Page 29 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

King Dolian would hunt for me—not because he cares about getting me back but because he would want to watch my demise as if it were a play made specifically for his enjoyment. He would expend every resource to find me, and good as I may be at masking myself, there are only so many places one can hide before they are found. I’d be recaptured and then forced to watch as he hurt others in my name. He had already done it so many times before. This is why you have your rules, I remind myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my nails dig into my palms. Never show weakness. Never deviate from a plan. Never let anyone get close. These rules, this order, keeps me grounded. Keeps me focused.

It’s a while later when the doors to the king’s chamber finally open, and the woman steps out. Hair disheveled, she avoids my eyes again as she passes me. Red marks the skin at her neck and cheek, peeking out ominously between the strands of hair that frame her face. She clears her throat and offers me a single dip of her chin, walking away with a slight limp. Help her. But I can’t. Not when the king could hear. Not when he would punish her all the more for it. When she disappears from view, I work my jaw in frustration, exhaling roughly.

So often, I’ve been forced to choose between what is objectively right and what I must do in order to keep the resistance alive. Having to choose the greater good time and time again has never felt great. But it is the burden I chose to bear when I decided that the king’s death was more beneficial than his life. The scars I’ve earned are different than the ones that have altered my flesh, but the sting of them is no less for it. A worthy cause, Grayson would sometimes say, when the weight of it all felt like too much to uphold. When the consequences of my choices would sometimes claim others. Like it did my mother. With Alexi. Sometimes, I wonder if the cause had ever been worthy or if I just believed that in order to justify what I knew I would have to do.

Do the benefits of a worthy cause matter when murder is the only way to achieve them?

Chapter Twenty: Xander

The second trial brings with it a cloudy sky and the scent of rain, though none has fallen yet. I stare down at the pit dug into the earth in front of me, located in the southern-most training field far from the noble eyes of the castle. Theo shifts on his feet where he stands next to me, Alden on his other side. Down a few yards, Jerrick, Commander Miles, Hudson, and the third recruit, Gavrel, stare our way.

“Hope you’ve taught your men to at least pretend to hold fealty,” Jerrick shouts through the howling wind. “Otherwise, this will be a rather fast trial.”

His candidates chuckle, the commander’s gaze sliding over me. I haven’t had many interactions with the man, though I know he has been a member of the King’s Guard nearly as long as I have. There has always been something about him that makes me feel as if I’m being watched, an unease that forces warning bells to peal in my mind.

I redirect my eyes to the men at my side, noting the empty sheathes they wear. A last minute missive had been sent out by Simon late the night prior: No weapons of any kind are to be brought to the trial.

“Are you ready?” I’d done my best to prepare them, but when I gave the king my latest update on the very little information I have managed to get from Bella so far, he decided that, as punishment, he would give me no hints about what to expect today. So I told them to expect battle, both physical and mental. The advice feels hollow now.

“As we’ll ever be,” Theo says, using a strip of fabric to tie his long onyx braids behind him.

I glance at Alden, the broad man’s glare set on the other candidates. “The king hasn’t arrived yet,” I muse, earning his glance. “You can still leave if you don’t—”

Alden huffs out a sound of annoyance, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “I understand the risks, wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I don’t care what vows he makes us take or what we might need to sacrifice in order to move forward. But I will do what it takes, and I will be one of the men closest to the king when he falls.” The overcast skies dim the hue of his already dark eyes, making them seem fathomless. I understand Alden’s urgency. His dedication to ending the king’s life. A muscle twitches at his jaw, molars grinding together. With a breath, he turns to look back at the other men vying for the same positions. “I will win, and together, we will usher in a new era.”

His affirmations should bolster me. After all, they’re everything I’ve silently said in my mind for more than a decade. But, instead, disquiet whispers over my shoulders. There’s no time to dwell on it, however, as King Dolian finally makes his entrance, striding onto the field with a hand in his pocket and Simon at his side. Behind him, a procession of King’s Guardsmen walk ten deep, a large chest held between four of them. Grayson is among them, and when his eyes find mine across the massive pit, the look of warning in them sends my hand to where my sword should be strapped at my hip—only to remember that I, too, was commanded to come weaponless.

“Gentlemen,” Simon shouts over the impending storm’s gale, his beady eyes dancing over all of us as he and the king come to a stop on the adjacent side of the pit. “Welcome to the second trial of the Trusted. Today, it will not only be our candidates that put their physical and mental valor to the test but our already established Trusted.” My heart batters my ribs as I stare at the king’s advisor. What the fuck were we going to be expected to do? “Only the strongest from among you will be chosen to protect the king. But you will be given every opportunity to prove that strength.” He gestures for the men holding the trunk to step forward, the metal hitting earth with a heavy thunk when they set it down.

It’s massive, almost double the length of a longsword and wide enough to fit shields inside. When they unlatch and open the lid, stepping back behind the king, I exhale roughly through my nose. The wind stirs my hair as I stare at the weapons piled high in the trunk. Swords and axes, curved sickles and broad shields are just what’s visible on top. It’s a godsdamn treasure trove of killing tools.

“While you battle each other in the pit, Xander and Jerrick will fight to get you the weapons you need. These”—he gestures to the trunk—“will only be available once Xander or Jerrick drop them down to you.”

The wind carries Jerrick’s chuckle to me, and I fight the urge to glare at him over my shoulder. I’ve fought him before and come out on top; it will not be difficult to do it again. I’m not uneasy about that but the fact that my team is down one man. I swallow and look at the hole in the ground, high walls only accessible by a rope ladder that is currently being rolled out. Its barren soil offers no protection or place to hide, and now their only weapons outside of their fists will be whatever I can provide for them. It’s a perfectly brutal test.

“You may enter,” Simon says, stepping back with King Dolian to make room for the recruits to access the ladder. Jerrick and his men pass us, sharp smiles carved on their faces as Commander Miles sends Alden a wink. The latter stares him down, moving to follow behind before I grab his shoulder.

“What weapon are you most proficient with?” I ask, meeting his eye as he turns his head.

“Any sword will do.” Shaking my hand off, he walks towards the ladder.

My attention moves to Theo. “And you?”

He purses his lips, tipping his head forward to keep his voice low. “I’m fine with most swords and heavier weapons, but close combat is my strength. I can move more efficiently with daggers in my hands.”

“Then it will be done,” I tell him, nodding. “Keep each other alive until I can get the weapons to you.”

With another dip of his chin, he follows Alden, and then the five recruits stand in the pit, spreading out enough that no man is at their backs. Simon guides Jerrick and I to opposite sides with instructions to not move until the king gives the signal. My muscles twitch beneath my clothing as I watch the man on the other side stretch his neck side to side, his lips curved upwards as his hands flex in anticipation. He’s a big bastard but can move fast enough if pushed, so I doubt I can get more than one weapon down into the pit before he’ll be at the trunk too. The idea of killing him briefly crosses my mind, but all it would do is give the opportunity for someone worse to fill the role. Jerrick is no friend, but he is an enemy I know.

“Gentlemen, the time has come to prove just how much this position means to you. The rules are simple; only three of you will be allowed to advance to the next round. Once two have yielded—by whatever means necessary—the trial will be over.” Simon looks to King Dolian, who has stood uncharacteristically quiet this entire time.

He peers down his nose into the pit at the men willing to shred each other apart in the name of keeping him safe. At least, that is what he believes. Raising an arm in the air, he draws in a deep breath just as the first drops of rain begin to blanket the ground. I press the toes of my boots into the dirt, leaning forward with my gaze locked on the trunk. The king’s arm swings down as he yells, “Begin!”

I take off running, droplets splashing against my cheeks and nose as I dart towards the weapons. I refrain from looking down at the pit or over at Jerrick, though the latter I can see just in my periphery. Pumping my arms at my sides, I round the curved edge of the pit, the gathered guards stepping forward as the king and Simon fall farther back. Odd. They can’t even see what is happening in the pit below. Jerrick runs towards me, his pace only a few steps slower than my own.

Only yards separate me from the trunk, but abruptly, the King’s Guardsmen split into two groups of five, each forming a barrier on either side of the trunk and blocking my view of Jerrick. What the fuck? Grayson faces me now, centered with two men on either side of him. Are we meant to fight through the guards to get to the weapons? As if he can see the question written on my face, he nods, and I grit my teeth, planning my next move. The guards take a defensive stance as I near but, thankfully, don’t reach for their swords. Pushing myself faster, I mentally throw Grayson a pre-emptive apology. He cocks his fist back as I charge towards him, but at the last second, I drop, sliding to the ground and kicking my foot out. It connects with the side of his knee, sending him crashing into the ground with a grunt. I glance at the guards facing Jerrick, noting they haven’t begun fighting him yet. My ears ring as I roll and leap to my feet, the trunk mere feet ahead of me. But before I can reach for the longsword laying on top, I’m yanked in the opposite direction by my arm.

Kicking backwards, my foot connects with an armored leg, sending the guard temporarily off balance. Spinning, I thrust my fist towards the man now standing at my right, his arm already cocked back in a swing. His nose crunches beneath my hand, his scream short-lived as I place another hit directly to his jaw before shoving his unconscious body into the guard waiting behind him.