stepped forward, I felt the weight of it all.
They could have just walked to their deaths—for me, for the crown.
My stomach sinks at the thought. I shake my head, clearing it, and continue into my father’s room.
King Thalon lies propped against his pillows, pale but still dignified, his once-powerful frame diminished beneath his silver-threaded robes. His black hair, which normally falls just below his shoulder, is pulled into a bun today. When he sees me, the stern lines of his face soften.
“You’re up early, Renya,” he rasps.
“I brought your favorites,” I say, setting the tray beside him. “Honey and that ridiculous fig jam the cook insists you adore.”
He chuckles lowly . “Fig jam. The only good thing that came from that cursed summer harvest.”
I press my hands to his chest, letting the familiar thrum of magic flow from my palms. A cool ripple of shadowlight seeps into his veins. It never quite heals him, but it eases the pain. As always, his body relaxes, though the weariness beneath his bones lingers.
“I watched the Trial begin,” I murmur .
He lifts a brow. “And?”
“I hate that only humans are forced to participate. It’s too dangerous for them.”
“If they can prove themselves in these trials, with their magic and bodies being weaker than a fae’s, then they are proving they are strong enough to defend their kingdom.
Besides, they sign up of their own free will.
They are not forced unless they try to back out after being chosen from the applicants.
” He pauses. “You know, I was one of those humans once.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just…wish things didn’t have to be this way,” I whisper.
“I know, Renya,” he says with a sad smile. “Tell me, what are the champions like?”
I hesitate, but I know I can talk to him about anything. “There is one man I couldn’t help watching more than the others.” I don’t say Koen’s name aloud, as if that might make the strange pull I feel toward him too real. “There’s something…different about him.”
“A dangerous kind of different ?”
“No. I don’t think so. But it unsettles me,” I say quietly. “I don’t like it.”
He gives me a soft smile and pats the bed beside him. “Come. Sit with your old father and let me tell you of the trials when I was young. My own, and the ones my parents told to me long before.”
I smile faintly and curl beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. He smells faintly of cedar and the bitter herbs the healers give him.
“When I entered the trials,” he begins, “I was only twenty years old. Reckless. Certain that I would triumph simply because I was confident in my strength. And then the drake came.” His voice dips lower.
My breath catches. “A drake? I thought they were just in bedtime stories.”
He chuckles, but it’s strained. “Yes, a drake. Black-scaled, the size of a carriage, with breath that hissed like acid. Its fire clung to the flesh. Half the men ran before the beast even moved. The others were consumed in moments.”
I shiver at the image. “What about you?”
“I was a fool,” he says softly. “I thought courage meant standing tall with my sword raised high. The fire took me before I struck a single blow. My arm was burned from shoulder to wrist.” He slowly pulls back his sleeve, revealing skin with faint scars. “That’s where I got this.”
My chest aches as I trace the mark lightly with my fingertips. I’ve seen it many times before, but he never told me how he’d gotten it. He hasn’t spoken much of his trials before.
“I fell and thought it was over,” he continues.
“I remember the stench of burning flesh, the screams, and the taste of ash in my mouth. Then…” His eyes glint, even in his weariness.
“I remembered the stories my father had told me about the old champions who endured not through strength, but wit. So I dragged myself toward the tunnels where water dripped from the stone. Each step felt like it would be my last, but the drake followed me. I led it where its fire could not burn as bright, and when it faltered, I struck.”
“You killed it?” My voice is hushed.
“I survived it,” he corrects gently. “There is a difference.”
I lean into him, heart heavy and proud all at once.
“And the other stories?” I ask quietly.
His smile warms. “Ah, yes. My grandfather told me of the year of the pixies. Hundreds of them, shrieking and laughing in the catacombs, impossible to strike down. In the end, the victor was not the strongest or fastest, but the one who sang to them. A lullaby, of all things. They carried him to the chamber like a child.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’re teasing me.”
“Not at all,” he says. “The royal line is built on such stories. We are not crowned because we are invincible, but because we endure. Endurance wins more than the sword ever can.” His hand closes weakly around mine. “Remember that, Renya. When the time comes, it may be all that saves you.”
His words echo in my mind, even after his voice slows and softens. Soon, his words drift into silence as sleep takes him.
Careful not to wake him, I pull the blanket up around his shoulders, press a kiss to his temple, and slip from the bed. I quietly leave his chambers and make my way outside.
The forest welcomes me with birdsong. Branches part to reveal a field, wild and vibrant.
A soft wind stirs my hair as I cross into the sea of glimmering flowers that don’t just shine under the sun, but flare with a pale light.
They make the surrounding greenery seem dull by comparison.
My boots brush petals that once caught our laughter.
I pause at the edge of the clearing, and my gaze catches on a weathered stone. Kallan had carved our initials into it once, a crooked heart surrounding them. I run my fingers over the faded letters, and my chest tightens.
I press my hand to my heart. An aching emptiness usually follows thoughts of him, but this time, something else lingers there, too.
The memory of Koen’s golden eyes just before he stepped through the portal. The subtle tension in his jaw, the way his magic had shimmered faintly against his skin, like it was trying to escape. A magic I hadn’t seen before.
Why did I get this strange feeling whenever I looked at him?
I don’t feel anything like that with the other champions.
When I saw him this morning, I forgot that I had spent the night crying.
For a moment, when we locked eyes, it felt like he had already won, and my heart just wanted to go right to him.
And I did, without thinking. Thank the stars I was able to stop myself from doing something stupid at the last second, but it scared me.
I was so caught off guard by the pull I felt towards him that I had forgotten I didn’t even like the man.
I don’t want to feel anything for anyone. But my magic does. Even now, my shadows stir beneath my skin and tug in a way they haven’t in the years since we lost Kallan.
“I won’t betray him,” I whisper to the wind, to my shadows. Maybe just to myself. The wind does not answer, and my shadows don’t stop reaching.
I stay longer than I mean to. The sun begins to set as I step out of the field. A flutter above me cuts through the silence.
My gaze snaps upward just as a black-winged form dives toward me. The bat circles me once, so unnervingly slow, eyeing me with contempt. Then, it drops a small scroll at my feet before flying back off into the trees.
I stare at the crimson wax and the strange shimmer of magic pulsing faintly beneath it. I haven't seen this seal in decades. But I know who it belongs to.
Dimitri. The vampire prince. Now, vampire king.
Dread fills me as I bend and pick up the scroll. I unroll it carefully, ready for poison. Or worse. But there are no threats. Only a single line:
“Come alone. Sundown. The ruins near Elderglen.”
No reason. No signature. Not that I needed one.
I crush the scroll in my fist, pulse racing. Why now?
My first instinct is to ignore it. Toss it into the lake and forget it. Something nags at me, though. Dimitri never does anything without a purpose, and he hasn't once contacted me since the war ended.
…Since I killed his father.
Yet here he is, asking for a secret meeting. And worse, I'm considering it.
I turn the scroll over again, searching for more. Something I might have missed. But there is nothing else. Just the silence of the trees and the soft whistle of the wind.
I should just go back to the palace. I really mean to go back. Instead, my boots take me off the trail and towards Elderglen.
The ruins are quiet when I arrive, silver light from the moon pools between the jagged remains of old stone and tangled roots.
Wind blows through the broken archways like voices long gone.
A once-beautiful town, destroyed almost a century ago by a group of rogue vampires.
I never understood why it hadn’t been rebuilt.
I silently move through the forgotten place, my hood up, my cloak blending with the night. I didn't tell anyone I was leaving the palace. It didn’t take me long to get here with vaelshad—a way to travel from one place to another in an instant, something only those who command shadows can do.
The message didn't say much, only that he wanted to talk. I really should have ignored it. I almost did. I’ve known Dimitri my whole life, even longer than I knew Kallan. Our parents had been close friends before his mother passed away and his father lost his mind from the pain of losing her.
I once considered Dimitri my closest friend, and he had betrayed me in such a painful way. A part of me, the part still raw from that twenty-eight-year-old wound, wanted a reason to face him.
“You always did like crumbling things,” I say, stepping into the center of the overgrown town square.
Dimitri emerges from the shadows, dressed in dark silks and leather. His silver eyes gleam, pale blond hair ruffled by the wind, lips already tilted in a crooked smirk.
“They remind me of you.”
I scoff. “Still charming as ever, I see.”
“And you’re still not nearly as subtle as you think. I heard your heartbeat the moment you arrived.” He tilts his head. “Are you afraid?”
I clench my jaw. “What do you want?”
He lets out a soft, low laugh. “It’s good to see you, too, Princess.”
“Cut to the point, vampire.”
He watches me carefully, all amusement fading.
“Something’s stirring in the south. I’ve heard whispers coming out of Elowen’s court. Spells older than language, talk of relics being unearthed. Things even my kind avoid.”
I cross my arms, unimpressed. “Let me guess. You want us to join hands and play nice. Work together again.”
“Serenya, you need to listen,” Dimitri says, stepping closer.
I take a step back, and he freezes. Something like hurt flashes in his eyes before he quickly masks it.
“There’s something rotten moving beneath her kingdom.
You think your court is safe? That because there’s no war right now, you’ve won? Well, you haven’t. None of us has .”
“So what do you expect me to do? March into Elowen’s palace and ask if she’s planning something sinister?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, first, I’d like you to stop pretending that the only danger is in your memories and take this seriously.”
My spine stiffens, and I look away.
“You think I don’t remember the way you looked that night and the things you said to my father?” he asks, quieter now. “The night you killed him?”
My eyes snap back to his, burning. “You let me.”
“I didn’t stop you,” he corrects. “And I never told anyone. You could’ve prolonged the war, but I took the blame. For you.”
My jaw clenches. My voice comes out sharp as a blade. “Don’t make it sound like kindness, Dimitri. You hated him almost as much as I did.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But I never took it as far as you did.”
“Maybe you should have,” I sneer. “So much pain could have been avoided if you had .”
The words hang there. Only he had seen what I had done that night—the brutal private battle between a heartbroken princess and an evil king that ended the war.
Not for my people.
Not for peace.
Just for Kallan.
For a lost love, and a vengeance that blackened my soul. I should have killed Dimitri, too. I almost tried, but something stopped me. Ever since, I’ve regretted not following through with it. Why should he get to live when he helped take Kallan’s life?
“You didn’t summon me to reminisce,” I say coldly. “Say what you need to say, and I’ll be on my way.”
He hesitates, then speaks. “Elowen’s gathering power. I don’t think it’s just political or magical. I think it may be divine power. I don’t know what she’s doing with it, but she’s preparing for something big. Something dangerous.”
My eyes narrow. “And what? You think this is going to affect you?”
“It already is. The winds carry sickness. My people are having visions. Blood turning to ash. I’ve even felt something in the earth itself. That means whatever Elowen is doing, it reaches farther than just her forest.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not getting involved in your vampire paranoia. Or Araluen’s politics.”
“It’s not just politics. Serenya, this is serious. ”
I turn and start walking away. “Then let the gods handle it, Dimitri,” I call over my shoulder.
“They won’t,” he says to my back. “And when this touches your court, and it will , don’t pretend I didn’t warn you.”
I stop, just for a moment. “If you ever try to use what I did that night against me—”
“You know I never would,” Dimitri says in a gentle voice that only makes me angrier. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I scoff and begin walking again, but he appears in front of me out of thin air.
“Wait. There’s something else.”
“What?” I grit out.
“My scouts believe that a member of Elowen’s court has infiltrated the trials.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s not possible.”
“You really won’t listen to anything I say?” He sighs when I stay silent. "Just…be careful, Serenya.”
I push past him, clenching my hands into fists beneath my cloak.
“You’ll come around,” he calls after me. “You always do. Eventually.”
I don't look back as I melt into the dark, letting my shadows swallow me, using vaelshad to take me home.
But his words follow me.