ã€ŠDarkness Wears Her Crownã€‹


 I | A Fortune So Deadly

    THE COURTIERS LEANED IN, their jewels and gold glinting beneath the crystalline chandelier, as Celvene wove lies so pretty even she wanted to believe them. How they would amass fortunes far beyond comprehension; how they would bring peace to the four warring kingdoms; how their families would remain content for years to come.

    But in the kingdom of Aizasea, stability was a rare commodity.

    ¡°I see a bright future ahead of you,¡± Celvene said. A smile danced on her face. The courtier in front of her watched her practiced hands with interest, pale gaze drilling into her fingers. ¡°A rise in status. An increase of power. Almost¡­ kingly.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± The man balked, though the shaky grin that spread across his lips was undeniably avaricious. ¡°Are you¡­ are you saying I could become a king?¡±

    Celvene forced her smile to widen as she shrugged. ¡°The cards see a man with potential. I see a man who may wear a crown.¡±

    The man turned to the woman sitting next to him. Both were clad in a variety of different gems, gleaming shades of the rainbow beneath the warm light of the overhead chandelier. Every time the man moved, the jewels would clatter against one another, reminding Celvene just how poor she was considered in Aizasea¡¯s castle.

    King Virion had invited the circus she was a part of to perform for his court, followed by a royal dinner. They¡¯d adapted the throne hall so the circus could perform with minimal worries, though Celvene had watched them bump into one another more than once. She wondered why they hadn¡¯t used the ballroom. Perhaps the staff thought the circus was too lowly for such a prestigious venue.

    Celvene had met a variety of nobles and royals throughout the night, though they all felt like they blended together: they¡¯d greet her¡ªif she was lucky enough to receive even that¡ªwith a sneer, sit down, have lies fed to them like dessert, then shift their personality to one that didn¡¯t believe Celvene was akin to sewer run-off when she flattered them.

    ¡°Imagine,¡± the man breathed. ¡°What if I took the place of King Virion? Or¡­ or¡­ create a new kingdom!¡±

    The woman raised a hand to her mouth, let out a breathy laugh, and flexed her fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Rodolf. Virion is immortal.¡±

    Even immortals can bleed, Celvene thought, glancing up at the king. He still remained seated in his throne, blue velvet cape falling over his shoulders in waves and hugging his lanky frame. His tanned skin was aged and gray streaks ran through his cropped, chestnut locks. His suit beneath was a collection of dark lines and clean edges, shades of black and navy. Though Celvene knew he had access to far more resources¡ªand therefore, food¡ªthan the rest of his kingdom, the few times she¡¯d seen him he¡¯d been skin and bones.

    His abundance of resources shone through the castle, though. The throne room was a sight to behold. One Celvene would never tire of. An array of golds and silvers so bright they looked white, marble columns lining the tiled floor, and a golden rug running through the center of the hall embellished with weavings of thin blue flowers. Statues posed in different positions, soft cream stone glittering under the light, stared at Celvene as she worked. The ceiling was perhaps the most impressive of all, with an array of glass paintings etched into the domed roof, depicting the king¡¯s past victories in battle. And, of course, at the end of the hall was the throne. A grand seat of carved marble and yellow threads, holding King Virion.

    Rodolf flipped his hand up and spread his fingers apart, a gold coin resting between two. He flicked it onto the table and pushed it across to Celvene. ¡°Another, dear. You¡¯ve been surprisingly entertaining.¡±

    Celvene eyed the coin for a moment before accepting it and throwing it into her small pail of earnings. To her side, the makeshift arena roared. Trapezists soared, flame-lit batons streaked orange through the air, and a bear her boss had somehow managed to snag from the wilds danced a jig. Celvene hadn¡¯t a clue how he¡¯d managed to capture the bear, let alone tame it, but his slimy hands always found a way.

    She scooped her deck up, cards flipping at rates even she couldn¡¯t track, and she activated her illusion spell the moment she slowed her shuffling. At the beginning of the night, she¡¯d had to wait until she¡¯d gotten the signal to cast her method of cheating: a masking spell that silenced the cues of any magic cast. It had taken her over a year to learn how to cast, and she still wasn¡¯t perfect. But she was good enough to hide her hand, and that was what mattered.

    At the circus, she was in charge of faking the card games and fortune tellings. It was repetitive and monotonous work and paid little, but her skill set was too specialized to seek out any new opportunities. She was too young to make much of a living for herself otherwise, especially because her parents hadn¡¯t traveled to Aizasea with her. She wanted to perform acrobatics, given her childhood training, but ever since arriving in Aizasea, she hadn¡¯t been allowed to. Her boss had insisted he couldn¡¯t risk damaging her face; that he placed his prettiest workers at the spots where customers were able to savor every detail.

    Celvene knew it was a lie. It always was with him.

    She bit back a frown and spread her cards against the table. The magic had shifted their paper faces to exactly what Celvene imagined: a bear, a goblet overflowing with liquid, and a handful of coins.

    ¡°Do you happen to be looking for an estate on the water, sire?¡± she asked.

    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Rodolf¡¯s mouth dropped open, and he turned to the woman once more. ¡°Do you see her? And to think I had said she¡¯d be a scam!¡±

    How do I know that? A lucky guess. ¡°The stars tell me that now is the perfect time to buy that estate you¡¯ve been eyeing,¡± she continued, the trained ease of her lies slipping off her tongue like honey. ¡°With the season coming to a close, now would be the time. The tides will work in your favor to lower prices.¡±

    ¡°I could use another estate¡­ As a vacation home,¡± he added.

    ¡°That is just how the economy trends towards the end of a season,¡± the woman pointed out, crossing her arms. Her jewelry jingled. ¡°I¡¯m not buying it.¡±

    Celvene smirked, holding the woman¡¯s stare. She tucked a lock of her wavy brown hair behind her ear before cracking her knuckles. ¡°Madam, please, allow me the chance to look into your future.¡±

    The woman scoffed. ¡°Dear, I know you¡¯re hurting for coins, but I¡¯d rather not.¡± Her light green eyes lifted to the ornate ceiling for a moment before she pursed her lips. ¡°But you¡¯re trying to make an honest living, I suppose.¡± She dug into her pocket and pulled out two gold coins. Rather pitiful, but Celvene wasn¡¯t about to complain about free money. ¡°Here.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± replied Celvene, forcing that smile back onto her face. She knew fully well that nothing about her living was ¡°honest.¡± But that deceit wasn¡¯t by choice.

    The ring of silver against glass commanded Celvene¡¯s attention. She whirled her head towards the king¡¯s throne, who now stood; like an invisible wind caressed his body, his cape and hair fluttered gently. The performance had come to a halt, performers panting on the ground and running hands along their brows. Celvene rested her cards against the table. It would be improper for her to continue when a royal spoke. King Virion stepped down from his throne, heels clicking against the runner in muddled thumps.

    ¡°Citizens of Aizasea,¡± the king bellowed, raising the goblet clutched in his bare hands. Celvene glanced at her own hands, hidden by black leather gloves as part of her uniform. When she looked back to the king, he¡¯d started to descend the stairs leading up to his throne. ¡°I am so glad you could join me here tonight. Whether you are a noble, a royal, or a common folk, a celebration of our beautiful kingdom is always something to smile about.¡±

    As King Virion came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, the citizens closest to him gasped and murmured to one another, starstruck at the presence of the king. Their outfits flitted with the breeze that seemingly surrounded King Virion, as if he¡¯d enchanted the air. But for him to use such magic, the domain of the enemy¡­ that would be odd.

    Air magic, along with illusion magic, was typically confined to the enemy kingdom of Noriya, a land ruled by King Virion¡¯s own brother. The only reason Celvene knew illusion magic was thanks to her few years in an academy that taught the basics of all the magic domains, and she was lucky to receive even that much training. Flaunting such skills was asking for trouble, as if she was advertising her allegiance in the never-ending war between their kingdoms. Though she supposed the king, of all people, wouldn¡¯t have the same qualms. If anything, displaying the magic of the enemy was a show of power, as if saying that Noriya¡¯s quest for dominance and power was nothing to be feared.

    King Virion lifted his goblet to his lips and took a long sip. He retreated back to his throne so he stood above his subjects, like he wanted to prove his godhood. Raising the goblet even higher than before, he shouted, ¡°To our glorious kingdom, for its hope to thrive and flourish from the dawn of man until the end. One day soon, we shall live in peace after Noriya¡¯s conquest has faltered. To Aizasea¡ª¡±

    The ceiling shattered. Glass streamed down like opalescent rain.

    A lithe figure shrouded in black dropped from the ceiling, landing on the king¡¯s shoulders, unaffected by such a long fall. The sheer force sent Virion toppling over into his throne, a scream erupting from his lips as his silver goblet clattered down the stairs. Just a moment later, it cut off, clogged with pain¡ªand blood, Celvene realized with alarm as the figure leapt off the king¡¯s limp body. Blood gushed from his neck, and all Celvene saw of the assassin¡¯s weapon was the unnatural glow of its blade before they tucked it into their pocket and vanished into thin air.

    It was only when Celvene¡¯s hands gripped the tablecloth did she realize she¡¯d stood up, her mouth agape. She couldn¡¯t tear her eyes from the scene before her, though. And she couldn¡¯t move, either, evident by the fact that her body remained frozen even as she willed herself to sit back down.

    The patrons at Celvene¡¯s table gasped. Celvene¡¯s heart dropped into her stomach, and she glanced around for any signs of the assassin. There was nothing; they¡¯d disappeared. They must have cloaked themself, which meant they knew illusion magic.

    They were a mage from Noriya.

    The guards¡¯ wild stares scanned the throne room. A few ran up to the king, whose skin lost more and more color by the second. He hadn¡¯t had the chance to react; he hadn¡¯t moved from the throne at all, instead slumping over against one of the arms. Blood caked his cape. Splashes of crimson trailed down the stairs, mixing with the puddles of ruby ale. His goblet had emptied, save for a thin trickle of wine that pooled in the bottom.

    ¡°A medic! We need a mage!¡± one guard shouted, ripping off part of his armor and slamming it against the king¡¯s mutilated neck in an effort to stop the bleeding. Even from a distance, the fabric stained red in a matter of seconds.

    The throne hall erupted into chaos. Shouts and cries echoed throughout the room. Celvene¡¯s patrons scrambled up from the table, leaving their belongings behind and scattering their open pouches of gold across the floor. If Celvene had seen her boss, she would have scooped up the money in an effort to please him, but as she surveyed the room, it was like he had vanished.

    Others turned and fled as well, dresses billowing behind them and glasses breaking against the floor. Several pools of crimson wine were left behind, shards of iridescent glass clinging to the liquid.

    Celvene was still stuck in place, as were the other circus members, ogling in stunned silence. The guards ushered them away, and one rushed up to Celvene, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the exit while murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. When Celvene glanced up at him, his jaw quivered, and his chest rose in rapid breaths like a frightened bird. His hands shook against her skin. With the rushing of blood in her ears drowning out the chaos around her, she couldn¡¯t make out what the man said, even as his lips continued to move. Perhaps he prayed.

    She didn¡¯t know how to feel, the shock of witnessing a death aside. She¡¯d never met the king face to face; she¡¯d only seen him a handful of times when her circus performed for one of his events. He¡¯d seemed like a fine man, no more or less corrupt than the average member of Aizasea¡¯s upper class. Such was the nature of the throne.

    Still, he could have done more. While many of Aizasea¡¯s citizens went hungry, infected by the famine magic their ancestors were entrusted to contain, the king hardly lifted a finger to help. Instead, he sat back and entertained his royals and nobles with feasts, balls, and merriments. He¡¯d been the one to make Celvene¡¯s people suffer. She should¡¯ve been glad to watch him die.

    Yet she wasn¡¯t. Some odd, small part of her screamed for him to rise. To live. To not thrust the kingdom into uncertainty. He had no children. No spouse. There was no one left to take the throne¡­ no soul capable of wielding his sword. Legends claimed that only the true king was worthy of such power, and Virion had been the only one to hold such an honor, being one of the world¡¯s first creations. Sure, there were rumors of how a successor would be selected, but no one ever believed it would become reality. No one had ever worried a god would fall.

    What if the rest of Aizasea was Noriya¡¯s next victim?

    Celvene supposed the kingdom would find out soon enough. Aizasea couldn¡¯t run without its king; his council wouldn¡¯t suffice. The people would want a new ruler to take the king¡¯s place, if just for peace of mind.

    Her stomach churned, and partygoers continued to rush past her in a frenzied stampede. From the door to the throne room, King Virion¡¯s body was still visible. Though Celvene had to squint to make out the details, it wasn¡¯t a pretty sight: she saw his eyes glazed over, his skin a deathly white, his throat torn apart like a wild animal had gotten its teeth on him. How had one assassin done so much damage in mere seconds?

    And how had a god died? King Virion had existed since the world¡¯s creation. He was the embodiment of one of the darkest magics known to mortals. With his control over famine, people expected him to deal out death, not succumb to it. Out of the citizens of the four kingdoms, only Virion and the other gods¡ªthe rulers of death, conquest, and war¡ªwere expected to see the end of time. They were unkillable.

    Unshatterable.

    Yet there King Virion slouched, broken and bloodied, just as dead as a poor, lifeless soul found in the Slums.

    Even as she was pulled away, she still saw the guards congregating at the scene of the murder, with a few mages working to bring back the king with desperate, frantic hands. Celvene saw the glow of their magic. She saw the stiff body of King Virion remain still. She saw the panicked eyes of every soul surrounding him.

    Then the door slammed shut in her face. She was shoved once more towards the castle¡¯s exit, then again, until she broke out into the cool night. It was only when the wind brushed against her face did she realize she¡¯d broken out into a cold sweat. She wiped a hand against her brow, her hands trembling.

    Suddenly, the king¡¯s aversion to using the ballroom made sense: a party of this caliber required the space of a ballroom, and it would be expected that the king held the celebration there. In moving it, he¡¯d tried to throw the assassin off his trail. Buy himself some time. Prepare more defenses.

    He¡¯d been expecting this. Yet his guards had still been unprepared.

    And now, King Virion lay dead on his own throne.

 II | Song of the Circus

    THE CITIZENS OF AIZASEA HAD A SAYING: history could either be written in stone or hidden in sand. With the former, as long as they persisted, their noble feats would be eternalized despite the enemy¡¯s merciless attacks. But if they were to surrender without a fight, their legacies would be lost, swept away into the sea that bordered their great kingdom.

    But Celvene wasn¡¯t from Aizasea; she was from Vosalon. She didn¡¯t care about carving her name into stone or burying it in the sand. All she wanted was to survive, and with her line of work, that was becoming more difficult by the day. That much was evident through the fact she¡¯d watched Virion die in front of her.

    She wasn¡¯t the only one struggling to survive; despite the cheap glitz of the circus, she didn¡¯t know anyone there¡ªsave for her boss¡ªwho didn¡¯t fight to make ends meet. On the other end of the circus tent, far from Celvene at the card tables, two performers in vibrant costumes danced across the stage. The audience¡¯s focus was only on the dancers¡¯ spins and gyrations, and the crowd whistled and cheered as the performers used seductive and passionate movements to tell a story: a tragedy of two lovers, separated by war and fated to die by each other¡¯s hands. But their movements were slow and sloppy. Their skin stuck to their bones, gaunt faces covered in sweat.

    Celvene was familiar with the grim ending of their dance; her old home told a similar tale, just one Celvene had lived. While most of her peers lamented over the tragic outcome, Celvene kept her judgment to herself. In her eyes, there had been no need for the lovers to die¡ªnot both of them, at least.

    A customer at her table let out a belch, pointing an unsteady hand at the performers. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that soldiers on the warfront dress like that? If that¡¯s the case, then sign me up!¡±

    Laughter rippled across the oaken table. One man banged his fist against the wood, shaking the surface, and Celvene pulled back with a grimace. A pint of beer tipped over, splashing the cream-colored liquid onto the stained carpet, and the smell of vanilla wafted into the air. The sight rocked Celvene¡¯s stomach; it was sickeningly similar to the dribble of ale from the king¡¯s fallen mug.

    Celvene swallowed, steeling herself. Breathing out a long sigh, she tucked her brown hair behind her ears and let the ripple of her cards soothe her mind. She¡¯d have to clean the mess after the circus shut down for the night. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards stationed near the tent¡¯s opening shift in place, glancing at the fallen ale.

    She glanced back at her deck. Despite her patrons¡¯ behavior, she paid them no mind; she¡¯d heard worse. And she couldn¡¯t stop a game once it commenced. She wasn¡¯t allowed to, even though her patrons continued to jest and jeer. Though they joked about the war, Celvene knew the truth: the citizens of the kingdom were scared. Aizasea had been plagued by war for years, and the city was defenseless. She hadn¡¯t kept up with the politics, but at this point, she was surprised Aizasea was still standing. Compared to Noriya, the kingdom of conquest, Aizasea¡¯s weapons were like a child¡¯s flimsy toy. Against Noriya¡¯s soldiers, who trained for years, Aizasea¡¯s were¡­

    Well, Celvene wasn¡¯t surprised they were struggling. She ran a hand through her hair. She was in for a long night.

    She shuffled her gold-threaded cards, the paper morphing into a blur, and kept her gaze trained on the four men sitting at her table. She didn¡¯t trust them to play fair, especially while drunk. Judging by the way their glares drilled into her set of cards, they thought the same of her. None of them should have been surprised. This was the circus; everything was an act, and the patrons were performers on Celvene¡¯s stage.

    ¡°Who¡¯s buying in?¡± she asked, and her customers perked up. Hungry leers crept onto their faces. ¡°Starting stake is fifty Nusmi. No more, no less, unless you¡¯re willing to bet something a bit more valuable.¡±

    The customers turned to one another, sliding forward portions of their coin stacks without a second thought. But one man in front of her surveyed the table, then his meager earnings, then Celvene¡¯s gloved hands. Even in the dim light, she noticed the man¡¯s hands shift to his belt¡ªhe had something of value. When his gleaming sea-green eyes met Celvene¡¯s, she offered a smile.

    ¡°I¡¯ll throw in a bit of luck for you if you do,¡± said Celvene, winking. The other patrons weren¡¯t paying attention, so if throwing a slight lie would convince the man to play, she¡¯d be a fool not to capitalize on the opportunity.

    The man mirrored her grin and unbuckled one of the weapons looped to his belt. He placed it on the table, letting his hand rest on the grip for a moment before he drew back. They were beauties, ivory flintlock guns with intricate golden carvings.

    The glint in the man¡¯s eyes grew greedy. He shifted in his seat, blinking one eye, then the other. He wrapped his large hand around his mug, ignoring the liquid that dribbled over his skin. His pinky finger extended and gestured to the guns. ¡°You may not know what that is, little lady, but I can assure you it¡¯s worth a pretty sum. My sources are¡­ confidential. And Virion? Let¡¯s just say that the calicula should¡¯ve paid me more. He got what he deserved.¡±

    Raising an eyebrow, Celvene bit her tongue. She wasn¡¯t paid enough to question whether her customers were from Aizasea or not, and given how the court had treated people like Celvene since she set foot in Aizasea, she wasn¡¯t particularly interested in giving them any leads as to who assassinated King Virion. But guns were a rare sight when not in the hands of elites or cannon fodder for the armies; perhaps the man was a disgraced Aizasean soldier.

    She took the gun. She placed it into the earnings chest behind her and locked it with the key. It had been empty until now, and Celvene wasn¡¯t going to risk someone stealing her first score of the night. She slid a sizable stack of Nusmi over to the betting patron, the sparkling silver catching the light of the moon. It was setting, and fast. She¡¯d have to hurry the game. Her presence had been requested elsewhere once the moon fell and the sun seared the horizon.

    ¡°This will be the last game of tonight, my good men,¡± she said, flashing her deck of cards in her hands. ¡°I thank you for your honest play and generous bets. I have a feeling some of you will be walking out of here with heavy pockets.¡±

    As she placed the cards down on the table, she flicked her wrist. What her customers didn¡¯t know was that the invisible dome hovering over the tent silenced any sound a magic spell would create, and Celvene had just cast an illusion spell. She could manipulate the cards and control the game as she pleased. She didn¡¯t enjoy doing it, but her boss insisted she used illusion magic to rig the games she headed. If she didn¡¯t want to lose her job, she had to listen. No other employer wanted the skill set of a circus worker. She¡¯d checked.

    The cards adopted an undetectable light blue sheen, the glow disappearing after the paper absorbed the magic. Celvene swept them up into a pile and glanced at the men. Their smirks had deepened, dripping glasses of alcohol almost empty.

    ¡°Cards down, and extra bets forward if you¡¯re feeling lucky.¡± To her delight, three of the four men pushed forward extra sizable stacks. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the table. Her magic connected to the wood, and in the middle of the table, an illusioned projection of an axe-wielding fairy sprang to life. In her other hand was a shield. ¡°Place your left card face up!¡±

    Tonight, she wore a gold band in her hair, slicked back. But it wasn¡¯t to look stylish. She leaned forward, allowing the light above them to catch the gold, and hues of yellow cast over the table like sparkling coins. The greed in the men¡¯s eyes strengthened. They thought it was a sign from the gods¡ªCelvene had used the trick many times. Every patron slid their card forward. Before they flipped them, however, Celvene twisted her wrist, and the images morphed into losing draws. The table fell quiet once their eyes landed on their cards.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Ah,¡± she said, clicking her tongue. ¡°Looks like no one¡¯s our winner¡ªyet. All four of you have got a real shot at the earnings, though. Wouldn¡¯t you like to bring home over a thousand Nusmi to your wives?¡±

    Two of the men raised their eyebrows, and chuckles slipped past their lips. They downed the rest of their alcohol in one gulp before nodding. The faint melody of instrumentals from the main circus tent provided background noise, and Celvene could hear even quieter applause.

    ¡°Play ¡®er again,¡± one said, gruff voice lightly slurring. Celvene appreciated how good the bartender was at making drinks. Their skills were the reason customers would buy an extra drink or two¡ªit made her job much easier.

    The flipped cards adopted a glowing sheen of magic. A flurry of arrows erupted from the cards¡¯ face, soaring through the air before their pointed tips struck the fairy¡¯s shield. She raised her glowing gaze to stare at the men, and her wings fluttered. The low buzzing of her wings filled the tent, almost masking the scuffs of the dancers¡¯ shoes.

    ¡°Three more turns to go,¡± announced Celvene. ¡°You¡¯ll be looking for something to cool yourself down¡ªthings are about to get hot.¡±

    Honor Among Blades was the riskiest card game Celvene could have chosen, but it was the easiest way for her to reap a quick reward. And as long as the men in front of her continued to think they had a chance of hitting the jackpot, she was in for a smooth ride. She¡¯d be nice and give some a small payout, but Korvin, her boss, would have her head if she gave them too much.

    The men turned over their next cards, and when every card revealed a fiery inscription, the customers grumbled in unison. They had needed an ice or water card¡ªall their cards would do was add fuel to the fairy¡¯s fire.

    ¡°Not a single hit?¡± one said, lifting his dark green glare to Celvene. She recognized the look in his eyes, and her hands tightened around her deck. There was something about the typical green of Aizasea citizens¡¯ eyes that unsettled her.

    ¡°We still have two rounds to go,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to get in a hit before the third round. The deck tends to favor the later rounds. All my lucky winners have won in the third or fourth round.¡±

    She was bluffing, of course, but these men wouldn¡¯t suspect anything. If they knew the intricacies of card dealing, they¡¯d be the one controlling the game, not Celvene.

    ¡°A¡¯ight,¡± mumbled the man, leaning back in his rickety chair. ¡°We¡¯ll see. Better not be lying.¡±

    With a subtle flick of her wrist, Celvene changed the cards of the complainer¡¯s neighbors, one of which was the suspected soldier.

    It was no surprise he left the army; either he''d die from starvation or from the king''s never ending war. At the sight of his shifting jaw and beading sweat, she felt a tinge of sympathy that he had to resort to such lowly methods, as if the odds of winning a rigged card game at a circus were his best chance of survival. Celvene had a hand in his fate¡­ whether that be his demise or his success.

    When the two men¡ªthe soldier and a patron Celvene had hardly paid any mind to¡ªflipped over their cards, their faces lit up. They were the perfect counter to the fairy¡¯s incoming ice wall. At the center of the table, the fairy projection shrunk, and she raised an unsteady barrier of ice before the incoming balls of fire from the men''s winning hands. The flames shattered the ice on impact before crashing into the fairy, sending her collapsing to one knee and clutching her side. She hadn¡¯t been defeated, but the successful men didn¡¯t care as they both hollered at the top of their lungs.

    Celvene gestured to the soldier, along with one of the men who hadn¡¯t made a fuss. Both bit their lips in toothy smiles and took portions of the other customers¡¯ bets. The complainer¡¯s lip rose in a snarl, but he said nothing. His frown deepened, and he sank further into his chair before sitting up straight and jutting his chin forward. His eyes locked onto the last card sitting on the table, his stare unblinking. Celvene shuffled her deck while she waited for him to calm down, and a moment later, a grumble told her he¡¯d found nothing wrong with the card. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. The stink of tar mixed with saltwater from the pier clung to the air.

    ¡°Final round,¡± she said, and the four men didn¡¯t hesitate to turn over their cards. This was the one round she hadn¡¯t altered, and three of the four men came away with hits¡ªswords against a long-ranged magical attack the fairy planned. The fairy collapsed to the ground when a sword pierced her heart, and Celvene¡¯s projection wavered before vanishing. Celvene clapped her hands as her signal of ending the game, though none of the men paid her any mind.

    The two victors of the last round had won again, and they wrapped their arms around their meager winnings. They had barely come away with more than they bet, but neither cared. The soldier bit into a shiny coin from his pile, while the other winner thumbed through his earnings. Celvene eyed their piles and, after a moment, jerked her head up in a nod to allow them to leave. They scooped up the coins and scurried away, radiant grins plastered to their faces. The other winner was the man who had complained¡ªthough he hadn¡¯t made enough from the last round to break even, let alone come away with any winnings.

    Celvene ignored the two men still sitting at the table and swept the remaining coins towards her end of the table. She had places to be, and she didn¡¯t want to risk the men getting violent to steal the coins after their luck had run dry.

    ¡°You rigged it, didn¡¯t ya?¡± said the frowning man. His eye twitched once. ¡°Didn¡¯t see anything wrong with the card, but my luck¡¯s never been that bad. I¡¯m blessed by Virion.¡±

    ¡°Did you not hear the news?¡± Celvene asked, clapping her hands again. It was strangely quiet at the table, save for ill jokes, and at the circus in general. Celvene figured the king¡¯s death would be the talk of the town by now.

    The man¡¯s expression soured upon seeing her empty gloves. She plastered a thin-lipped smile onto her face and chose not to elaborate further; if the man hadn¡¯t heard of Virion¡¯s death yet, he would soon enough. The news had already rippled through the kingdom like a wildfire. At this point, it was more odd that he hadn¡¯t heard of the news. Or he prayed to a dead man. Both were probable options.

    ¡°The gods tend not to answer the prayers of the desperate. I know from experience,¡± Celvene finished, then turned her back on the man. While part of her feared the man¡¯s anger overpowering his rationale, ending in him attacking her¡ªperhaps ending in a fate too similar to Virion¡ªher nerves were soothed slightly by the bodyguards standing near the opening flaps to the tent. Korvin skimped out on the guards¡¯ pay more often than not, but Celvene sweet-talked them as often as possible. It was a more reliable means of protection.

    The corners of the man¡¯s mouth twitched as he walked in front of Celvene, hands stuffed into his pockets, as if proving he didn¡¯t intend to fight. ¡°¡®Spose you¡¯re right. Maybe the Slums are too undignified for the deities to pay attention to.¡±

    ¡°Quite the contrary, I believe. The poor are much more receptive to believing in impossible odds. Have a good night, sir. I hope your luck improves.¡± She wiped her slick forehead with the cloth tucked in her pocket before shoveling her earnings into Korvin¡¯s chest. She appreciated Korvin for one thing: his sense of style. Her uniform was a white and lavender waistcoat covered by a darker purple, flared jacket. The sleek black pants she wore were embroidered with lavender inscriptions of the circus¡¯s logo, a sky-high circus tent, along with knee-high heeled boots.

    And despite the looming winter season, her tent was humid and heavy. They¡¯d nestled their set of tents in the heart of the Slums, the dingiest section of Aizasea where the most unsavory citizens called home. She wasn¡¯t sure why Korvin had picked the Slums out of every section of the city. If they¡¯d camped in the Marble Court or Velvet Row Districts, they¡¯d attract far wealthier citizens. But Celvene supposed the poorer citizens were sloppier with their bets in hopes of winning it big. That, or they tried to ease their alcohol addictions with the cheaper booze served in the Slums.

    Celvene made sure the lock to the chest was secure and checked to make sure the customers had left, before blowing out the lantern and making her way out of the tent. The lock was enchanted with magic only Korvin could open, so all Celvene could do was lock it for him at the end of the night. The waning light from the moon provided her with a clear path to the main tent. The tent¡¯s peppy music strengthened as she opened the tent door and stepped inside.

    She prayed that Korvin had news that wouldn¡¯t bring about Celvene¡¯s death in some way or another. But knowing Korvin, the night wasn¡¯t about to end in a simple manner.

 III | The Ringmaster

    ACROBATS FLIPPED IN THE AIR, contorting their bodies in unnatural ways, and mages from below shot different types of magic towards the performers. A lightning bolt almost singed Quinn, one of Celvene¡¯s closer acquaintances at the circus, but the performer didn¡¯t so much as blink. She soared from one trapeze to the other, and Celvene watched, resisting the urge to lour. She¡¯d begged Korvin more than once to let her have a shot at performing with the acrobats, but she¡¯d been waved off every time.

    She shook off her jealousy, sighing, and walked to the back part of the circus, ducking under a sagging sack of the tent ceiling as she weaved her way through the convoluted maze. She didn¡¯t know where Korvin would be, but her best guess was the rehearsal area. He hated watching live performances most of the time, citing the workers¡¯ ¡°lackluster performances¡± as being too difficult to watch, and he tended to stay out of the dressing rooms for reasons Celvene didn¡¯t know. He would pop back out into the ring to announce the next performances, playing up his sordid attempt at charisma, but when he wasn¡¯t needed, he was as far away as he could be.

    When she arrived in the rehearsal area, Korvin stood in the corner, along with a woman Celvene didn¡¯t recognize. Korvin planted a gentle kiss on the woman¡¯s hand before turning his attention to Celvene.

    His curled hair had faded over the years, leaving faint streaks of white in the locks. Age lines decorated his aggrieved face, growing more prominent with the smile stretched across his face. The darks of his eyes bore into her soul¡ªa telltale sign of someone hailing from Khezzintis, the kingdom of death, was how their eyes tended to be so dark they looked black. Korvin was barely taller than her, yet the way he carried himself made him feel twice as large as Celvene.

    ¡°Celvene!¡± said Korvin in his heavy Khezzintian accent, spreading his arms wide. A sleazy grin crawled onto his face. ¡°How¡¯d my pup do? How much money did you make?¡±

    ¡°It should be a good cut,¡± she said. Korvin was wearing a fancier version of his typical dark gray suit. He must have been dressing up for whatever he had to announce.

    ¡°You¡¯re early,¡± he commented, waving off the mysterious woman. She slithered past Celvene without a word. ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t cutting corners with your dealings to leave sooner. That¡¯s not good for business.¡±

    ¡°Of course I wasn¡¯t.¡± Celvene bristled. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she took her job seriously, even if it made her feel terrible to do so. For Korvin to act otherwise was insulting. ¡°I had a smaller customer base today. Everyone was interested in Sariel and her performance.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have done a double service? Gambling and fortune readings?¡±

    I don¡¯t have four hands, Celvene thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She settled on a softer, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have had the time. It would have lost you more money in the long run.¡±

    Korvin grumbled something under his breath before releasing a heavy grouse. Even from across the room, Celvene smelled the stench of a cigar¡¯s acrid smoke.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not confident in your abilities, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m plenty confident,¡± Celvene said, ignoring her heartbeat stuttering as Korvin¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°I hate being interrupted, pup,¡± he replied.

    Celvene swallowed. Terminating employment wasn''t the only punishment Korvin offered.

    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± Celvene said, doing her best to keep her fear from showing. ¡°But I''m one of your best earners. It was a conflict of interest. Nothing more, nothing less. I¡¯ll recover at the next performance. Tomorrow. I promise.¡±

    Something dangerous flickered in Korvin¡¯s stormy eyes, but his voice was smooth as he said, ¡°You¡¯d best be telling the truth. I¡¯ll let you off the hook this time because I¡¯m feeling merciful. We have good news tonight. I¡¯d rather not let my mood sour.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. She¡¯d gotten far too good at learning what Korvin wanted to hear.

    ¡°We have a special performance tonight, and I need you to use your skills to¡­ act as our opener, if you will. Charm the guards and ensure we get through the gates without much trouble.¡±

    Celvene¡¯s eyebrows raised, and she opened her mouth to vocalize her confusion, but upon mulling it over, she clamped it shut without a word. But she couldn¡¯t imagine Korvin would assemble the entire Painted Sky cast for something simple like a performance in the Marble Court district¡ªor, somehow, another kingdom. As the only traveling circus in Fellstride, the further the performance was from their stationary tent, the more money they earned. A visit with the Vosalon or Khezzintis kingdoms would mean Korvin pocketed a hefty sum, given how rare they were; in Celvene¡¯s time at the circus, she¡¯d never visited another kingdom because of work. While Korvin was fixated on money, unless he¡¯d managed to get a performance with a family of elites, she doubted it was important enough. It had to be something bigger. He must have gotten a performance with one of the kingdoms not fixated on destroying Aizasea.

    ¡°We¡¯re heading to Virion¡¯s castle once our show for the night wraps up. We¡¯ll be performing for his castle staff as a way to uplift their spirits after the¡­ last performance, which didn¡¯t go as planned,¡± Korvin said, pulling on a set of black gloves. He flexed his fingers before adjusting the bow tie clipped to his suit. ¡°It¡¯s been in the works for a while now, but I received confirmation a few days ago. I figured they would cancel after last night, but business is business, and they paid a pretty coin to reserve our services. I know it would be quite a shame to lose out on that deposit. It¡¯s quite the opportunity, little pup. And I¡¯m taking you with me.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Celvene bit her lip. How had Korvin of all people managed to get a performance with the court again? After the last time¡ªwhere an assassin murdered the king in cold blood in front of the entire crowd, performers and all¡ªshe couldn¡¯t imagine any of them wanted to be reminded of that night. It was still fresh in their minds¡ªall of their minds. It had been less than a day since Celvene had witnessed the attack, and she still felt sick whenever she thought back to the event. It made her uncomfortably dizzy and warm. With people actually close to the king, she doubted they were any better. If anything, they¡¯d be worse. And seeing the people who were meant to bring them joy on such a dark day wouldn¡¯t help their grief in the slightest.

    And why did Korvin want her to attend? She tended to the gambling lines and fortune telling, and she was rarely allowed to touch the ring, let alone perform in it. She wasn¡¯t going to be of any use in impressing any of the court, and she feared seeing the interior of king¡¯s castle again would cramp her stomach to the point where she¡¯d upheave whatever she¡¯d eaten for breakfast that morning. The last thing she wanted was for an attack to target more than just the king¡ªwhich meant her life would be in danger. The closer to the castle she was, the more likely her life would be lost as a pointless casualty.

    Korvin didn¡¯t seem to care in the slightest, but Celvene didn¡¯t expect him to. If it was possible, she was sure his eyeballs would be made of coins.

    ¡°I¡¯m honored, but may I ask why? I¡¯m not a performer, unless you want me to act as a mage,¡± she said. She wasn¡¯t going to bother asking why Korvin had waited until the night of to tell them about the performance. He¡¯d never been punctual.

    ¡°I want them to see how beautiful my cast is. With those eyes, Celvene? Never seen anything like them. You may be my prettiest worker yet, and my criteria to work here is to be one attractive human. You¡¯ve surpassed my expectations.¡± He grabbed Celvene¡¯s cheek with a gloved hand and gave it a hearty tug before patting his fingers against her skin. ¡°I¡¯ll be sending off the crew after they¡¯re finished, but you can head off early. You know how to get to the castle by yourself, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Celvene stepped back, biting back a shiver of disgust, and tried to discreetly wipe her cheek off. Though Korvin¡¯s hands left no residue behind, his touch felt disgusting. Sticky.

    And she¡¯d grown all too used to his comments¡ªhe made them to everyone. Every worker of his was his ¡°prettiest,¡± and he¡¯d supposedly hired none of them for their skill set, yet he restricted Celvene based on what benefited him most. The only comment she believed he spoke the truth about were her eyes¡ªher eyes were a pale shade of gray she¡¯d never seen in another human before. Quinn had once commented she¡¯d seen specks of gold in the gray, but Celvene had never noticed. But she also hadn¡¯t visited two of the other kingdoms before, and the amount of citizens traveling in and out of Aizasea wasn¡¯t too high. There was a chance Noriya harbored thousands of citizens with gray eyes. The only time Celvene had seen any of their subjects was when she saw masked soldiers marching through the hills on the outskirts of the kingdom. They hadn¡¯t dared to come closer than the borders of Aizasea. But last night had proven they¡¯d found their resolve.

    ¡°Through the Slums¡­¡± Celvene hesitated. She didn¡¯t want to travel through the Slums by herself¡ªit was a great way to get herself shanked. And she still didn¡¯t want to go anywhere near the castle.

    ¡°Precisely. It should be dead at this time of day. The sun setting means everyone will be heading to sleep.¡±

    She clasped her hands together, rocking back on her heels. ¡°I, uh, have a beer spill to clean in the gambling tent. It soaked into the carpet and won¡¯t be an easy clean, so I¡¯ll be held up long enough that I can leave with everyone else. And the Slums are d¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dangerous? Hardly. You¡¯ll be fine, pup. No one would hurt a face as pretty as yours.¡± Korvin made his way across the room, standing near the door. ¡°Keep a dagger out if you¡¯re that worried. I¡¯ll send someone less important to clean up that mess of yours later.¡±

    Celvene tensed, biting her lip. With the brutes who stuck around the Slums¡ªmeatheaded, with arms the size of tree trunks¡ªa dagger wasn¡¯t going to do anything to protect her, unless an attacker doubled over from laughter at the sheer patheticness.

    ¡°Go,¡± said Korvin, pointing at the flap. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you in the main entrance when we arrive. Tell them you¡¯re with the circus. They won''t question you with the uniform on¡ªor off, for that matter.¡±

    If she was feeling daring, Celvene would have barked back a complaint. But she knew better. Arguing with Korvin always led nowhere, and it had more of a chance of her losing her job than having him realize the dangers of traversing the Slums alone.

    She headed out of the room, unsheathing both her daggers and looping her satchel over her shoulder. The night¡¯s air was crisp and cold, and the bite of a promised storm nipped at her skin. She¡¯d heard they were expecting rain come moonrise, so she hoped the circus could arrive at Virion''s castle before the storm started.

    The streets were unnaturally busy for this time of day, packed to the brim with chattering citizens. Lanterns illuminated the city streets, making Celvene raise an eyebrow. The Slums were never afforded luxuries like light at night if the moon wasn¡¯t in the sky.

    Even the merchants were out, buzzing with excitement as they jammed their products in passing citizens¡¯ faces. Celvene had to avoid getting several different types of food shoved at her by ducking and weaving around bodies. She couldn¡¯t tell if she was thankful for the unexpected crowd or not¡ªon one hand, she was able to blend in far easier, and risk anyone developing interest in her. On the other hand, it was unnerving for so many people to be out at this time. Something had to be wrong.

    Another woman nearby was holding up a damp newspaper, the ink smudged and dripping down the parchment. With her other hand, she cupped her hand around her mouth. ¡°King Virion killed by Noriyan assassin in his own bed!¡±

    Celvene rolled her eyes and started forward once again. But what she heard next, yelled by a gruff voice, was not what she expected to hear: ¡°The ceremony to find King Virion¡¯s replacement will spread across Aizasea, and the hunt has already begun!¡±

 IV | Wilted Flowers

    THE SUDDEN BUSINESS OF THE SLUMS MADE SENSE¡ªthe Slums were abuzz with excitement and fear upon hearing the news. That must have been why the man Celvene had spoken to at the circus hadn¡¯t heard of Virion¡¯s demise; news traveled slower to the poorer districts of Aizasea, unless one worked in one of the wealthier districts. And coming from a peasant, others would consider the news of Virion¡¯s death gossip and not fact. That much was obvious by the fact that they got the fine details wrong¡ªmurdered in his own bed? Perhaps his own throne.

    Upon mulling it over, though, Celvene wasn¡¯t surprised. But she was disappointed. King Virion lay dead, and his practice of hoarding resources for the wealthy somehow continued. News of his replacement ceremony was new, though¡ªeven more powerful than the citizens¡¯ fear was their greed. They wanted a chance at Virion¡¯s crown, and the ceremony was their way to do so. Though with the inaccuracies in the headlines screamed around her, she wondered if that gruff voice was telling the truth to begin with.

    The shouts of vendors drowned out the rustle of newspapers. Now that Celvene absorbed what they were selling, almost every merchant on the street was holding a print, whether from an official source or from their own hastily sketched hand. Unnerved murmurs surrounded Celvene, somehow louder than the screams of the vendors.

    ¡°An assassin! Who could have possibly broken into the castle?¡±

    ¡°Have you seen the swords our army wields? It¡¯s no surprise.¡±

    ¡°Who do you think did it? Were they really from Noriya?¡±

    ¡°What if they¡¯re lying? What if he stepped down but doesn¡¯t have the courage to face the public?¡±

    Sticking close to the shadow-shrouded shopfronts of the streets, Celvene kept her grip on her daggers tight and her eyes sharp, ignoring the rumors rippling by. There was a chilly bite to the air; a promise of the upcoming winter season.

    A man near Celvene flexed his arm, smirking. ¡°Do you think I have any chance at that sword?¡±

    From¡ªlikely superfluously exaggerated or simply untrue¡ªrumors, the ceremony would enact a tradition the king had put in place if he were to die. But Virion had made it seem like he could never die, reassuring the kingdom through print and word of mouth how he¡¯d never leave the kingdom defenseless against Noriya. That made the rumors feel even more untrustworthy.

    She¡¯d heard countless methods of how Virion would pick a successor, dead or not: the council could pick the next king, or one of them could step up and take the crown. A battle to the death would pick the most worthy. The people would vote on who they felt was most fit for leading a kingdom. And the most unbelievable? A sword that judged the blood of both the worthy and unworthy.

    She¡¯d never believed any of it, but she supposed she needed to temper her expectations. She hadn¡¯t believed that a god could die, either.

    Celvene imagined his employees had already been to the wealthier districts of Aizasea in search of a new king, to no avail, before they resorted to searching the Slums. They¡¯d look in every nook and cranny for a replacement, preferably in a district that wasn¡¯t the Slums, and Celvene knew they wouldn¡¯t rest until they succeeded. Without a king¡ªand by extension, without any effective method to enforce laws besides his panicking council¡ªcrime would run rampant. Or, rather, more rampant than it already was.

    Would she still be required to go to Virion¡¯s castle with news of the ceremony? He was dead. There was no king to perform for. Most of the castle staff would spread across Aizasea with their focus on finding the king¡¯s replacement. As a result, there was no reason for her to be at the castle; none of the people she would perform for would even be there¡ªif Korvin allowed her to perform in the first place. But if she didn¡¯t show up, Korvin would throw a fit.

    She sighed and continued on her path. She¡¯d have to catch up on sleep another time.

    Ahead, a swarm of men surrounded a wooden stage on the verge of collapse¡ªand right in the middle of her only route to the more tasteful parts of the kingdom, Virion¡¯s castle included. Unless she wanted to be stuck in the Slums, she¡¯d need to pass the ceremony. She knew why they¡¯d chosen the heart of the Slums: to attract all the unsavory and unruly men who lurked in every shadowed corner¡ªperfect candidates for the ruin that awaited the city¡¯s future, and the easiest method to reach as many people as possible.

    The crashing of waves from the nearby pier and squawks of silver gulls did little to mute the cries of men eager to see the crowning of a new king. They were restless, elbowing and bumping one another as they fought to get the best view of the rickety stage in front of them. Rotted wood built the foundation, and as the announcer paced back and forth, the boards sagged beneath his feet. The crudely scratched motto of the city written into a building behind the stage was obscured: Tranora marent, fulhemus.

    Beyond the sea, we shine.

    Hefty footsteps, leather against cobblestone, was jarring enough to snap Celvene out of her focus on the ceremony stage. She¡¯d let her guard down. Her daggers sprung to life in her hands and she swiveled on her heel.

    She was met with a dingy cotton shirt, dark streaks of dirt smeared upwards and a tear from the collar to the chest. Stepping back, she angled her gaze upwards, narrowing her eyes. For a moment, she feared it would be the man she¡¯d cheated out of his earnings at the circus, back to enact revenge on the shoddy dealer. But the man was nothing short of a brute, and certainly not the customer from Painted Sky, with a thinning head of gray hair and enough wrinkles to last multiple lifetimes. His cracked lips curved upwards in a malicious smirk.

    ¡°Lookin¡¯ to watch the ceremony, little lady?¡± he said, his voice a deep rumble.

    Celvene¡¯s eyes fell to the blunt blade resting in the man¡¯s meaty hands, before snapping back up to his face. If she knew anything about the men of the Slums, no matter who they were, it was that you needed to be smart around them. One truthful comment and they¡¯d slit your throat without hesitation.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. She¡¯d avoid conversation, keep a polite tone, and hopefully walk out in one piece.

    ¡°What¡¯s a dainty little thing like you doing ¡®round here?¡± the man said. He shifted his weight, tugging his leather pants higher. Though he looked aged, his moves were youthful. Full of energy. ¡°You should know there ain¡¯t a woman becoming the next king. Why¡¯re you hanging around? You want to watch the men?¡±

    Celvene almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself. If the meathead gave her a moment to talk¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m not watching the ceremony. I¡¯m passing through,¡± she said, taking another step backwards. Part of her itched to cast a spell, but she knew she wasn¡¯t quick enough. The man would shove her to the ground, and she¡¯d be dead before she could begin to think. If she believed in the bustling crowd in front of her, she¡¯d inch her way towards it. But she didn¡¯t trust anyone in the crowd to save her¡ªwhile there were many good people in Aizasea, anyone who hung around the Slums willingly was not among them.

    And she didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d not only ignore her, but join in.

    Behind her were wilted flower boxes, browned petals drooping towards the ground. As Celvene inched her way backwards, the wind from her movements caused a dead petal to flutter to the cobblestones. It crunched under her heel, but she didn¡¯t dare to take her eyes off the man.

    ¡°What¡¯re you hanging ¡®round these parts for, then? You heading to Velvet Row? Golden Spire? Maybe even the Gilded Court? Little thing like you must hang around some elitist snobs.¡± The man¡¯s squinted green eyes blazed with a new fire as his gaze traveled up and down Celvene¡¯s figure, and a ravenous hunger sparkled in the depths. They dropped to Celvene¡¯s daggers for a moment before trailing back up to her face, and he took a step forward, grin widening. ¡°You alone?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°No. My brother is just ahead, waiting for me to join him for the ceremony.¡± An easy lie; Celvene had no siblings. But the man didn¡¯t believe her.

    Celvene took in his hunched stature and the unmistakable lust warping his lips into a smile. For every step the man took forward, Celvene took one backward. It didn¡¯t seem to deter him, however. If anything, it intrigued him more, and Celvene knew formalities were out the window. Slum dwellers didn¡¯t use their words when they found something they wanted¡ªthey let their hands do the talking for them.

    In the distance, the sea around the pier was calm, a contrast to the raging storm inside Celvene¡¯s heart as she contemplated what to do. The bitter salt in the air stuck to her tanned skin with a harsh kiss, whipping the two braids in front of her hair and howling a song of death. Celvene recognized the lyrics anywhere: danger. She was in for a fight, as the sea willed it.

    And, as if jumping to prove her thoughts correct, two brawny hands flashed out of the corner of her eye. Ducking, she didn¡¯t hesitate to raise her weapons and take a well-aimed shot. She wasn¡¯t a fighter¡ªfar from it, being a mage¡ªbut she wasn¡¯t going to willingly let herself fall to a man with empty eyes and an even emptier head.

    However, despite the man¡¯s hulking figure, he was fast. Not only did his hand connect with her head, but he leaned to the side just as Celvene''s dagger shot out, her weapon barely grazing the edge of his mud-stained pants.

    A blade of pain sliced through Celvene''s head from the blow, but she didn''t allow herself to fall. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the man as he stumbled forward, his hands raised to strike once more. Between the rippling muscles below a neck as thick as a light pole and her desire to keep her daggers on hand, she didn¡¯t stand much of a chance.

    When she stepped back to give herself a moment to breathe, the man stuck out one of his long legs behind Celvene¡¯s feet. She stumbled, but before she could fall, his hands wrapped around her neck, and she made sure to keep her grip on one of her daggers steady. She allowed the other to clatter to the ground, and upon hearing the metal strike stone, the man¡¯s grin grew deadlier. A pang of satisfaction struck Celvene¡¯s heart¡ªgood. He was going to let his guard down, believing he¡¯d already won the fight, and he hadn¡¯t seen her other dagger.

    Yet, despite her confidence, her heart fluttered like a terrified bird trapped in a cage. It fluttered with fear. She¡¯d made it out of situations like this before, and she¡¯d adapted, but with every gamble she took, she toed the line closer to death. She knew that. And she¡¯d still let herself get distracted.

    ¡°You talk a big game for such a little lady, don¡¯tcha?¡± the man said, his yellowed teeth flashing. Celvene noticed he had a single golden tooth¡ªlikely fake, altered by transformation magic. She almost smiled. But he pushed her further against the wall and she gritted her teeth instead. ¡°So what are you? A mage? That why you¡¯re defenseless? ¡®Cause I wouldn¡¯t call those little butter knives of yours real weapons.¡±

    Celvene tilted her head, batting her eyelashes. The man¡¯s hold on her neck was strong and unrelenting, and her skin throbbed beneath his touch. The words were hard to force out, but she managed to say, ¡°I¡¯m just a poor, defenseless little lady, sir. I don¡¯t know any magic. Why else would I carry these knives? So put me down, please.¡±

    ¡°Why should I?¡±

    ¡°Well, wouldn¡¯t you like to take me out for dinner? I¡¯m sorry for my brash reaction, but you know the men around here. They get a bit too excited when they see a woman. It was a precaution, you see. You seem like a fine man.¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed, but his pressure loosened slightly. He let one of his hands lower, but his other hand was more than large enough to wrap around Celvene¡¯s neck by itself. ¡°You fibbing?¡±

    Celvene wiggled herself a tad, and the man didn¡¯t notice. If she could lower herself enough to be able to reach his leg¡­ ¡°Of course not. You¡¯re a handsome gentleman, right? I¡¯m sure all the ladies swoon over you. With that golden tooth and all¡­¡±

    Now, confidence rolled off the man in waves. With his free hand, he readjusted his tattered shirt, a smirk crawling onto his lips. ¡°Well, my ma always did say I was a good-looking chap. Jade Tavern sound good? We can head there right now. Ditch this silly ceremony.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do have one problem,¡± Celvene said, fluttering her eyelashes. The man¡¯s head cocked to the side. ¡°I¡¯d suggest you put me down, or you won¡¯t have any fingers to eat that dinner with.¡±

    His lips parted, but before he had time to speak or move, Celvene sunk her dagger into the man¡¯s knee. She twisted the blade before yanking it out with a tug, and the man stumbled back with a pained howl. Before Celvene could blink, he was stumbling forward with his fists ready to swing, but between the crimson blossoming in his pants and the pained, glazed expression warping his sunken face, Celvene didn¡¯t have to make much of an effort to avoid his flurry of punches.

    ¡°A big man talks such a big game,¡± Celvene said, glare glued to the man as he collapsed to one knee. She¡¯d made sure her dagger went deep, but for the man to fall after one good hit? ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, are you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he mewled, a thin sheet of sweat coating his dark skin. ¡°I¡¯m from Vosalon.¡±

    ¡°Wanted to try your luck? See if you could make it big in an influential city, maybe scare a few women into dates while you¡¯re at it?¡± Celvene asked conversationally. ¡°Well, despite its namesake, Vosalon isn¡¯t the place to learn how to fight.¡± I would know. ¡°You stumble around here swinging your arms like that and you¡¯ll be the laughing stock of Aizasea. If I don¡¯t report you to the guards, of course. But you¡¯re too good for prison, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The man was silent for a moment before he nodded. A meek tilt of the head. He cradled his knee, blood covering his hands.

    ¡°You¡¯re not. You¡¯re going to want to work on your charm before you chase after women and lay your hands on them.¡± With one swift kick to his inner thigh, the man was sent screaming onto his rear. Celvene knew she didn¡¯t have the physical strength to break a bone, but grim pleasure blossomed in her heart. She¡¯d sent a fresh wave of pain sailing through the man¡¯s body, and hopefully a nasty bruise to accompany it. If she was feeling daring, she would¡¯ve sliced his other leg, but she was unsure of whether the man would¡¯ve been able to grab her, especially when he¡¯d be on high alert thanks to her previous attack. And besides, her message was clear either way. ¡°Try to remember that the next time you see anyone that spares you a passing glance.¡±

    Before the man could respond, Celvene had taken off. She rummaged through her bag for the one healing potion she carried on her. It was weak, and she knew it would taste sour, but it was better than nothing. Popping off the cork, she downed the liquid, and although it tasted like tart, unripe berries, her neck¡¯s pain dulled.

    She wiped her daggers off with a piece of cloth, tucking them back into their sheathe. Whether they were from Aizasea or another kingdom, all the men in the Slums followed the same pattern: testing their luck with women in the wrong way. She¡¯d vowed never to let a Slum dweller take advantage of her again. While none of them had been as direct as the bleeding man lying on the ground had been, she¡¯d learned and adapted. The same couldn¡¯t be said for the guards; she¡¯d gone to them before with complaints of handsy or suspicious men, and they¡¯d brushed her off, even if the men had touched her. She imagined today would be no different.

    Celvene glanced ahead. Were there guards? There was a crowd of people; the ceremony must have begun after she¡¯d seen it earlier. But Celvene didn¡¯t care to watch. Perhaps she would have if she hadn¡¯t stumbled into the Slums at the worst time, but her luck had never quite smiled down on her.

    After she tried to peer over the sea of heads for a better view, to no avail, she veered away from the crowd, thinking her curiosity was satiated. But upon the fervent cries and jostling of the men quieting down, she spared them one more glance, and the men calmed enough for Celvene to see the scene. At the head, two men stood on the stage. Celvene recognized one as the announcer she¡¯d spotted earlier. His brown skin shone in the moon¡¯s dim light as he walked up to the front. Beside him, the torches lining the streets flickered, providing the light the moon could not.

    With one hand, the announcer lifted the sword, and its golden accents and runes caught the light of the moon. The announcer¡¯s lips moved, but from far away, Celvene would never hear what he said. She didn¡¯t need to, either. The sword¡¯s power spoke for itself as the inscriptions shifted from yellow to glowing red.

    A burst of energy surged out from the blade, washing over the crowd. An odd tension gripped at Celvene¡¯s chest, and when she tried to move, it was like her legs were glued to the ground. She glanced up, and sprouting from her heart, a trail of misty red hovered in the air. It looked like every person in the crowd had the same affliction¡ªa thick veil of crimson covered the air, and the threads gathered in a trail leading to the sword. Celvene silently cursed herself for not escaping when she had the chance, but she hadn¡¯t expected the sword to be able to do that. And now she was at the mercy of the crowd¡ªif they could even move.

    But she was just as helpless as they were. And if the men caught just a glimpse of her, she imagined no amount of guards would keep her safe.

 V | Crowned by Death

    UNAFFECTED BY THE MAGIC GLUING THE OTHERS TO PLACE, the announcer pivoted his gaze to the man beside him, whose wide eyes shimmered with the fear of a coward. Celvene understood his fear all too well; her heart beat rapidly, and her breathing felt heavy and clogged. With every shaky exhale that slipped past her lips, she was certain that if the strange magic didn¡¯t tether her to place, she would fall to the ground.

    She needed to leave. But every time she tried to rip her feet from their frozen daze, her body remained still.

    The announcer smiled as he let go of the sword, which floated in the air, and gestured to the frozen man. ¡°Folks, we¡¯ve found our first contestant participating in the ceremony! Will he wield the Blightbearer sword or fail?¡±

    A fine layer of sweat glazed the contestant¡¯s dark, quivering jowls, and there was a hungry gleam glimmering in his black eyes. He stepped forward, and though his movements were cautious, the thirst for power never quite left his features, only growing stronger as he outstretched his exposed wrist. The sword moved through the air as if wielded by a phantom force, and with one swift strike, sliced into the man¡¯s skin. Even from afar, Celvene saw blood coating the blade of the sword, but after a few seconds, the liquid glowed black and disappeared from the metal. Collapsing to one knee, the man gripped his heart.

    When he¡¯d caught his breath, it was clear the man¡¯s hunger dissolved, and he ran off the stage like a dog with its tail between its legs. Whispers spread throughout the crowd, both curious and fearful, but Celvene couldn¡¯t bring herself to share their intrigue.

    But the myth of Virion¡¯s sword choosing his successor was true.

    ¡­ That being odd would be an understatement.

    ¡°Would anyone else like to give it a try?¡± the announcer asked, raising a hand in the air. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ How about you, sir? And you!¡±

    The announcer pointed to different men in rapid succession. It was like their chains unlocked, and they were free to move, although the red tether from their hearts hadn¡¯t vanished. Each man the announcer pointed to merrily accepted and bounded to the stage. Celvene wished she could share their enthusiasm. But the dangers of her going up there aside, the ceremony looked painful, and she¡¯d already run out of means to heal herself.

    She watched as, one by one, a line of men gathered off the stage. Their whispers were faint but audible¡ªmost murmured about how the crown would benefit them, or what crooked laws they¡¯d enact on their first day as king. Perhaps Celvene would have been surprised if the average moral compass of a person in the Slums wasn¡¯t stuck facing downwards.

    ¡°Screw this!¡± one of them yelled, once unsuccessful. He kicked at the stage before rearing his head back. When he angled his head towards the announcer, his nostrils flared like an aggrieved animal. Celvene had to give him credit¡ªunlike the other men, who¡¯d all fallen to the ground, he¡¯d stayed upright. ¡°It¡¯s rigged. Said it for years. You put on this whole show when you already know who it¡¯s supposed to be.¡±

    How would you say this ceremony was rigged when it has never happened? Virion founded Aizasea and ruled for centuries. He was a god!

    ¡°Oh, we don¡¯t rig the contest, my friend,¡± the announcer said with a grin. ¡°Seems like you aren¡¯t our lucky contestant!¡±

    The contestant¡¯s jaw hardened as he curled his hand into a fist, facing the announcer. The guards near the announcer jumped, ready to protect as the man growled, ¡°You mocking me?¡±

    The announcer¡¯s poised demeanor crumbled, and his emerald eyes widened. ¡°Oh, no. I¡¯m putting on a show for the crowning of our next king!¡± Celvene could hear his unspoken words: which seems to not be you. And with that, he turned his back on the contestant, facing the audience once again. The guards moved closer to the contestant, brandishing their weapons, and the man¡¯s lip curled.

    The announcer took a deep breath, and a smile grew on his face again. ¡°Many have failed. Will anyone be successful?¡±

    The contestant¡¯s unrelenting scowl lingered on the announcer before he shook his head and jumped off the stage, his movements sloppy. The guards behind the announcer shifted, returning to more comfortable positions.

    Celvene wondered how the announcer controlled the sword. She¡¯d believed the theories about Virion¡¯s sword choosing his successor to be hogwash, but she knew the sword did exist. And Virion had been the only one able to wield it when he was alive. It was clearly crafted with powerful magic, but the announcer looked like any man you¡¯d pluck off the streets of the elite districts of Aizasea. Was anyone able to use the sword, and by extent, its magic when it had no owner to use it?

    In Celvene¡¯s humble opinion, Virion, despite his ageless wisdom, was an idiot, but he did have a contingency plan for what his citizens thought was impossible, seemingly relinquishing his sword¡¯s power to serve anyone worthy in the event of his demise.

    Or perhaps he¡¯d inflated his own immortality to soothe citizens¡¯ worries about the war ravaging Aizasea.

    She didn¡¯t have much time to ponder the question. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a lithe figure step onto the stage. Directing her attention to them, she had to stifle a gasp, her burning throat still aching.

    Oriel Veylor. The advisor¡ªor former advisor¡ªto Virion, and one of the most esteemed scholars in Aizasea.

    Gripping their cane, they paused on the stage, as if allowing the men in front of them to bask in their glory. They¡¯d tied part of their blond hair¡ªso light it was almost white¡ªinto a bun resting at the top of their head, allowing the rest of their hair to cascade around their shoulders in a bright halo. They pushed their golden spectacles further up the bridge of their tanned, freckled nose. Their brown jacket was covering a tied white shirt, which they brushed off with a hand. Perhaps the most unique thing about them, though, was the fact that their left leg ended at the knee. In place of a leg was a prosthetic crafted of wood that Celvene had heard was bound to Oriel¡¯s leg so it would never fall off.

    She¡¯d heard a lot about Oriel, both good and bad. She wasn¡¯t sure what was true. All she knew was that they were a demigod¡ªa child of the queen of death and the kingdom of Khezzintis, if whispers in taverns held any truth to them. Their blood was reflected in the dark pools of their eyes¡ªthough it melded with gold, perhaps because of their immortality. But despite their beginnings in another kingdom, they were smart enough to come to a new kingdom with nothing but their wit and ended up becoming one of Virion¡¯s most trusted advisors.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The announcer¡¯s eyes widened once again as Oriel joined him, the rhythmic thump of their cane drowning out the hushed whispers of the crowd. When Oriel came to a halt again, the crowd had all but fallen silent; even when the other contestants had been trying to remove the sword, there had been a steady but low stream of voices.

    ¡°S-Scholar Veylor! To¡­ to what do I owe the pleasure?¡± The announcer swallowed hard.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to try my hand at the ceremony,¡± they said. A thick accent wove through their silvery voice.

    ¡°Of course! Be my guest.¡±

    The announcer scurried back, and Oriel bent down. They leaned their serpent-carved cane against the wooden planks, facing it towards the audience. The beady black eyes of the silver snake stared at Celvene. Both she and the cane knew she wouldn¡¯t be a contestant on that stage.

    A stick was getting closer to the sword than she was. Pathetic. Not that she wanted to try her hand at the ceremony, but it would¡¯ve been nice to have the choice. Maybe if she was in a nicer area, she would¡¯ve had the shot. But in a nicer area, there was a chance she¡¯d look too ¡°unrefined¡± for whoever directed the ceremony.

    Celvene had no way of winning.

    Oriel rolled their sleeves up, features impassive. The sword floated closer to their arm, and again, drew blood with one hefty swing of the blade. Oriel¡¯s blood lingered on the sword for what felt like an eternity, and for a moment, Celvene expected the sword to fall into their hands and brand them the new ruler. But after a few more beats of tense silence, the blood caking the blade shifted to black before vanishing. Celvene waited for a reaction from Oriel, but¡­

    All they did was wince. They didn''t hesitate to retrieve their cane from the ground and limp back to the edge of the stage, lingering by the announcer. Their eyes met Celvene¡¯s, and she furrowed her eyebrows.

    ¡°Folks, we¡¯ll go through everyone here, and any newcomers who want to join in on the fun are welcome to,¡± the announcer said. Two more men rushed to the front. Another wave of magic flowed from the sword over the crowd, and the muted pain in Celvene¡¯s chest renewed with newfound strength. ¡°We¡¯ll be here all night. Well, up until our forecasted storm hits.¡±

    Oriel ripped their gaze away from Celvene and limped up to the announcer. When they whispered something into the man¡¯s ear, their eyes met Celvene¡¯s once again. They held her gaze for a moment before the announcer directed his attention towards her as well. She could do nothing but stare at the two, a frown twitching on her lips. Perhaps they¡¯d let her leave early if the announcer realized she was the only woman here¡ªshe was trying to be mindful of the time, and the clock was dwindling down. She needed to get to the castle soon. Watching the ceremony for a bit had been fun, but she had a life to return to and a boss to please.

    After a stretch of silence, the announcer raised the microphone to his mouth. ¡°Well, folks, we have a change of plans tonight. We¡¯ll be welcoming our first female contestant of the night!¡±

    Celvene snapped her head back to the stage, eyes widening. The magic freezing her halted, and it was like she could breathe again¡ªyet all that she was able to do was wheeze like a confused chicken. The announcer lowered the microphone from his mouth and gestured towards Celvene. Amused murmurs rippled through the crowd as she stepped forward. She could almost hear their thoughts: a woman?

    Thoughts of fleeing crossed her mind. All she¡¯d be doing if she got up on the stage was embarrassing herself, and perhaps falling through a broken floorboard while she was at it. She was a nobody, and the man from earlier was probably right¡ªthe contest was rigged. Virion had chosen a successor before he died. He¡¯d made sure they¡¯d attend the ceremony. And then they¡¯d be crowned in public, showering them in attention and letting the kingdom know their name before the day they took the throne. That person wouldn¡¯t be her. She was a nobody. It had to be someone of status. Power. Yet Oriel wanted to endanger her life¡­ for what reason? To laugh at her?

    And if she somehow completed the ceremony and the men of the Slums caught wind it was a woman who¡¯d completed Virion¡¯s ceremony¡ªnot even counting the men watching the ceremony¡ªshe wouldn¡¯t make it out of there alive.

    But a part of her deep, deep down, wanted to stand on that stage. Even if she was going to fail, it would show she was stronger than the people of the Slums believed women to be.

    Mind made up, she shimmied through the crowd, weaving in and out of the snickering men, some of whom bumped their shoulders into Celvene or let their fingers glide across her arms.

    Two men trailed behind her after being picked by the announcer, their fingers drumming against the railing of the stairs. Ascending the steps, she averted her gaze from the crowd. She could feel the judgemental stares of men barring into every fiber of her being, and she wanted to challenge them by looking at them, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to do it. Not after she¡¯d been attacked mere minutes before. Sibilant, hushed voices mocked her as she rubbed a hand against her dagger¡¯s hilt.

    ¡°Ladies¡­ lady,¡± the announcer said with an apologetic smile, ¡°and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for history in the making. Our first female contestant! No other has volunteered¡­¡±

    The announcer¡¯s voice was drowned out by the rushing of blood in Celvene¡¯s ears. She hadn¡¯t volunteered¡ªthe announcer had chosen her, and she was stupid enough to not turn tail and flee before she was forced to stay.

    Oriel leaned against their cane, scrutinizing Celvene¡¯s every move. Every step taken, every unsteady and hushed prayer that slipped past her lips to the god who had never answered her prayers. Every. Single. Move.

    She wanted to hide every inch of her body from the gazes of the men in the crowd. They knew this wouldn¡¯t end well, and she knew they¡¯d be preying on her after the ceremony had dispersed when she failed and looked even weaker than she did now. She prepared herself to hide from the world in embarrassment in about two minutes¡ªmaybe five, if she was lucky.

    She lifted her sleeves, squaring her shoulders and exhaling a deep breath. Her instincts screamed at her to close her eyes, but she refused, keeping her focus on the silver edge.

    It was over before she realized what happened. A searing pain cut at her wrist, and the warm trickle of blood alerted her to her skin being split. She didn¡¯t dare look down yet, though. The blood now coating the sword was almost mesmerizing, and even if she wanted to, Celvene suspected she couldn¡¯t look away.

    An eternity passed before something happened. But instead of the blood turning black, it melted into an array of golden hues. The sword floated through the air, and the red tethers faded. The pressure was released. And the sword landed directly in Celvene¡¯s hands, its blade weightless.

    Heart sinking, a shaky breath hitched in Celvene¡¯s throat. Her eyes, glued to the sword, were as wide as a full moon. She swallowed, inhaling, but no matter how hard she tried to quell her nerves, nothing helped, and no air entered her panicking lungs.

    Perhaps under different circumstances, Celvene would have felt a tidal wave of excitement. A euphoric feeling that rushed through her blood and tingled the tips of her fingers. But no¡ªas she stood before a sea of glowering men, each contorted face boring into her¡­

    All she felt was fear.

 VI | Cobblestones and Clemency

    CELVENE''S BODY WENT NUMB, a gasp catching in her throat. All she could do was dart her eyes from one man to another. She was going to die at their hands. They wouldn''t let her leave the Slums alive. She''d heard the stories of women foolish enough to venture into the inner parts of the Slums on a normal day¡ªshe''d lived through some of the stories. And she''d entered the city on its most important day in recent years, at the demand of the circus. Money spoke loud, but her life should''ve spoken louder.

    "That bitch rigged the competition! She''s a woman. She can''t be worthy!" one man''s screech echoed through the crowd. And, like clockwork, confused and agitated murmurs rippled throughout the men.

    Celvene shivered, though she was unsure if it was from fear or the ice cold grip that had taken hold of her body. And yet, despite the raw, primal terror that was chaining her to the stage, her grip on the Blightbearer sword remained stalwart. Her hands had not faltered, even as the blade began to glow with an amber flame, heat radiating. Maybe she was weak, maybe she was scared, maybe she was a woman, but she knew one thing...

    She was holding this sword for a reason, when so many men had failed.

    "Get her off that stage!" a man bellowed, and Celvene pinpointed his flushed red face in an instant. The splotchy crimson on his pale complexion was so bright he looked like a tomato about to burst.

    "A woman and a thief. Put her in prison!"

    "Look at her." Another snickered, elbowing his mate in the side as a grin warped his brutish features. "They must''ve put out a fake sword so she''d feel better about herself. Or maybe this is all... uh, what''s the word? A ruse. Yeah! They''re distracting us from somethin''!"

    Celvene narrowed her eyes, though her body moved by itself as she took a step backward. Her nerves jumped as she felt a gentle hand latch onto her shoulder, a startled squeak almost escaping her parted lips. Of course, her mind jumped to the possibility of an undetected man who had jumped the stage to grab her and slit her throat. But upon raising both the sword and her gaze, she met the twinkling eyes of Oriel Veylor. She gulped, body tensing, but something about their presence felt far more calming than the rest of her surroundings¡ªprobably because they were the only person there that didn''t look like they wanted to kill her, save for the announcer. Probably.

    Celvene did wonder why none of the men had protested Oriel''s attempt at the ceremony. She supposed it was because they hadn''t been successful. And Oriel was powerful, both in magic and status, even if their lanky stature didn''t indicate as much. They worked with Virion for so many years that Celvene wouldn''t be surprised if Virion had left his estates to Oriel. One of the most important things Celvene had learned during her time in Aizasea was that a sharp mind could win against brute strength any day. She knew damn well Oriel was among the smartest.

    If anyone could help her out of this sticky situation, it was them.

    "Come," they said, voice so low Celvene almost didn''t hear their murmur. When they guided Celvene''s free hand towards the blade of the sword, Celvene winced out of instinct as the flames surrounding it licked her fingers¡ªbut she felt nothing. If Oriel noticed, they didn''t say, squeezing her shoulder and turning her away from the crowd. "Those men are hungry. You stay here a moment longer, and they''ll have your head served on the nearest sewer grate."

    Celvene blindly obeyed; for all she knew, Oriel would guide her to her doom. But based on the ravenous glimmer in the crowd''s eyes, she was going to have a far better chance of fighting Oriel off than an entire swarm of predatory men. Plus, she imagined Oriel was there for a reason besides attempting the ritual themselves. They were Virion''s highest-ranking advisor; they were likely tasked with helping crown the next ruler.

    Jeers followed them as Oriel picked up their cane and led Celvene down the stage, hand resting on the square of her back. Celvene glared over her shoulder. Though the men booed and cried, they made no attempt to follow Celvene and Oriel¡ªwhen Celvene looked up at Oriel, they''d conjured a small fireball, its flames lapping against their free hand. A warning.

    Her head swam with countless racing thoughts, and she couldn''t process it all. The cobblestone beneath her feet was nothing more than a gray blur. Oriel guided her through twists, turns, and one time, stopped her from walking into an ajar window. Even with her hazed vision, she saw Oriel glance over their shoulder every now and again, but they never dropped their hand.

    "Were you the reason I managed to complete that ceremony?" Celvene choked out, voice small and weak. She was scared, and she knew it. She just had to hope Oriel couldn''t tell.

    Oriel''s gaze dipped to her before fixating on the road ahead. "You wouldn''t have gotten on that stage without me, so I suppose so."

    "No," Celvene said, regaining some of her composure. She pulled herself up straight, but her heart still raced in her chest. "Did you rig the ceremony for me? Why did the sword only work after you touched it? After you chose me specifically to step onto the stage?"

    Oriel remained silent for a moment before sighing. "No, I didn''t rig the ceremony. Dishonesty is one of man''s greatest sins."

    A frown flickered across Celvene''s lips, but she bit it back. "How did you... how did you know I''d be able to do it, then?"

    "I have my ways." Oriel''s hand tightened around the carved serpent resting on their cane, and their gait remained unsteady as the stick thumped against the cobblestone. "Mainly recognizing that you were the only woman in a crowd of hundreds of men. That takes gall. And judging by your neck, you ran into some trouble getting to that ceremony. Yet, you persevered. You were still there. Not the route I would have personally taken, but nonetheless..."

    Celvene, of course, could not see her neck. But she figured it was decorated with hues of black and blue; she had known the potion she drank was watered down when she bought it, but she hadn''t cared enough to confront the alchemist who sold it to her. She couldn''t afford anything nicer.

    "Yes. I was choked by a man in an alleyway. Or... he tried to, at least. It was all over pretty quickly, but he crumpled the second he met my dagger."

    Oriel''s eyebrows furrowed. Their gold-rimmed glasses rose on the bridge of their nose as it scrunched. "And your first thought was to attend a ceremony filled with dangerous men instead of seeking out medical assistance?"This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    "I wasn''t attending it. I was watching from a safe distance, and you told the announcer to pick me. I couldn''t exactly move anyways, seeing as I was affected by magic that didn''t so much as touch you. I was trying to get through the Slums to Virion''s castle. Besides, I felt fine. I had a healing potion."

    She couldn''t blame Oriel for how close she''d been, and how she''d stuck around, and she knew it. Downing that healing potion and booking it would have been her best bet. She had cut it close, and for what? A chance at glory? Respect? Eager to change the subject, Celvene blurted out, "You must''ve been worthy of wielding the sword. It took far longer for it to reject you. Did you reject it? Can more than one person claim ownership?"

    "Virion''s castle? Why were you visiting his castle?" As if mulling over the question, Oriel''s gaze dropped to Celvene''s outfit, then they let out a deep, understanding sigh. "Oh. I see. You''re part of Painted Sky, yes? I heard you were supposed to perform tonight, and despite the shock of the council, the lone council member responsible for planning it refused to cancel. I wasn''t at the last performance, but after hearing what happened and seeing the aftermath, we all thought she was mad for even considering hosting another, let alone planning and executing it."

    "My boss has a way of getting his money''s worth. You would''ve lost even more money. And at the very least, it would''ve provided me with more safety than the Slums does, even with an assassin at large." She paused. "You didn''t answer my questions. Did the king never tell you?"

    "I couldn''t tell you, dear. Only Virion knew the spell he used, and even if I wanted to know its origins or casting, I wouldn''t have understood it. His magical knowledge far surpassed anyone''s in the castle. And I''ve been studying magic for most of my immortal life. Besides, I only went up there to pluck you from the crowd. I never intended to try to wield the sword. It was merely an act. I imagine the host would have allowed me to do so regardless, but I wanted it to look natural."

    "If Virion was so good at magic, how was he killed? Couldn''t he have cast a spell to protect himself?"

    "He believed his guard would be sufficient and that his contingency plans truly covered everything needed to protect him. I''d imagine someone worked from the inside to unravel any precautions he would have placed. There are far too many people in that castle for them to all be loyal to their king with the possibility of what Noriya can offer."

    And now I''m going to be the one dodging death at every turn.

    "I can''t lead an entire kingdom," she said. "I can barely lead in the circus."

    I''m definitely not making it to the performance tonight, even if Oriel is taking me to the castle. Who knows what I''m going to have to do now? Korvin will have my head tomorrow.

    "You don''t have much of a choice, I''m afraid. Virion decreed that whoever the sword chose would take his place," Oriel replied. "The second his sword is bonded to your soul, you are destined to take the throne. The results if you shirk your duties are rather... macabre."

    "I..." Celvene''s heartbeat stuttered in her chest, and she inhaled. Macabre? Did Oriel mean she would die?

    She glanced over her shoulder to the empty street behind her, hands fidgeting on the Blightbearer sword. There was no doubt it would be an efficient weapon to protect herself, but she''d never wielded anything larger than a dagger. If a man caught up to them and attacked her, she''d fall over from the heavy weight of the sword before a blow could even land.

    Her lip wobbled. "I can''t do this. I''m late for my performance. And even if I wasn''t, I can''t do it regardless. Virion was king for centuries. I am not the right person to take his place. Someone else in the castle has to be qualified enough. Didn''t he have a will? Wouldn''t he have a backup plan in case he was assassinated? Did he not think Noriya would try to kill him? Why didn''t he designate a real leader to take his place? I¡ª"

    "The ceremony was his backup plan. Whatever spell he used, it was able to read something in the hearts of those whose blood it absorbed. In all honesty, that spell is a better judge of character than Virion was. And, again, it''s not your decision to make. Unfortunate, I know, but it''s reality. Fate has been written for you. It''s your duty to follow it."

    Celvene was silent for a moment before she asked, "Excuse my bluntness, but are you upset?"

    "Excuse me?"

    "Upset? Sad? Disappointed the king died? You don''t seem touched." Perhaps her words were considered rude, or out of place, or she''d lose this apparent right to become queen. But if Oriel was going to be her advisor, she wanted to know their temperment. Their emotions. Celvene had her own flaws, but they made her human; if Oriel was always as detached as they seemed to be, did they have flaws? Did they care for others? Was it a byproduct of their immortality? ...If she was assassinated, would Oriel not care then?

    Of course not. We just met.

    It was Oriel''s turn to fall quiet, and when they spoke, their voice was far softer. "What''s your name?"

    "Celvene," she said, her voice as brittle as broken glass. "Celvene Virac."

    "Well, Miss Virac, it''s a pleasure to meet you. As you know, my name is Oriel. I''ll be your guide for as long as you are queen." Their hand tightened around Celvene''s shirt as the two rounded a corner.

    Why was Oriel avoiding her question? Had she upset them? She bit back a frown; she''d known the question was out of place, but she couldn''t help but ask. She''d had so many people leave her over the years. Her parents had given up so much for her to have a better life, and she hadn''t seen them since the day they parted. Her childhood best friend had been whisked away to another kingdom years prior, and after a few letters, Celvene had never heard from her again. She didn''t know if she had the strength to let someone else get close to her, just to leave without a word. If Oriel was to get as close to her as they had with Virion, she''d see them every day. Could she stomach them abandoning her if she misstepped? If she made a mistake?

    And why was she the person the sword picked? A nobody who was more akin to the rats living in the canals. She didn''t want to lead Aizasea. She had other responsibilities. And if today was any sign of how her potential rule would go, she''d be facing assassins and usurpers left and right. But Oriel was doing their job, she supposed. She''d have to figure out another way to weasel herself out of this.

    Though it wouldn''t be the worst thing in the world to become queen. She''d always dreamed of becoming something more, of making her parents proud. When they were in the Moonlight Circus together, they had always begged her to do something more than they could provide¡ªup until they shipped her off to the Painted Sky Circus, and she never heard from them again. She didn''t resent them for it, though. Painted Sky looked far better than Moonlight from the outside, but things were different within the canvas walls, and Celvene was tempted to live on the streets if that meant she could reunite with her family. But if she took the throne, that wouldn''t be necessary, and Celvene could repay her parents'' sacrifices with a life of luxury in the palace, together.

    A bell rang above her, and as she was shoved into a building, her view cleared. She hadn''t even realized they''d approached a rundown shop, with a weathered brick exterior and flimsy wooden sign hanging from a curtain reading "closed."

    "We''ll be safe here. This is one of the kingdom''s shops used to hand out resources to citizens," Oriel said, shutting the door. A click followed their words soon after. "It''s protected by a lock few have the key to, and the building has been collecting dust for years. Those men likely lost our trail if they followed."

    Likely?

    "I wouldn''t be so sure of that, scholar," an icy voice rang out, deep and dangerous. But in the darkness shrouding the shop, Celvene couldn''t see who it was. "That was quite the ceremony."

 VII | A General Pain

    UPON THE MAN¡¯S DEEP VOICE CUTTING THROUGH THE AIR, the Blightbearer sword, which had been clutched in Celvene¡¯s fidgeting hands, fell to the ground with a cling, and the flames grew dull. She wasn¡¯t going to fight with a sword. It would make her clumsy and slow.

    Naturally, her fingers brushed the fabric covering her dagger as she waited for an attack. A man lurking in the shadows couldn¡¯t have good intentions. Oriel, on the other hand, looked completely nonchalant. Bored, even.

    ¡°General,¡± Oriel replied, their voice even colder, akin to winter frost. ¡°Did you follow me?¡±

    Amber light bathed the small shop as Oriel lit a candle. They frowned as they lifted the candle to reveal the man. Celvene took a step back, her heartbeat stuttering, and knitted her brows. He was a hulk of a man, tall with broad shoulders. His messy gray hair was wild and unkempt; the loose waves framed his square jaw, his jowls quivering as a smile crossed his thin lips. His eyes, blazing a deep blue, crinkled. Was he from Vosalon?

    ¡°Of course not,¡± the man said. His voice was a rumble of thunder, a gravelly mess of two stones scraping against one another. ¡°There aren¡¯t many safe places you could bring someone who removed that sword, and this shop was the only one on the path to the castle. I would have thought you¡¯d think with your brain, scholar. Not your heart. Anyone with a connection to the castle could have sniffed out your plan in seconds, and what would have happened to this lovely little lady then? Could you protect her from another assassination?¡±

    The man¡ªor general, as Oriel called him, had a vicious aura to him that was so intense it was nearly palpable. Celvene swore he looked familiar, but as she stared at him, she couldn¡¯t place where. He laid a sword across his shoulder, meaty hand twitching on the hilt. Despite Oriel standing almost as tall as him, he had to be double their width.

    Every inch of Celvene was screaming at her to move. To attack, to run, to do something. She knew this man was minacious, and staying here meant she was risking her life. But as Oriel stared at the general with an apathetic frown, she remained still. Perhaps her instincts were too heightened after her journey through the Slums.

    ¡°I cannot believe you would rig the ceremony. And not only that, but for this doll.¡± The general snickered. He stepped forward, reaching a hand out to cup Celvene¡¯s chin, but she stepped back. Her grip on her dagger tightened, and she narrowed her eyes. ¡°Perhaps she should be sent to the afterlife for her treachery.¡±

    ¡°Watch your tongue, Aleksandr,¡± Oriel said. ¡°Think what you would like about me, but she finished that ritual on her own. She¡¯s deserving of her upcoming spot in the court, and she¡¯s deserving of wielding that blade. She is the rightful queen now. You¡¯d do well to show her the respect that position demands and not call her treacherous.¡±

    Aleksandr? That¡¯s his name?

    ¡°Not all the wicked are caught,¡± Aleksandr said, tilting his chin up.

    ¡°Like you?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand, Veylor,¡± the general said with a sneer. ¡°There will be no replacements in the court, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Oriel¡¯s jaw locked, and Aleksandr tilted his head.

    The general sighed before turning to Celvene. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ whoever you are, but I don¡¯t accept scholar¡¯s pets as sufficient replacements for King Virion.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s the rightful queen, whether you like it or not, Aleksandr,¡± Oriel said. They gripped their cane, their gloves creasing as they scowled at Aleksandr. Their eyes held chips of golden ice and they did not relent their stare. ¡°Your worthless words do not triumph over tradition.¡±

    A sharp bark of laughter escaped Aleksandr¡¯s lips, and he smirked. ¡°Oh, Veylor. Sweet, na?ve Veylor. She won¡¯t be the ruler of these lands. I forbid it.¡±

    ¡°And who are you to deny me?¡± Celvene hissed, mustering up the courage to speak. Her hand curled into a fist, and she made sure to rest it near her other dagger¡¯s sheathe. Sure, she had a perfectly good sword sitting at her feet that was twice as lethal, but she felt far more comfortable with her twin daggers.

    Aleksandr took a step forward, kneeling down so he met her height. They were nose to nose as they glared at one another, his fire against the frost of Celvene¡¯s stare. Celvene didn¡¯t dare breathe, and she tensed in preparation for a fight. With another infuriatingly cocky smile, Aleksandr rose and clasped his hands together.

    ¡°I¡¯m the general of the Blightbearer Army, miss. After Virion, I¡¯m next in command. I¡¯m who will be standing in as king, until a man is elected as our new ruler.¡±

    ¡°General?¡± Celvene scoffed, brows lowering. ¡°No wonder the army is in shambles.¡±

    The Blightbearer Army¡¯s numbers had been diminishing day after day as the Noriya Brigade continued to slaughter Aizasea¡¯s soldiers. But Aizasea refused to surrender. It had gotten to a point where many citizens wondered if continuing to fight was worth it; after all, there was a chance Noriya could provide them with a better, more stable life than Virion had. Celvene wasn¡¯t sure whether she agreed or not, but she¡¯d heard countless rumors of how wonderful life in Noriya was¡ªa utopia.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± Aleksandr said, eyes narrowing. His eyebrows pinched, but the corners of his lips raised in a taunting smile. ¡°You won¡¯t rule over Aizasea as long as I¡¯m alive.¡±

    ¡°And how exactly are you going to stop me?¡± Though Celvene was a fly to this behemoth of a man, she knew a general had to act with tact and diplomacy out of combat. ¡°Virion ordered that the first the sword chose would become ruler. It¡¯s my duty. My fate. Your position in the army means nothing. Why would a general be deemed next in line to rule? That¡¯s ludicrous.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Perhaps if the circumstances were different, Celvene would agree to Aleksandr taking the throne. By the gods, she would have merrily accepted had Oriel or any other council member offered to take the throne. A general was bound to have more leadership experience than a circus mage, but judging by the way Aleksandr¡¯s ¡°defenses¡± against Noriya were going, the throne would collapse underneath him before he could utter a word. The rest of Aizasea would follow. As much as Celvene didn¡¯t care for certain characters of Aizasea, not all of the citizens deserved such a fate. Probably.

    She couldn¡¯t say the Aizasean government had the same concern for their people. Their army had never been adequately equipped for any battle, and from the gossip Celvene heard around the circus, the military received just enough funding to take on drunkards in a single tavern brawl¡ªyet it received the most money from Virion¡¯s delegations, whereas failing infrastructure, withering crops, and suffering citizens received nothing. How Virion thought they could stand up to the Noriya Brigade was beyond Celvene¡¯s comprehension.

    Maybe Virion wanted to inspire the rest of Fellstride to band together against Noriya and thought struggling would make them pity Aizasea. Maybe he had a secret plan and was biding his time. Or maybe he, a supposedly wise god, was more mortal than the Aizaseans expected, especially after his wife¡ªhis only family¡ªbecame a casualty of war.

    Or maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe wanted Aizasea to suffer.

    ¡°Duty? Fate?¡± Aleksandr¡¯s voice cut through her thoughts. His tone carried a level of merriment that made Celvene¡¯s nose crinkle. As if to rub salt in the wound, he laughed. A single, dark bark of laughter. ¡°No. The only duty you have is to lay down your supposed right to the crown. I respected Virion, but he was soft. Weak. You would be no better. We need someone who will put a stop to this senseless war, once and for all, and your butter knives and¡­ is that a uniform for the Painted Sky Circus?¡±

    Aleksandr glanced over at Oriel. ¡°You believe a jester to be fit for the throne? And I thought Virion had a sense of humor with his failed jesters. There seems to be a running trend with those who are destined to rule over this kingdom.¡± Aleksandr smiled, placing weight on the word ¡°destined¡± as he clasped his hands together. He mocked Celvene. And he mocked the man he¡¯d served just days before.

    If there was anything Celvene could understand about the fallen king, it was how being separated from family could change a person. Maybe some, like Aleksandr, would call that weakness. Maybe, despite the military¡¯s losses, the general was more experienced than Celvene was. But the sword chose Celvene for a reason, and from their brief conversation, Celvene was certain about one thing: Aleksandr didn¡¯t care about the citizens of Aizasea; all he cared about was power. And as little as Celvene knew about politics, she couldn¡¯t imagine an irresponsible army general had any right to the throne.

    But she did. She knew one thing: she would fight to finish the war, one way or another.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a jester,¡± replied Celvene, shaking off the note of defensiveness that crept into her voice. She opened her mouth to inform Aleksandr what exactly she did, but upon meeting his icy gaze, she clamped it shut. ¡°And I believe I could lead this kingdom far better than you ever could. It¡¯s been years without any progress in the war against Noriya. Why would the kingdom elevate a man who cannot control just the army¡ªwould we want the same fate to befall the rest of the kingdom? And how would you stop my right, anyways?¡±

    She knew she was lying¡ªshe knew she¡¯d have to learn how to lead the kingdom. She¡¯d need to learn how to be a queen. But that was okay, because she could fix the kingdom¡¯s problems with the power to do so. It didn¡¯t seem as though Aleksandr felt the same. He just wanted power for the sake of having power. For the sake of having people to control.

    ¡°I have an army behind my back who listen to my every command without question. You¡¯re one woman. You¡¯d be trampled the moment you unsheathed those pathetic excuses for daggers,¡± Aleksandr said. His gaze lowered to her knives before returning to her eyes, and Celvene got the feeling he was ignoring her questions on purpose; he knew he had no right to the throne. ¡°You should see a smith and get those sharpened.¡±

    She opened her mouth to argue, but he was right. Even if she was the rightful ruler of Aizasea, she couldn¡¯t defeat an entire army by herself.

    She would not be queen. Not now. But now, there was a fire burning in her heart. She had the urge to prove this bastard wrong, and to make her parents proud. She could work her way up from the bottom, just as she¡¯d been doing since she was a child.

    ¡°Fine,¡± was all she said as she tucked her daggers into her pocket. ¡°But I refuse to let you strip me of everything that¡¯s mine. I want compensation.¡±

    Compensation for what? She didn¡¯t know. Money? A place in the palace? She¡¯d appreciate anything that wasn¡¯t living in a cramped apartment lining the streets of the sea, wondering if her next circus performance would pay enough for her to buy a half-decent meal.

    Aleksandr clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his gaze went skyward. He pondered the question for a second before asking, ¡°Compensation how?¡±

    ¡°Give me a way to prove myself to you. I can lead Aizasea, and I want the chance to show that.¡±

    Oriel shuffled their feet beside her, still remaining silent. Before, they¡¯d been quietly tapping their cane against the floor, but now, they fell still. Were they wary of Celvene¡¯s proposal? Did they think it was possible to overtake a general with the power to take the throne?

    ¡°I fear I don¡¯t need a showing of your leadership capabilities. You will never touch that crown as long as I am in the castle, dear jester.¡± Aleksandr¡¯s smirk, taunting and relentless, lit up with a knowing malice. His blue eyes sparkled with ignoblest. ¡°I¡¯m afraid all I can offer you is a position as a servant in the castle.¡±

    A servant? That was hardly any better than her position as a circus worker¡ªand if she was going to be a servant to Aleksandr himself, she had a hunch the position would be even worse than Painted Sky.

    ¡°That is unbefitting, Aleksandr, and you know it,¡± Oriel said. Their jaw went taut.

    Celvene wondered if they were angry they couldn¡¯t do more to stop Aleksandr. Like he¡¯d said, he had the army at his back. Oriel was powerful, but she wasn¡¯t sure if they could beat an army and emerge victorious. And even if they could, what would happen next? Aizasea would be left defenseless.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s better than what she¡¯s doing now,¡± Aleksandr said, gaze flicking to Celvene¡¯s body. ¡°Her rags don¡¯t indicate she¡¯s of much wealth or status, and I¡¯ve heard Painted Sky is quite dirty. The pay would be good, and she could house herself at the castle. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks. She¡¯d primarily do maidwork. Cleaning, cooking¡­¡±

    Celvene bit back a retort. Was it worth living a better life if she had to do so under the man stripping her of the power she hadn¡¯t had a chance to gain? The man who was going to steal her crown?

    If she accepted, she could work from inside the castle to rise to become queen. She¡¯d be fed. She¡¯d be paid. And she¡¯d have a better living situation than her crummy apartment. If she denied, she¡¯d have no way of ever becoming queen and making a name for herself. She¡¯d have to go back to Korvin¡¯s circus, a job she despised. She¡¯d be barred from the castle, and perhaps from Aizasea as a whole, considering everyone would recognize her now, thanks to the ritual. There would have been enough reporters lingering around the area to catch a glimpse of her face and scribble it down. Her face would be plastered on every newspaper in the city.

    She frowned, sighing. She could swallow her pride¡ªfor now.

    ¡°When can I start?¡± she asked.

 VIII | The Show Must Go On

    ALEKSANDR HAD OFFERED HER A POSITION AS A CASTLE MAID.

    Celvene didn¡¯t know whether to feel offended, grateful, or something else entirely. It was undoubtedly a better position than working for a scamming circus that paid her as little as possible¡ªassuming Aleksandr would actually pay her. But was that how she wanted to begin her path to claiming the crown? Others considered castle staff, like maids, to be beneath them, especially the royalty and nobles residing within the walls of the palace. They were viewed just as Celvene was now: no better than a sewer rat. She¡¯d go from being frowned upon in one section of the kingdom to frowned upon in another.

    And there was no telling whether or not her life would actually improve. But not many people could be worse than Korvin¡ªshe hoped.

    Though, she supposed, she would need to know what the life of the castle staff was like if she was to understand them, should she manage to take the throne. Celvene had experience being poor. She didn¡¯t have experience being poor in the castle. And she¡¯d likely be far more safe lodged in the palace than she would be in her crummy housing near Aizasea¡¯s pier. Sure, there were no assassins near the pier, but she heard countless brawls just outside of her window weekly. She¡¯d learned what a bone breaking sounded like her second week in the kingdom. Her first, she¡¯d discovered just how loud a person could scream.

    She hadn¡¯t accepted everything, though. She¡¯d told Oriel she needed time to think when they¡¯d asked her to accompany them back to the castle¡ªbecause she did. Too much had changed in too little time. She¡¯d not only gone from being a nobody in an endless kingdom to somebody, she¡¯d become the prospective queen in less than a day. The kingdom¡¯s morale had shattered, their question had gone unanswered, and now, if they didn¡¯t want Celvene¡¯s head, the people of Aizasea would turn to her for solutions. She knew that Aleksandr was a mere barrier she needed to overcome to gain access to the throne. That didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t offer the kingdom honeyed words to soothe their worries before Celvene could figure out how to push him out of the picture. And if he got into the heads of civilians before she could use her voice to make a difference, there was a chance the subjects she was meant to rule over would reject her in lieu of Aleksandr. He could become the true king.

    Celvene had to make sure that didn¡¯t happen.

    But despite her determination, she was reluctant, too. Scared, even. She had no experience leading. She had no experience being a noble¡ªeating at feasts, making political decisions that changed the course of the city, dancing at balls. All she¡¯d heard of nobles and castle staff doing was wasting their time and relishing in Virion¡¯s abundance magic, stuffing their faces and ignoring the real problems of the kingdom¡ªbut even the mundane, stupid things the nobles did, Celvene had no right to partake in. There was no true reason for her to become queen, and with the war pounding on their door, Celvene feared she wouldn¡¯t be able to stop it before it usurped the kingdom. There was a reason she worked in the circus instead of the castle.

    Part of her wanted to give up. She¡¯d been offered a better position than she currently had. That should¡¯ve been enough to satisfy her.

    But it wasn¡¯t¡ªshe wanted to make her parents proud. That was the driving force behind her actions in life. That was why she continued to push herself when she was at her lowest. When the day came when she reunited with her parents, if it ever came, she wanted to be someone they could be proud of. What better way to do that than to become a queen of one of the four kingdoms? She could provide her parents with everything they deserved. She could give them the life they¡¯d always wanted.

    Celvene sighed and drew back the opening tent to the circus. Back to work, she thought.

    Part of her wished she¡¯d gone back to the castle with Oriel and faced Korvin¡¯s music when she got there, but Oriel had given her the space she asked for. That meant she hadn¡¯t shown up to Korvin¡¯s performance. She didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d expected her there; he¡¯d surely heard about the ceremony.

    Celvene dreaded seeing him, regardless of the outcome. If he felt positively, he¡¯d beg for resources from her when she took the crown. If he didn¡¯t¡­ Well, he wouldn¡¯t let her leave at all.

    She blew out a deep breath and took a right, feet scuffing against the gaudy, tattered carpet lining the dirt. There was no scheduled performance for the night, so Celvene could soothe her worries by practicing her deck. The cards had a way of reminding her that something remained constant.

    But as she passed one of the slim openings on her side, a squeal made her stop in her tracks. Then, a familiar voice screeched, ¡°Celvene!¡±

    Celvene¡¯s head swiveled to the side. As soon as her eyes settled on the opening, it split apart and Quinn came barreling out, arms raised and an unbelievably large grin plastered to her face. She crashed into Celvene, and Celvene had to dig her heels into the carpet to avoid toppling over.

    Before Celvene could process what happened, Quinn planted a hard kiss on her cheek, still smiling. She¡¯d always greeted Celvene¡ªand anyone else¡ªthe same way. She¡¯d said that kisses were a common way of saying hello in Aizasea, but Celvene had never seen anyone else do that¡ªand she¡¯d been in the kingdom for a handful of years.

    ¡°Oh, I heard all about the news,¡± Quinn gushed, relinquishing her hold on Celvene. Her dark curly hair was tied in a ponytail, dark tan skin slick with sweat; she must¡¯ve been working out right before Celvene arrived. ¡°Queen? You? I can¡¯t believe it!¡±

    ¡°Neither can I,¡± said Celvene, cracking a small smile in return and brushing off her uniform. Her hands itched to control her cards, but she clamped her hands into fists. She¡¯d have all night to fiddle around with them. ¡°It definitely was not where I saw my night going when Korvin forced me to leave early.¡±

    ¡°He told us you¡¯d left early on your own accord, and he¡¯d begged you to stay with the group.¡± Quinn¡¯s cheeks puffed out before she let out a breath. ¡°I guess I should¡¯ve seen that coming.¡±

    ¡°How did the performance go?¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t go at all. Korvin seemed to get cold feet when he heard the news. The workers at the castle went into a frenzy, and Korvin made us leave before the workers recovered. The news must¡¯ve rattled everyone.¡±

    ¡°Are people that scared of me? I¡¯m not exactly a hulking man. I don¡¯t think I could harm a fly if I didn¡¯t have the upper advantage.¡± Celvene¡¯s mind strayed to the man in the alleyway she¡¯d encountered right before the ceremony, but she shook the memory away with disgust.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s just¡­ surprising that a peasant immigrant was the one to wield the sword.¡± A half-apologetic, half-joking smile crept onto Quinn¡¯s tanned face. ¡°No offense, obviously. You know tha¡ª¡±

    Footsteps. Familiar ones, at that. Celvene¡¯s heart sank. Then, they stopped. Celvene glanced to her side.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Korvin stood at the opening of the room. He placed his hands on his hips. ¡°Ah, Celvene, you¡¯ve returned!¡± There was no recognizable rage in his tone¡ªonly calm. Joy, if Celvene deluded herself enough to think as much. But why? She¡¯d skipped their performance.

    Korvin¡¯s head slowly turned to face Quinn, like an owl. ¡°Quinn, why don¡¯t you¡­ give us a moment? I need to catch Celvene up on what she missed at the palace performance. It was quite a show, right?¡±

    Quinn¡¯s face paled and she nodded¡ªperhaps a bit too vigorously¡ªbefore bounding out of the room, leaving Celvene alone. So she was going to have to face the music after all¡ªjust a day after she¡¯d originally thought. Was she surprised? No, but it would¡¯ve been nice to be left alone for the day, at least.

    ¡°So,¡± Korvin started, tightening his gloves. ¡°You were the lucky one able to extract that sword.¡±

    ¡°If by extract, you mean wield it¡­¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Korvin said, waving her off. Then his hands rose to his bowtie, fiddling with the fabric. While he wasn¡¯t as dressed up as he was for the palace¡¯s performance, he was more dressed up than he¡¯d usually be on a day off. Celvene had a hunch she knew why.

    ¡°Is there any real reason you wanted to speak with me?¡± she asked, trying not to let impatience seep into her tone. The last thing she needed was to burn any bridges when there was a chance she¡¯d need Korvin for some unfathomable reason while trying to claim the throne back. ¡°I heard you cancelled the performance anyways.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Korvin¡¯s smile broadened. His voice pitched at the wrong times, like he forced his cheer to be evident. ¡°You see, after you missed our last performance, I was upset. Why wouldn¡¯t I be? My best worker skips out on a performance with the most important people in Aizasea? You understand that, right, pup?¡±

    Celvene¡¯s gaze strayed to the faded circus walls behind Korvin as she thinned her lips in a refusal to answer. Dirt crawled up the side, staining the red and white fabric muddled tones of brown. A few small tears ripped through the fabric, and the verdant foliage on the other side was slightly visible. But Celvene¡¯s focus redirected when Korvin¡¯s hand jutted into her peripheral, snapping his fingers.

    ¡°Right, pup?¡± he repeated, a flicker of anger brewing in his dark eyes.

    ¡°Right. Sorry,¡± she said, fighting off the urge to roll her eyes. The first thing she would do when she became queen was kick Korvin out of Aizasea. She was sure there was more than enough evidence of illegal and nefarious activities to get him banned from ever stepping foot in Aizasea again.

    ¡°But with this wonderful news, I¡¯m willing to forgive you. Queen of Aizasea? That could do wonders for our business! Do you know how many people would flock here after learning of the success we breed? Of your incredible origins at the best circus in Fellstride?¡±

    Celvene was silent for a moment before she said, ¡°A lot, I would think.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! The queen works with glitz and glam. If people know you¡¯re here every night, that¡¯s free business for us. I mean, with that crown on your head, autographs would bring a hefty fee¡­ That, or you could send us a bit of extra money with the resources Virion hoarded.¡±

    ¡°But do you think I would have time for the circus if I¡¯m queen of the kingdom?¡± She paused, trying to find her resolve. But it was difficult. ¡°Maybe in a few years¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have years,¡± Korvin interrupted, one corner of his smile raising in a sneer. ¡°You know that.¡±

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know if I can help. It would be a conflict of interest. People would know I came from here, and they would wonder why I¡¯m delegating resources to the circus. There would be gossip for days, and the headlines would destroy my image.¡±

    Truth betold, Celvene simply didn¡¯t want to help Korvin. A sordid boss didn¡¯t deserve repayment¡ªmaybe if he raised her pay like she¡¯d asked for every year, she would¡¯ve accepted.

    Korvin chuckled. ¡°Then I suppose you won¡¯t be able to take that throne. After all, you have another job to tend to. You¡¯ll be far too busy to lead a kingdom.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my destiny to take that throne!¡± Celvene said, Oriel¡¯s words echoing in her head. Had they been right all along?

    Korvin¡¯s grin froze to a sneer of ice. ¡°You can scream of destiny all you like, but the throne doesn¡¯t bow to birthright¡ªit bows to power. And yours clearly wasn¡¯t enough.¡±

    Anger bubbled in her gut¡ªa surprising feeling, but one she would welcome. She rarely allowed herself to feel around Korvin. ¡°You think I lost the right because I wasn¡¯t strong enough? Because I didn¡¯t fight hard enough? What would you have done differently in my position, Korvin? I hardly had that right in my grasp long enough to look it in the eye, much less actually take the crown. I put up as best of a fight as I could, and I¡¯m not stopping here. That crown will lie on my head. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±

    Korvin¡¯s smile grew taut, taunting, and his black gaze darkened. ¡°You fought and you failed, Celvene. That¡¯s the only story this kingdom will remember.¡±

    To Celvene¡¯s surprise, as she inhaled, she kept her voice calm and steady. She lowly replied, ¡°I was never meant to beg for power. I was born to wield it. And you cannot stop me from leaving.¡±

    ¡°Oh, such poetry, Celvene. But you forget who you learned your tricks from. I see right through your facade. You¡¯re scared,¡± he said, ¡°and you think you can talk your way out of it. Your easy flattery has been seen before. You¡¯ll charm no one in that palace with empty words.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re so much more charismatic, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to be,¡± Korvin said. For the first time she could remember, Korvin¡¯s grin fell. The sight of his scowling face was unnatural, and against her will, Celvene squirmed, shifting from foot to foot. ¡°I¡¯m not the deluded little girl who thinks she has a chance of leading one of the four kingdoms. I know my limits. You should as well.¡±

    Something wiggled in Celvene¡¯s stomach: shame. Was he right? Korvin had provided her with shelter and a steady job since she arrived in Aizasea, and she couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d thanked him. She wouldn¡¯t be where she was without him¡ªshe never would¡¯ve completed the ceremony if it wasn¡¯t for him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, the words chalky in her mouth as it lost its moisture, like she knew she should have never uttered the words. But that didn¡¯t stop her. ¡°I¡¯ve been ungrateful. I know that. But¡­ Please, give me a second chance. I won¡¯t be queen for a while¡­ if ever. I can still help at the circus.¡±

    Her mind screamed. She didn¡¯t know what she wanted¡ªqueen, palace worker, circus performer, it was all so dizzying. One moment, she was sure of what she wanted, and the next, something occurred that made her change her mind entirely. Celvene¡¯s stomach rocked with unease.

    ¡°That¡¯s no good, Celvene. You¡¯ve been given second chances so many times now, and every time, I¡¯ve been lenient. I¡¯ve been a good boss. Better than you deserve. In a way, you¡¯re like a daughter to me, especially when Jalsina is acting up. You know her. But you¡¯ve become worse than her. You¡¯ve become weak. This kingdom needs a strong leader. Not someone like you. But I must thank you.¡±

    Celvene¡¯s lip nearly trembled, but she caught the movement and bit her lip instead. She forced her voice to be steady as she muttered, ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve opened my eyes at last. I see what a blight you are in this circus. You may be pretty, but you¡¯re not pretty enough; someone like you shouldn¡¯t have a place here. You never should have in the first place. You¡¯ve tested my patience time and time again, and each time, I let it go, but I can¡¯t any longer.¡±

    Celvene winced. She¡¯d been so close to standing up to Korvin. So close to finally giving him the, unfortunately verbal, beating he deserved. And she¡¯d backed down at the last second. Her mind quieted, filled only with one thought: He was right. You failed. She clenched her hands into fists, tears brimming in her eyes.

    Then it came before she could even see it coming. Korvin¡¯s hand raised, then struck forward, contacting Celvene¡¯s cheek with enough force to send her head snapping to the side. Blood pooled in her mouth from where she¡¯d bitten her cheek, and once she¡¯d realized what happened, she raised her head, eyebrows furrowed. Korvin¡¯s black gaze drilled daggers through her. Celvene stared at him in shocked, familiar silence.

    ¡°Consider this your termination.¡±

 IX | Old Friends

    WHY CAN''T I CATCH A BREAK?

    Celvene¡¯s feet pounded against the cobblestone, quick, frantic steps. She didn¡¯t risk a glance over her shoulder. At least three people were chasing her, maybe more, and taking time to ogle at them would slow her down.

    ¡°Get back here!¡± one yelled¡ªa new voice, female, judging by the sound of it. Not one of the voices she recognized. So more had joined in. Great.

    She ignored the woman¡¯s blubbering cries, lowering her head and focusing on increasing her speed. She had done absolutely nothing. She wasn¡¯t even in the Slums.

    She¡¯d visited the castle¡ªwhich was a royal failure, considering she hadn¡¯t been able to get past the guards¡ªbefore heading off to buy some vegetables and see if she could find a blade sharpener. And of course, it all quickly proved to work against her. One person had recognized her, made a fuss, and now half the merchant¡¯s circle was trying to catch Celvene.

    And really, now, after what had happened at Painted Sky, she had nowhere to go. Nowhere to seek refuge. Her cheek still ached at times from Korvin¡¯s slap, and thinking of the situation never failed to bring tears to her eyes. So she didn¡¯t think about it.

    She could run to the castle, sure, but would they recognize her, even after turning her away before? Let her in? And what was she to do when she got inside?

    Risking death, in Celvene¡¯s humble opinion, was a more comfortable option. Her options were running out before she was kicked out of her living arrangements, though, so she needed to work fast.

    ¡°You rigged the competition! I deserve that crown!¡± another voice, male, screeched. She hadn¡¯t recognized any of the faces who had pursued her, and that strengthened her worry. If people she¡¯d never seen before recognized her and wanted her dead, she wasn¡¯t going to be able to stay alive for long.

    Rounding a corner, she ignored another yell of, ¡°Stop running, calicula! You¡¯re only making this worse for yourself.¡±

    Her fingers fumbled for her pitiful sack of runespowder, and once she untied it, she increased her speed. She wouldn¡¯t be able to draw a rune while running¡ªshe had to put enough distance between her and the mob so she could escape. When their cries were quieter, she skidded to a stop and whirled around, runespowder already dumped into her hand.

    Thankfully, quick rune-casting was emphasized in her academy education as a way to show whether or not a student could memorize different runes effectively. Within seconds, she¡¯d drawn an ice rune, and she cast it without a second thought before turning and sprinting off. The crackling of ice from behind told her the rune had worked. She¡¯d constructed a simple ice wall to deter them or slow them down.

    Another rune being cast alerted her to incoming danger. She had to hide, and fast. She didn¡¯t know what the spell was, but chances were, they¡¯d bypassed her wall completely, and they¡¯d catch up in no time.

    Looking around, she spotted a dark alley, shrouded in shadows. She hurried into it and came to a stop before her heart sank¡ªit was a dead-end. While she felt the urge to check if she¡¯d lost her pursuers, she ignored it, sticking to the darkness. She wasn¡¯t going to be able to go back out without them seeing her.

    A moment later, Celvene could hear the same angry screams from before, quickly approaching. She inched her way back, sinking further into the shadows. A thunderous rumble of footsteps passed by the alleyway, accompanied by several figures. Celvene held her breath, watching, and didn¡¯t dare to move. Most of the voices faded away, but two stuck around¡ªwaiting for her. Celvene¡¯s heart was racing, and she slid her dagger out of the sheathe attached to her leather pants. Her ears twitched at the sound of something besides the small mob.

    All she could hear at first were hushed murmurs. She looked behind her, and none of the mob had stopped to investigate inside the alleyway¡ªyet. Chances were, she wasn¡¯t going to be able to exit the same way she¡¯d come in; she¡¯d have to go up regardless if she wanted to leave with her head still on her shoulders. Grabbing onto a brick staircase attached to the building beside her, she hoisted herself up, making sure her movements were silent. It was easy enough, given her past with acrobatics.

    She climbed to the top of the building¡ªa flat gray slate¡ªand when the voices grew clearer, her interest was piqued. Making sure she was obscured from vision, she crouched down, peered through a crack in the roof, and leaned closer to make out what the two silhouettes were saying. Her heart raced when she recognized the shape of one of them, and a bitter taste filled her mouth.

    A Noriyan soldier?

    She couldn¡¯t see who was with the soldier all too well; their figure was nothing but a black smear. The soldier, however, was more than visible. Her blonde curls fell over her shoulders, and the Noriya city crest, a dragon holding a sword in its maw, was tattooed on her upper arm, colored a variety of red and silver hues.

    Her outfit was the opposite of what Celvene had expected soldiers to wear; she¡¯d taken people¡¯s word that they wore their armor everywhere. This soldier wore a simple black outfit that fit her body well, the sleeves bunched up close to her shoulders and exposing her arms. If she didn¡¯t have her city¡¯s crest plastered on her skin, Celvene wouldn¡¯t have suspected a thing, and she had an inkling the soldier believed the potent shadows of the alley to be enough to cloak her most identifying aspect.

    The soldier reached into her pocket, and Celvene stiffened. Whatever the soldier said was drowned out by the rhythmic laughter of a nearby bar, and in the distance, Celvene could still hear shouting. She lowered herself, careful to remain in the shadows, before dropping to the cobblestone ground. She landed without a sound, narrowing her gaze. There was an exit at the end of this alleyway, and unless Celvene wanted to scale a building with no experience in doing so, she had to escape through this path. All she needed to do was somehow sneak past the soldier and her accomplice.

    How could the soldier be so bold? To stroll into Aizasea, a city designed to be protected from Noriya¡¯s army, like she was welcomed here? Perhaps she was being careless, but maybe her fearless showing of her city¡¯s crest was something more. Maybe she wanted others to see her. To know that their city wasn¡¯t as stalwart in its defenses as they believed it to be¡ªthat it was vulnerable.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    For the magical barrier the king¡¯s council insisted was impenetrable to be slipped past by no more than one soldier. But that soldier was putting a lot of trust into anyone walking the streets after the moon rose, especially if she was defenseless, judging by the lack of weapons on her body. Even if Celvene was no longer stuck in the Slums, the people of Aizasea had their fair share of war, and Celvene suspected many of them would have no issue starting a fight with a single Noriya soldier.

    Behind Celvene, she could hear voices approaching. The mob had entered the alleyway she¡¯d just left, but considering she couldn¡¯t make out what they said, they hadn¡¯t thought to look on the roof yet. And would they look down if they made it up?

    The soldier was heedless as she continued to converse with the cloaked figure. Now that Celvene was closer, she could see a folded piece of parchment resting in the soldier¡¯s gloved hands. Celvene unsheathed her other dagger, the hilts cold in her expectant palms. She didn¡¯t know what that paper had written on it¡ªif anything¡ªbut she had a feeling it wasn¡¯t good.

    A Noriya soldier would have no reason to travel into their enemy¡¯s territory if it wasn¡¯t for something important. And she didn¡¯t know what the soldier was capable of¡ªCelvene either needed to get out of there, and fast, or she had to wait and hope the soldier didn¡¯t spot her.

    But judging by the faint shimmer of green magic surrounding the soldier, she was keeping a hunting spell up. Chances were, she had sights on everything around the alleyway¡ªincluding Celvene. And if so, her position was compromised, whether or not she was on the rooftop. Her choices were to slip past the soldier, or climb back up to the roof, and one of those wasn¡¯t going to be possible without making a lot of noise and drawing the soldier¡¯s attention. Celvene stifled a sigh.

    Not daring to move yet, she held her breath. She hadn¡¯t even been aware that those from Noriya could come to Aizasea. Aizasea had its own protective dome, and Noriya did as well, though theirs was actually effective at keeping the city safe. There were grassy plains swarmed with trees in between Noriya and Aizasea where many of the war¡¯s battles were fought, stained red from conquest magic. So how had a Noriya soldier been able to come to Aizasea, without help? She supposed it made sense, though. How else would Virion have died to a Noriyan assassin?

    The soldier tucked the paper into her pocket. Celvene could see a mask of a dragon covering everything on her face except her eyes, but not much more.

    Funny, considering the most important identifying aspect of the soldier was out for the world to see. Celvene doubted her face mattered as much as her tattoo, though the soldier rolled her crimped sleeves down as her shoulders lost their tension. The soldier¡¯s ego had to be through the roof if she thought no one would see her, but honestly, Celvene had to admire her confidence.

    Soft footsteps faded away as the figure the soldier had been talking to walked into the shadows. Celvene waited, biting her lip so hard she was surprised she didn¡¯t draw blood.

    Walk out. Please.

    The soldier¡¯s sharp crimson eyes were revealed as she turned to face Celvene. Her gaze leveled into a glower, though Celvene couldn¡¯t make out any other facial features. The cold dread that had plucked at her skin, however, exemplified.

    The girl¡¯s melodic voice sounded oddly familiar, and that was a fact solidified as she said, ¡°Who¡¯s there? I could sense you on the rooftop. I know you¡¯re somewhere.¡±

    Celvene remained silent, flattening herself against the wall. The moon had set, and there were no light sources on the streets as it awaited the dawn¡ªthe light of the stars illuminated the area, and that provided nothing. She didn¡¯t know what spell the soldier was using, but if she had only been able to sense Celvene¡¯s presence, there was a chance she wouldn¡¯t be able to pinpoint where Celvene was. The alleyway was wide, and if the soldier was foolish enough to venture into the shadows, Celvene could easily ambush her.

    The soldier unsheathed the iron sword resting at her hip. So Celvene had missed her weapon perched on the side that had faced away from her. That made things a little more complicated.

    The girl hissed, ¡°I won¡¯t ask you again. Come out, and there¡¯s a chance I won¡¯t slit your throat.¡±

    She didn¡¯t have runespowder on her that Celvene could see. If she¡¯d used a scroll for her spell, then there was no way for her to find Celvene.

    Celvene continued to stay quiet, raising her daggers in anticipation. She didn¡¯t want to kill someone. Not again. But if she had to, she would.

    The faint smell of blood swirled in the damp air.

    The soldier¡¯s mouth tightened into a straight line and she flared her nostrils before raising her sword and taking slow steps towards the shadows.

    ¡°I can feel you,¡± she said, gaze slowly surveying the darkness. Her shoulders were tense, and her hands were tight around the hilt of her sword. She was scared. Yet, she continued to make her way to Celvene¡ªand she was nearing fast.

    When she was close enough that Celvene knew she¡¯d be able to spot her, Celvene didn¡¯t waste time in thinking; she acted. In one swift motion, she grabbed the girl from behind and pressed the sharp edge of her dagger against the girl¡¯s throat.

    The soldier remained still, her body as stiff as a board pressed against Celvene¡¯s. The girl had been expecting this, and if Celvene had to guess, she¡¯d let Celvene grab her. In the brief struggle, the girl¡¯s draconic mask had fallen off her face and clattered to the cobblestone, its crimson hues shining in the low light of the stars.

    ¡°What¡¯s a Noriyan soldier doing in Aizasea?¡± Celvene asked, voice low and dangerous. She didn¡¯t care if the girl¡¯s voice was familiar¡ªthe soldier was an enemy, and she needed to be treated as such. Pressing her blade further into the girl¡¯s skin, she didn¡¯t dare relent her hold at all. She wasn¡¯t letting her guard down; she knew the soldier would fight back at some point.

    ¡°None of your business,¡± the girl snapped before rearing her head back. The back of her skull smashed into Celvene¡¯s nose and an explosion of pain slapped Celvene in the face as her grip faltered.

    So much for being prepared.

    Next thing she knew, she was on the ground, daggers out of her hands and clattering onto the road. The girl was now standing over her, one foot planted on Celvene¡¯s stomach. And not only was she familiar, but she was breathtaking, more than Celvene remembered.

    She didn¡¯t know how she hadn¡¯t realized it before. Perhaps because they hadn¡¯t seen each other in years. But she knew she¡¯d never forget this soldier. She¡¯d believed the girl could do no wrong. But those years of shared laughter and friendship had vanished the moment she¡¯d moved away.

    The girl¡¯s eyes were bright and vibrant, the same shade of the blue sky right before storm clouds rolled in. Just as stunning as the first time Celvene had seen them. A light dusting of freckles flecked on her flushed cheeks, stars buried in her sandy-colored skin. Her lips were parted as she glowered at Celvene, huffing. The moment their eyes connected, gray against blue, the girl¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Celvene?¡± she whispered, voice quivering.

    In response, all Celvene could utter was a weak, ¡°Mel?¡±

 X | Fire and Ice

    THE MELTING CHIPS OF FROST in Melantha¡¯s eyes were plentiful. But even with a frozen tundra encapsulated in her eyes, her gaze softened. Her lips parted, though no sound emerged, and her hold on Celvene remained strong. After a moment of heavy silence, she whispered, ¡°You moved to Aizasea?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a Noriyan soldier?¡± Celvene replied, her shocked voice a murmur.

    Melantha tensed and turned her head away. ¡°Long story. Why did you attack me?¡±

    ¡°You were trying to kill me!¡±

    A low scoff escaped Melantha¡¯s lips, and she twisted her foot. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to kill you. I still won¡¯t. Unlike your city, I don¡¯t believe blood should be shed for the sake of it.¡±

    Melantha must have taken up some serious exercise regimen since Celvene last saw her, because her hold on Celvene was strong. Celvene¡¯s struggles to free herself proved futile rather fast, and she frowned. She wasn¡¯t surprised, per se; if Melantha was a soldier for the enemy now, Celvene was sure she didn¡¯t skip training. She¡¯d never enjoyed missing important events. A bit ironic.

    ¡°You said you¡¯d write,¡± Melantha continued, freckled nose scrunching as she looked down at Celvene. ¡°What happened?¡±

    The bitter taste of blood tainted Celvene¡¯s mouth, the scent of iron plaguing the air. She could feel the warm dribble of crimson trickling down her skin. She sniffed, and the pungent smell fanned outwards. ¡°I did write. You¡¯re the one who didn¡¯t respond.¡± She bared her teeth in an unwelcoming snarl. ¡°Cut the niceties. The idle chatter. Why are you here? Imagine I yell that there¡¯s a Noriyan soldier attacking me. People would flock to kick your ass.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t going to do that, but the thought was nice to have. She¡¯d been hunted down by an angry mob minutes before. Chances were, some of them would run to find the Noriyan soldier. And if they didn¡¯t, Celvene had no way of telling whether any potential saviors¡ªif anyone even came¡ªwouldn¡¯t recognize her and react the same as the others.

    Melantha¡¯s gaze hardened, the ice in her eyes freezing once again. ¡°I¡¯m not cloaked because no one was supposed to find me. And please. I know you didn¡¯t write, and if you really wanted to, you would¡¯ve found a way, even with your busy schedule.¡± She gave an elaborate pantomime performance of waggling her fingers while rolling her eyes.

    Is she being serious?

    ¡°Really, Mel?¡± Why was she so focused on not receiving Celvene¡¯s letters when she was trespassing in the city she¡¯d taken part in attempting to dismantle?

    Melantha bristled. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that, Celvene. We¡¯re not friends anymore. It¡¯s foolish to act like we are.¡±

    ¡°Mel¡­antha, I wanted to write, but after my first few letters, I couldn¡¯t. I ended up tied up with the circus, and you know that. I didn¡¯t have a choice in leaving, and I couldn¡¯t leave when my parents gave up so much to protect me. Maybe I didn¡¯t have time to write after my first few letters, but that doesn¡¯t mean I forgot you. Why would I have forgotten my best friend?¡±

    Then she saw it: a flash of silver in Melantha¡¯s gloved hands. She¡¯d taken Celvene¡¯s daggers in their quarrel. She forced out another breath, warmth tickling her skin. ¡°And for all your complaints about how I didn¡¯t write, I never got a letter from you, either. Give me back my daggers. Now.¡±

    Melantha remained silent for a moment before her voice tainted with overwhelming bitterness. ¡°The circus. Sure. I knew you were a clown, but by Zelphar, Celvene, this is a new low.¡± Melantha ignored Celvene¡¯s demand as she ran one blade through her graceful, gloved fingers. ¡°You¡¯re lying to me about it now. What would have stopped you from lying years ago?¡±

    Between Melantha stripping Celvene of her weapons and her blatant mockery of what Noriya soldiers had done to the citizens of Aizasea, Celvene had heard enough.With a surge of annoyance, she grabbed Melantha¡¯s leg and ripped it off her chest. Melantha stumbled to the side, shocked, nearly losing her footing and giving Celvene enough time to scramble to her feet.

    ¡°Rich,¡± Celvene snapped, tensing herself for another fight, even if she was bare and defenseless. She wouldn¡¯t be able to cast any spells without Melantha disrupting her. ¡°I suppose I was the only one expected to put any effort into our relationship after you left. If I was supposed to write to you, why did you not have to write to me? I spent years waiting for a letter to arrive. Never got any.¡±

    Melantha fell silent, but as Celvene stared into the depths of her eyes, she saw a conflict raging in the blue. The belief of broken promises and the ache of words left unsaid. Celvene could¡¯ve sworn she saw the faintest shimmer of tears cresting Melantha¡¯s eyes, but the girl blinked them away and angled her head down.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    When she finally spoke, her voice was the softest whisper Celvene had ever heard. ¡°You never got my letters?¡±

    Celvene wanted to be upset. She wanted to yell at Melantha for being so foolish. For believing Celvene would throw her to the side after their forced departure. For believing that Celvene would forget her best friend.

    But she couldn¡¯t.

    And some odd part of her had already forgiven Melantha. Maybe it was because she¡¯d finally seen the girl again after so many years, because Celvene¡¯s heart had been screaming to see her again. Or maybe it was because she could never stay mad at Melantha. She didn¡¯t know the reason, and a small part of her didn¡¯t want to know it. But she couldn¡¯t deny the raw pain in Melantha¡¯s voice just now. She was genuinely confused. Hurt. Unmoored.

    Celvene went to take a step forward to comfort Melantha, but stopped herself before she moved. ¡°Melantha, I promise I¡¯m telling the truth. Why would I lie to my best friend? I spent so many restless nights waiting to see a courier arrive at the circus.¡±

    If anything, I should be the one hurt, Celvene wanted to say, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to speak it aloud.

    Melantha tensed and said nothing, but her head hung lower.

    ¡°You want to believe me, but you can¡¯t, can you? Did you get any of my letters? I sent a few.¡±

    ¡°Silence,¡± Melantha snapped, but Celvene could detect a strong hint of reluctance that Melantha tried to mask with her angry tone. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t listen to Aizasean scum.¡±

    Before, Celvene had struggled to be irate, but for Melantha to call her names after Celvene had tried to console her was uncalled for. Maybe Melantha was upset, but that didn¡¯t give her an excuse to lash out. ¡°Oh, because you¡¯re so much better. The perfect little princess has turned traitor and started to support the city who is attempting to wipe out the entirety of Fellstride.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous, Celvene, and untrue. And unlike you, I don¡¯t assume the worst of everyone,¡± Melantha said, nose wrinkling in a snarl. ¡°We aren¡¯t trying to wipe out the world.¡±

    Celvene scoffed. She and the rest of the world knew the truth: King Zelphar wanted control of the world, and he¡¯d accomplish that¡ªslowly¡ªthrough any means necessary. And, unfortunately, Celvene would say his army was thriving from the king¡¯s choices. They¡¯d had minimal casualties from what she¡¯d heard during the course of the war, and they didn¡¯t have to exhaust many resources to bring Aizasea to its knees.

    No one knew why Zelphar waged war on Aizasea, and no one knew whether his conquest truly would spread to the other kingdoms should he succeed in Aizasea. Maybe he wanted the precious stones buried beneath Aizasea. Maybe he simply wanted control. Or maybe he started this war to toy with Aizasea and Virion as petty revenge. Celvene wasn¡¯t sure of the reasoning for the war, but if it had gone on for as long as it had, with a competent army facing one of the weakest on Fellstride, she had a feeling Noriya could have won with ease, a long time ago. The king of Noriya had a strong army at his back.

    She wasn¡¯t sure why Virion still fought the war after so long. From the way he treated his kingdom while he lived, it didn¡¯t seem like he had much of an interest in keeping his citizens and borders safe.

    The fifty-year war between Aizasea and Noriya showed no signs of stopping with Aizasea¡¯s current defenses and Noriya¡¯s apparent disinterest. The fighting went through waves, where it slowed to a halt before ramping back up with Noriya trying to breach Aizasea¡¯s inner defenses. They¡¯d never succeeded, but from what Celvene had heard, they weren¡¯t trying to. They were toying with Aizasea like they were prey, and Noriya was the predator.

    Celvene bit back a retort. No one in Aizasea cared for Noriya. The citizens were bitter the king had allowed so many to die because of a senseless war. Celvene had a feeling that the average citizen wasn¡¯t saddened by the news of Virion¡¯s death; if anything, they would have been overjoyed.

    ¡°Look, Melantha,¡± said Celvene instead. She¡¯d had enough of Melantha¡¯s games, and whatever the reason for her visit, Celvene knew it couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Get out of here. You¡¯re barred from entering Aizasea for a reason, soldier. And one girl infiltrating the kingdom means nothing. Don¡¯t pretend otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Celvene,¡± Melantha cooed, honey coating her infuriating tone. She let Celvene¡¯s daggers fall out of her hand, and they clattered to the cobblestone with a dull thud. But Celvene didn¡¯t dare move to grab them yet¡ªif she tried, Melantha would just push her to the ground. ¡°You think I¡¯m alone right now? You have no idea what¡¯s coming for your kingdom.¡±

    Celvene narrowed her eyes, heartbeat stuttering as Melantha laid a hand on her sword¡¯s sheath. She knew that she should attack. Fight tooth and nail to protect the lands she was supposed to rule over. Destroy the cloaked trespasser with ill intentions.

    But she couldn¡¯t.

    What did Melantha mean by that? She let her gaze drop to the stones below her, taking in the situation, hoping Mel told the truth when she said she didn¡¯t want to kill Celvene. She couldn¡¯t kill her childhood best friend. They hadn¡¯t exactly been amicable for a few years, sure, but Celvene couldn¡¯t shake the joyful memories dotting her clouded mind. And she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to forget them, as much as she told herself otherwise.

    The screeching of steel commanded Celvene¡¯s attention, and her head snapped up¡ªbut Melantha was gone. Celvene looked around, but the girl had vanished into thin air. She curled her hand into a fist before scooping her daggers up and sliding them back into their sheathes.

    Virion forbid that girl is ever easy.

    She checked the area around the alleyway before leaving. The mob had either dispersed or taken the wrong trail, so as long as Celvene was fast, she¡¯d be able to make it home. The next day, hopefully she¡¯d be able to make it to her friend in one piece. She¡¯d asked him to train her in the ways of the sword so she could defend herself should the castle be invaded, and after seeing Melantha, Celvene had a feeling that she would need to learn more than just the basics of sword fighting.

 VI | Training Lesson

    ¡°IT''S RIDICULOUS, Khamisi. A queen? Me?¡± Celvene threw her hands up with a dramatic flourish, a sharp whoosh following her words as her sword cut through the air. The wood was unfamiliar beneath her gloves, and she found it unnerving how heavy the sword was compared to her two daggers, but it still wasn¡¯t as heavy as the Blightbearer sword. ¡°I can hardly remember to sweep under my wardrobe when it¡¯s dusty. Leading a kingdom would be ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°You seem to be excited, though. Being queen could be sweet,¡± Khamisi said, his jet black gaze following Celvene¡¯s fervent motions.

    Unlike Celvene¡¯s own skin, slick with sweat, Khamisi¡¯s dark brown skin, dotted with patches of light brown, was completely dry. He was unfazed, and Celvene was already panting like a dog ten minutes into their lesson. It was a little embarrassing, but if she was going to become queen, she needed to be able to defend herself with something more reliable than sad excuses for daggers. That, paired with the way Melantha had made her look like a child holding their first weapon whilst simultaneously taking their first steps, meant she needed training¡ªand fast. If Melantha were to return to Aizasea, Celvene couldn¡¯t be caught off guard again.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you be?¡± she asked, breathless.

    Khamisi¡¯s wide shoulders dipped in a shrug. Smile lines were etched next to his eyes from the countless times his eyes had crinkled when laughing. A pewter flat cap, tip upwards, flattened his dark wavy hair as he shoved one hand into the pockets of his waxed cotton jacket. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Leading isn¡¯t my forte. But if you don¡¯t want to be queen, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth it to stress yourself out so much. Don¡¯t pursue something you don¡¯t want. You¡¯ll be unhappy that way.¡±

    It had taken a lot of begging on Celvene¡¯s part to convince Khamisi to help her train. He¡¯d said in passing that he used to be a colonel for Khezzintis, one of the other kingdoms that Oriel and Korvin also hailed from. The kingdom had never seen the battlefield, seeing as they avoided combat. In Celvene¡¯s short lifespan, she¡¯d learned that the rest of Fellstride had given up fighting back against the tirade, because they knew they¡¯d never win against a god, even if they had their own gods leading their kingdoms.

    Khamisi knew how to fight, even if his typical approach to combat wasn¡¯t with swords and daggers, and Celvene needed to learn how to wield a sword. She didn¡¯t trust Aleksandr to let her roam the castle alive. Noriya attacking the castle was also a possibility, and when Celvene moved in, she¡¯d be at constant threat of being ambushed. The least she could do was learn the basics of fighting methods. She¡¯d sent Khamisi a letter asking for as much training as he could provide and nothing more. He¡¯d told her, as a precaution, he was a planner and not a fighter. But judging by his ability to strike and dodge with ease, he did know¡ªunless Celvene was that bad.

    She breathed out an aggrieved sigh, newfound vigor guiding her sword thrusts. And yet, even though she was confident at least one shove of her sword would strike Khamisi, he dodged each swipe with ease. He¡¯d demonstrated how to hold the sword, but Ilari was beginning to think she wasn¡¯t holding it right.

    ¡°You¡¯re not putting enough power into your strikes, love,¡± he said, his unique, heavy blend of Khezzintian and Aizasean accents thick and rich. When they¡¯d first met, they¡¯d bonded over the fact that they¡¯d both moved to Aizasea against their will at a young age. Celvene from Vosalon, and Khamisi from Khezzintis. But she scarcely saw Khamisi, as she was forced to attend circus practices and performances every day to ensure she had enough pocket change to get her through the day. If she wasn¡¯t going to be performing in the circus anymore, she¡¯d be able to see a lot more of Khamisi. Perhaps she¡¯d be able to employ him at the castle as a colonel for their army once she managed to get the crown.

    A sharp jab of pain in Celvene¡¯s abdomen snapped her out of her daze. She looked up, and Khamisi¡¯s wooden sword was resting against her stomach.

    ¡°I thought you wanted to train. Daydreaming isn¡¯t effective on the battlefield,¡± Khamisi said, a small smile crossing his face. His bright teeth contrasted his skin like a star in the night¡¯s sky.

    ¡°I do. But it''s tough when I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing. Did you even use swords in the army?¡± she asked, readjusting her hold on her sword. No matter how she held it, it didn¡¯t feel right.

    ¡°I used them on rare occasions. But I know how to use a dagger, and a sword is essentially a giant dagger.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°It works for me,¡± Khamisi said. He went in for another strike, and to Celvene¡¯s surprise, she moved swiftly enough to block it¡ªsort of. She smacked Khamisi¡¯s sword with her own, but it didn¡¯t make much of a dent in his attack. His sword thrust forward again, but focusing on the training didn¡¯t seem to be on his mind as he conversationally said, ¡°You think you can give me a tour of the castle? Once you¡¯re ready to go, of course.¡±

    ¡°I can try, but we¡¯re going to both be clueless. I haven¡¯t stepped foot in the castle yet.¡±

    Khamisi looked off into the distance. Celvene threw her sword forward, the blunt blade sliding across Khamisi¡¯s jacket. He glanced down, brows knitting. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t play dirty!¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Celvene smirked, her voice shaking with laughter. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have been distracted. I can take you to the castle now, if you¡¯re not busy tonight. I¡¯ve put off visiting for long enough. I¡¯ve been sulking since the ceremony.¡±

    Truth betold, she wasn¡¯t sulking; between Korvin¡¯s ¡°termination¡±¡ªwhich she was beginning to think was a lax version of what he truly wanted to do to her, given what she¡¯d seen in the past¡ªand meeting Melantha again, Celvene had enough to satiate a lifetime of dramatics. Adding Aleksandr to that list would just give her a headache. Right now, the only person in the entire castle Celvene wanted to see was Oriel, and she had a feeling the sentiment probably wasn¡¯t mutual. But Celvene needed a job now. She had to go to the castle at some point.

    The night had risen, and with it, a cold nip to the still air. The silver moon above them cast ample light onto the lands, mixing with the golden flames licking at the towering street lights lining the streets, fueled with magical fire. The shimmer of magic above them was dull, the purple ripples barely visible in the night¡¯s frigid air. It was the dome that protected the city from the more destructive weathers¡ªand she supposed it also kept them safe from Noriya and its soldiers most of the time. As part of gaining citizenship, you were branded with a small crest of the city that allowed you to move in and out of the city. The dome was efficient in keeping outsiders out for a few minutes¡ªbut if they wanted to get in, they would have no issue figuring out a way to slip inside. That much was obvious from Melantha¡¯s ability to sneak into Aizasea.

    Such a stupid yet smart girl.

    Khamisi had them train outside, as it was a rare day where the overbearing wind of Aizasea had subsided, even with a rainstorm in the forecast. Celvene didn¡¯t understand his sentiment; it was far more dangerous to be out during impending storms. Not just because of the weather, but because no one would be outside to hear a scuffle or danger if they needed help.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°I can find time in my busy schedule,¡± Khamisi said. ¡°You know, I have five other people lining up to have an afternoon with me. I¡¯m a popular man.¡±

    ¡°Popular with the ladies, too?¡±

    ¡°You know it,¡± he replied, clicking his tongue and winking. He thrust his sword forward again, and when Celvene once again failed to dodge, she frowned, shoulders sagging. Khamisi was slow to remove the sword, tilting his head. ¡°You good?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Just¡­ discouraging to not be able to do this. I¡¯m not used to being amazing at things, but I can pick them up quicker than¡­¡± she gestured to the sword, ¡°this. I can use my daggers. Why can I not use a sword?¡±

    ¡°Well, I was lying when I said a sword is a giant dagger. They¡¯re different, and you need to treat them like they¡¯re different. They¡¯re both weapons, but I think of swords as an extension of your arm. You hold your daggers angled, facing away from you but following the length of your arm. You want a sword to face the opponent, away from your arm. Place your hands at opposite ends of the hilt and keep them open, letting your lower hand lead the blade.¡± Khamisi watched as Celvene adjusted her grip, and to her surprise, it felt far more comfortable. He nodded. ¡°If you want more power, you close your hands. Also, you¡¯re not going to be amazing at this immediately. In all honesty, you probably won¡¯t be good at it at all unless you¡¯re constantly training.¡±

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t have a lot of experience with swords.¡±

    ¡°I was lying about that too. I have a fair amount of experience. Just not as much as the other soldiers did.¡±

    ¡°Of course you were,¡± Celvene said, pushing the blade of the sword forward. To make me feel better. While Khamisi still dodged, it was a much closer call than she¡¯d managed before. She refused to allow her spirits to be dampened, tightening her grip on the sword.

    Khamisi went to strike her with his sword, but she stepped to the side. A small smile crossed Khamisi¡¯s face.

    She steadied her hold on the sword before swiping it at Khamisi. He stepped back, but she didn¡¯t hesitate to meet him in tandem, taking another shot at his abdomen. While the sword was still heavy in her hands, she imagined it as an extra long extension to her arm¡ªa part of her. When she swung at Khamisi again, she sank the edge of the wooden blade into his side.

    She felt a smile grow on her face. ¡°You were right.¡±

    ¡°When am I not?¡±

    Celvene chuckled, turning the sword over in her hands. They weren¡¯t planning to train for long, so they¡¯d be able to head to the castle soon. ¡°Would you ever join Aizasea¡¯s military? If I become queen.¡±

    Khamisi tensed, puffing his cheeks out. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I could make it so you don¡¯t have to fight, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡±

    ¡°I-It¡¯s not you. Or the fighting. I just¡­ want to leave that in the past. I didn¡¯t join the military by choice, and even if I was decent at it, it¡¯s not something I want to return to.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Celvene said, and Khamisi¡¯s shoulders relaxed. Was he used to people pushing further than that? ¡°You still want to go to the castle? If you don¡¯t, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯m sure these newfound sword skills will protect me on my journey.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d die, Celvene. You still need to practice. Having one training session with me where you learn how to hold a sword isn¡¯t going to do anything for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the confidence booster, Kham,¡± Celvene replied, handing him her wooden sword.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And¡­ I¡¯ll still go to the castle. To support you, and to gawk at how huge it is. I¡¯ve always dreamed of going inside.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard Virion was definitely a partier,¡± Celvene said. ¡°It¡¯s quite obvious from the few rooms I¡¯ve seen. And it¡¯s insensitive. He put so much money into making the palace a luxury, and he said that same money didn¡¯t exist when it came to protecting the city from a war he started.¡±

    ¡°I wonder how he was able to attract any citizens in the first place,¡± Khamisi hummed. ¡°Let¡¯s go. The moon is at its peak, so we¡¯ll have the most light.¡±

    ¡°The war didn¡¯t start as soon as he founded Aizasea,¡± said Celvene, and the two started their journey to the castle. ¡°He probably took in the refugees that wanted to escape Noriya. I can¡¯t imagine their life is all that great.¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­¡±

    ¡°I know someone from there. She seems miserable,¡± Celvene said. ¡°In terms of personality, at least. Not someone you¡¯d want to be around for long.¡±

    ¡°You know someone from Noriya?¡± Khamisi asked, the shock palpable in his voice. Celvene could detect a hint of disgust as well.

    And she couldn¡¯t blame him. Most people in Aizasea had lost something, or someone, in the war. Whether it was an estate, family member, or something as small as a beloved weapon, Celvene knew most people hated Noriya with a burning passion. Before she¡¯d arrived, the war had been even worse; it had improved over the three years she¡¯d been in the city, with Noriya finally being barred from entering the city and protecting everything inside Aizasea¡¯s stone walls. If Celvene had seen anyone but Melantha, she either would have tried to jam her dagger into their throat or shout for help. She didn¡¯t know why she¡¯d been so careless with Melantha, and she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to.

    And there was a glaringly obvious downside to becoming queen: while she inherited the city, she inherited all its problems, too. She¡¯d be tackling a war that had been raging for years. She¡¯d have to figure out how to solve the more minor issues that plagued the streets, like the widespread famine and the criminals running rampant. She¡¯d be cleaning up all the sloppy messes Virion had left for her with next to no guidance, save for Oriel, because Virion had conveniently disbanded the Royal Council a few years prior. It would be strenuous work, but based on Virion¡¯s tenure as king, it was going to be difficult for Celvene to perform any worse than the former king had.

    Celvene sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know when she went there, but she¡¯s there now. I actually, uh, found her yesterday. She¡¯s the reason my nose is busted up.¡±

    ¡°Found her where?¡±

    ¡°In the city,¡± Celvene said. Why had she even brought Melantha up?

    ¡°How did she get into Aizasea? Isn¡¯t the dome supposed to keep outsiders out?¡±

    ¡°Kham, that force field is rubbish. You know it. I know it. The entire city knows it. I¡¯m sure Noriya knows it too, and that¡¯s how she was able to get in. I can¡¯t imagine it¡¯s too hard to bypass,¡± she said.

    ¡°Is she a friend? If she¡¯s living in Noriya, I can¡¯t imagine she is,¡± Khamisi said, rubbing the nape of his neck. His gaze was fixated forward, like he didn¡¯t want Celvene to see his face.

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± admitted Celvene. ¡°We used to be friends, but we drifted apart, to put it kindly.¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe she isn¡¯t there by choice. Maybe she needs help getting out of there, or she needs a push to realize she needs to leave. And maybe that push should come from you. You should see if you can find her again. Maybe she¡¯ll be in the city again next week, and you¡¯ll be able to convince her to leave.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± she said, and now the gears in her head were turning. ¡°Yeah, maybe I can.¡±

    If she found Melantha again, then she could find out if Melantha was an enemy, or if she was misguided. She¡¯d never been evil, and Celvene doubted she¡¯d had a drastic change of heart in the years they hadn¡¯t seen each other. Either she¡¯d find out that Melantha didn¡¯t want to be saved, or she could help her leave.

    And either way, Celvene could put her mind to ease¡ªit had been a raging tempest that didn¡¯t want to calm ever since she¡¯d run into Melantha.

 XII | Aleksandr the Great

    THE HORRORS OF THE LOOMING WAR hadn¡¯t breached the inner circles of Aizasea yet, where Celvene spent almost all her time when she was in the city. She¡¯d heard of the ravenous famine and widespread destruction that had wreaked havoc on the far outskirts of Aizasea, where she never ventured, through newspapers and rumors in taverns. It hurt her heart to see others suffer so deeply because of one man¡¯s rage, but she truthfully felt lucky she¡¯d remained unaffected¡ªfor now.

    Celvene now saw the pointed black tips of the towers peeking above the rows of brick buildings and houses. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized she likely wouldn¡¯t be recognized, especially with her cloth mask snug against her face. She¡¯d almost made it to the castle¡¯s front gate, so even if someone did notice her now, she could run to the guards. She just had to hope they wouldn¡¯t turn a blind eye to her.

    She yanked her hood further over her head, brushing a few strands of her hair to the side as she bit her lip. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach as they approached the castle. In front of it was a small merchant¡¯s circle, each stall covered with various items, from weapons to fresh meat.

    A short woman with pasty skin and a brown bob cut was holding up a crumpled white newspaper, cupping a hand over her mouth as she yelled, ¡°New ruler of Aizasea found, but she¡¯s a woman! What does this mean for our lands? Should she be allowed to become queen?¡±

    ¡°Ignore her, love,¡± Khamisi said upon seeing Celvene roll her eyes, giving her a light pat on the back. He tipped his hat up, casting a knowing glance behind him. ¡°She¡¯s trying to rack up sales for her paper. But it''s not working,¡± he called out over his shoulder. The woman met his gaze, scowling as she increased the volume of her fervent shouts.

    But a moment later, a cry, the splashing of water, and the rumbling of hooves made Celvene turn back around. When her eyes settled on what had happened, the woman had fallen into a muddy puddle, her papers flying into the air. A horse-drawn carriage ignored her as it galloped into the distance. The woman shook the mud off with a grimace.

    Khamisi¡¯s hand tightened around her shoulder, but she ripped herself away from him, approaching the woman. Sure, she¡¯d tried to sell her papers with a headline degrading Celvene, but Celvene hoped it was just a cheap tactic to boost her sales. Times were hard, and sometimes, drastic measures had to be taken just to survive. Maybe others wouldn¡¯t find exaggerating the truth in a newspaper headline as drastic, but Celvene knew every citizen hid behind a thin veil of confidence so they wouldn¡¯t break down crying when they didn¡¯t make enough money in a day for a hot dinner.

    And regardless, the woman needed help.

    She bent down and gathered the dirtied papers in her hands, shaking off the mud as best she could. They were undoubtedly ruined. Judging by the woman¡¯s lack of sales, she wasn¡¯t going to be able to afford to print new ones.

    Holding the papers in one hand, she stood and offered her other hand to the elf. She turned her head away from the woman as she took Celvene¡¯s outstretched hand and pulled herself to her feet; perhaps it would help her reputation to show she had good character, but some people would assume Celvene only helped to boost her reputation and image as a prospective queen. And that was not the reason Celvene helped her.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the woman murmured, eyeing the ruined papers. Celvene could¡¯ve sworn tears lined her small eyes. Her voice wavered as she said, ¡°The elite never look where they¡¯re going. They ruin everything. Their damn heaps of Nusmi must be clogging their ears so they can¡¯t hear, either.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Celvene. She cast a quick illusion spell, and when the blue magic washed over the woman, the mud caked over her body vanished, as did the slop covering the papers. ¡°Keep an eye out for any more unwieldy carriages. I¡¯ve heard horses are hard to tame.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try my best,¡± the woman said. ¡°I¡¯d¡­ I¡¯d pay you, but I¡¯m a bit light in the pockets right now. I can pay you with a feature in my paper. It will help you get a better job, or a promotion, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re after. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Celvene bit back a sigh, weighing her options. She could refuse and protect her peace, but be seen as rude in a special way, or she could accept and embarrass the woman. But maybe embarrassment was exactly what she needed to become a more respectable reporter, regardless of how tough it was to make sales right now. In Celvene¡¯s opinion, honesty was a far more respectable means of making money than lying and exaggerating to create a head-turner.

    Against her better judgment, she replied, ¡°My name is Celvene.¡± Without waiting to see the woman¡¯s response, she bound away, falling into step with Khamisi once again.

    ¡°That was nice of you,¡± he said, keeping his head forward. The castle was near. With a chuckle, Khamisi continued, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have done that. She deserved what she got for spreading such a nasty headline.¡±

    ¡°I would rather not forge my throne on actions akin to Aleksandr¡¯s. Kindness goes a long way.¡±

    Khamisi hesitated. ¡°And if he denies you? He doesn¡¯t seem very¡­¡±

    ¡°To deny my claim to the throne is to defy the very essence of this kingdom¡¯s magic. Let him try. Fate will find a way.¡±

    Kirioni¡¯i nodded but stayed silent. Celvene shoved her hands into her pockets as they approached the drawbridge to Virion¡¯s castle. It was a building of sharp edges and jagged spikes, obsidian gleaming in the gray moonlight. A small, winding river rested below the drawbridge, extending out to the rear of the castle. The towers were armed with marksmen surveying the streets. Celvene imagined they¡¯d positioned extra security after a lackluster performance caused the king¡¯s death. But now, they didn¡¯t have anyone to protect.

    Even though the castle was right near the sea, hot, humid air swirled around her, an uncomfortable contrast from the rest of the city. She imagined it was to keep the king and his staff comfortable in a city that could freeze over with ease, though Celvene was unsure why he couldn¡¯t have extended that courtesy to the rest of the citizens. In comparison to keeping a spell going permanently, blanketing a wide radius would be a breeze.

    They crossed the drawbridge, Celvene¡¯s shoes clicking in a gentle ballad of patters against the smooth obsidian. Two guards were stationed out front, brandishing large spears with helmets sitting atop their heads. They glanced at Celvene and Khamisi before looking at each other.

    After a moment, one of them cleared her throat. ¡°What business?¡± she asked, her armor clanking against itself as she shifted from one foot to the other.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to see Aleksandr,¡± Celvene said dryly. She was surprised the king¡¯s army didn¡¯t recognize the heiress to the throne, even if she was concealing her identity, but she preferred it to be that way. The fewer people who knew who she was, the better, for now.

    ¡°And who might you be?¡± The other guard tightened his grip on his weapon as his masked gaze penetrated through Celvene. ¡°We¡¯re not letting anyone into Virion¡¯s castle. He was assassinated. Security has been on high alert ever since.¡±

    Celvene fought the urge to roll her eyes as she looked skywards, the tips of her eyelashes brushing her skin. She pulled her mask down, a tight scowl etched onto her features. ¡°I¡¯m aware he passed. I¡¯m the one who wielded his sword in the ceremony to replace him.¡±

    The male guard squinted, as if studying Celvene¡¯s bare face. He tilted his head, a twinkle of recognition in his eyes, but he still said, ¡°Well, I¡¯ll need to perform a decloaking spell on you. You know, to make sure you aren¡¯t an impostor, sic?¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Celvene fought off a defiant grumble. He took his time drawing the rune. As his fingers glided through the air, the rune solidified and shifted to a pale blue before he cast the spell. The magic formed into a blue wave and passed over Celvene, who did nothing but shiver as a cold draft followed the magic.

    ¡°Is that enough proof for you?¡± she asked.

    The guard¡¯s eyes widened, like he hadn¡¯t expected Celvene to be real, before he almost dropped his weapon in shock, gulping. ¡°Oh! Of course, of course. My bad. My bad, my lady.¡± He dropped into a low bow before hitting a lever on the wall. The spikes blocking them from entering the castle groaned as it shifted upwards and disappeared.

    Celvene raised an eyebrow as she walked through the entrance, Khamisi right behind her. I thought no one here was receptive to a female leader.

    More guards decorated in heavy silver armor were strewn about, marching back and forth with the tips of their weapons pointed towards the ceiling. None of them spared Celvene attention. She felt small strolling through such an enormous castle¡ªthe ceiling touched the sky. The stained glass roof bathed the castle¡¯s interior in rays of varying blues and golds.

    Columns lined the interior, the black obsidian shining in the low light. A chandelier hung above them, glittering yellow and white as each crystal twinkled. Small braziers lined the velveted carpet leading up to the king¡¯s throne, crackling low in the quiet hall. Tapestries swayed as Celvene passed them, the soft fabric knit to show all the past heroes of Fellstride posing in different positions of glory.

    As they approached the throne, Celvene saw the man lying in the velveted seat. His long legs were draped over the side of the obsidian armrest, and he stretched his arms into the air. His shoulder-length gray hair was stringy, flopping behind his neck in messy waves. Seeming to hear Celvene and Khamisi, he angled his head towards them. His piercing eyes met Celvene¡¯s, and crinkled with disdain in an instant.

    Aleksandr.

    A dangerous smirk played on Aleksandr¡¯s lips, the contempt alight in his vermillion eyes contrasting his smile. The color of his eyes reminded Celvene of spilled wine, with the overbearing sugary scent of moon apples lingering in the air. Aleksandr¡¯s lips, although stretched in a smile, were mirthless and flat, and Celvene met his grin with a frown of her own. He held Celvene¡¯s gaze, as if testing her patience. She curled her hand into a fist, determined to not give into his games.

    ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Virac? Have you finally decided to attend to your new duties?¡± Aleksandr asked, voice sickly sweet. His gaze flicked to Khamisi, and his head tilted. ¡°And who is your friend? I wasn¡¯t aware the castle was accepting more unwarranted visitors.¡±

    Celvene raised her chin, narrowing her eyes. She ignored his second question; she wasn¡¯t going to drag Khamisi into this. ¡°Tending to duties is putting it strongly. I¡¯m not giving up on becoming queen so easily.¡±

    ¡°You? Queen?¡± Aleksandr breathed out a chuckle. ¡°No. Allowing you to become a servant is more than enough.¡±

    ¡°And what right do you have to the throne? Nothing stronger than mine.¡±

    ¡°My right is that I am next-in-line. Virion trusted me as his general, and he had no family to pass the crown to. I am this kingdom¡¯s most intellectual mind, and I intend to put that to use as king.¡±

    ¡°As a past colonel, I met with various military commanders and generals from around Fellstride,¡± Kirioi¡¯i said from beside her. ¡°I never met you. When were you promoted from a soldier to general? No man rises the ranks that quickly.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I have my ways. Tell me, is it true Khezzintis¡¯s army was so weak that it was brought down with one demigod¡¯s hammer?¡±

    Khamisi bristled. ¡°Of course not. If you¡¯re implying we were weak, we were anything but. Our forces stood down for the safety of civilians. But it was an honor and a privilege to serve my city.¡±

    ¡°And were you that thrilled when you were forced to enlist in the army after your fourteenth birthday?¡±

    ¡°Well, no, b¡ª¡±

    ¡°Anyways, Celvene,¡± said Aleksandr, swiveling his gaze to meet Celvene¡¯s. ¡°You have no qualifications to become queen. What exactly is your job?¡±

    She pursed her lips before tightening them into a thin line. Aleksandr would laugh at her, but there was no point in lying. The castle had records of everything. ¡°I¡¯m a circus performer. In Painted Sky.¡±

    She failed to mention that she wasn¡¯t a circus performer, per se, even if that was what she called herself. She was rubbish at everything¡ªrunning the gambling lines, playing musical instruments, and more¡ªbut Korvin hadn¡¯t cared. Many in Aizasea considered Celvene to be exotic¡ªwith her eyes, people thought she was unique, and that meant people paid good money to see the pretty face wave a baton. When not exciting the crowd to bet on how high the trapezist could make it, she¡¯d often been thrust into the ring to show off her magic, and by extent, her face. It was an easy way to make Korvin money. But her heart had never been in it.

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Aleksandr said, chuckling. ¡°A circus performer? We do not need a clown leading this city. This is a time for ruthlessness. A strong fist. Someone who will bring this kingdom Noriya¡¯s heart.¡±

    She fought back a bark of laughter; Aleksandr was a clown himself. ¡°My background grants me a skill set I¡¯m certain you don¡¯t have. I know seven domains of magic, I can fight a ursen bear with nothing but my hands, and I can naturally move like I¡¯ve been hit with an acrobatics potion. To add, I know plenty of people who would put you to shame in combat with no experience, general. I¡¯d adapt to any position in this castle with ease.¡±

    She was lying, of course, but Aleksandr didn¡¯t know that. She¡¯d ripped the abilities of her coworkers into the circus and claimed them as her own. Aleksandr didn¡¯t know what she was capable of, and Celvene doubted he¡¯d be itching to check if she could fight a bear with no weapons. And the warier she could make him, the easier it would be to get a leg up.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure your trapesing would terrify an enemy on the battlefield.¡± Aleksandr was silent for a moment before raising his hand and leaning against his palm. ¡°I won¡¯t give up on you just yet, little doll. Why don¡¯t you go meet Tycho? He¡¯s the head of services. I¡¯m sure you two will get along swimmingly, if you spare him your inane nonsense.¡± Aleksandr¡¯s eyes flicked to Khamisi. ¡°Oh, and you? Leave. You were not granted permission to enter this castle.¡±

    Khamisi glared at Aleksandr, but he said nothing. Celvene didn¡¯t blame him. She didn¡¯t know what games he would pull if Khamisi, a complete nobody, continued to question his authority. And it was Celvene¡¯s place to¡ªshe was the one with the crown at risk, after all.

    ¡°What are you waiting for, boy?¡± Aleksandr rolled his eyes. ¡°Leave, or a guard will escort you out. They are not as kind as I am.¡±

    Khamisi opened his mouth to protest, but Celvene bumped him with her shoulder, and he shut his lips. It wasn¡¯t worth arguing with Aleksandr, and she didn¡¯t want Khamisi to risk getting in trouble. The boy turned and walked away without a word.

    Celvene went to follow, but Aleksandr clicked his tongue, and she glanced over her shoulder. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to be a servant of this castle, and by extension, of these lands, you will need to learn how to respect your superiors. That includes your king,¡± Aleksandr said. A smile tilted his lips. ¡°Kneel.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Have you dirt in your ears? Kneel.¡±

    ¡°I will not kneel. You are not my king,¡± snarled Celvene.

    ¡°If you want to stay in this castle and not be thrown into the dungeon, you will do as I say. Otherwise,¡± Aleksandr gestured to a guard, who raised his weapon, ¡°you will find our cells are quite cold and wet.¡±

    Celvene¡¯s scowl jumped from Aleksandr, to the guard, back to Aleksandr. It darkened into a lour, but she forced out a simple, ¡°Fine.¡± And with that, she lowered herself to the ground, dipping her head. Her cheeks burned, and she curled her hands into fists, but she remained still for a few beats before standing.

    Behind her, she could hear a muffled gasp. Khamisi¡¯s footsteps had stopped a moment prior, but Celvene had assumed he¡¯d already left. For him, along with the people Celvene needed to convince of her worthiness, to witness this embarrassment was pathetic. If she wasn¡¯t already kneeling, there was a chance she would have collapsed into a ball to avoid looking at anyone.

    Aleksandr was clearly making it his goal to embarrass Celvene. Perhaps he thought if he was successful, she would leave. But she wasn¡¯t going to give up so easily, and he would learn that soon enough.

    ¡°Good.¡± Aleksandr smiled. ¡°You¡¯re capable of listening. I suppose it just takes some¡­ persuasion. Go. You¡¯ll find Tycho on the second floor, near the staircase,¡± said Aleksandr, waving her off. Satisfaction was palpable in his honeyed voice. ¡°I have important matters to attend to as king.¡±

    Celvene almost snapped back an insult about him not being king¡ªnot now, and not in the future¡ªbut she decided silence was the smarter choice. Without another word, she walked out of the throne room, crossing her arms.