Chapter 19

A day has gone by since High King Urus announced his mandate for The Vasilias Imperii. And that we are to set sail two days from now. A banquet overcast by the tormented souls of the sons of Allahad. A piece of me understands his verdict but a larger part of me denies such logic.

In the meantime, I spend most of it in my bedchambers, sometimes secluded with Deidre or wholly alone. In solitude, I find peace. Anywhere else, I feel overwrought or riddled with unease. I'm also avoiding the other candidates that I will be forced to travel with. How I treasure the last few moments of seclusion I am gifted before that same gift is torn from my grasp.

For the past few hours, I have laid sprawled on a furry blanket draped over the divan in the lounge part of the room, reading through the selection from my Regnum's library. The one I have delved into now is a history book about the original twelve tribes of Urium that bore the diverse peoples of the nine kingdoms. I figured I would get a head start and learn about the native clans and settlements that we will be travelling to.

After a while, my studies are interrupted by timid knocking.

My eyes lift from the book with metal rivets that decorate its corners. "Enter," I say reluctantly.

The convoluted door sweeps aside, and a mouse of a servant skitters inside. She holds a silver platter with both hands, walking to me with haste, her face to the ground. I close the book, moving to sit upright.

"Hera, a bloodhawk just flew in from Armathis. The letter is addressed to you."

Armathis, the Prime province. My home.

The handmaiden lowers herself and raises the platter above her head.

My heart vibrates, thumping with joy like a melody that thrums within. I nearly dance to the tune of euphoria. I look down and stare at the cream-white letter, faintly crinkled, but it bears the stately blue seal of my Regnum. I pick it up and gently crack it open. The seal splits and I unravel the folded parchment.

Amarul 1111

Dear Daughter,

I am not certain when or if you will receive this letter. The mandate of The Vasilias Imperii has been kept secret from both the High Tribunal and the Decuria. We know not the rules or its statutes. But I know of the dangers, recall my words and heed my counsel.

Hide your strengths and alleviate your weaknesses.

Let them underestimate you so that only in The Imperii, will they come to regret it.

Even though she will not admit it. Your mother misses you dearly, I have caught her shedding a tear or two. And Seliah seems to have lost her way without you. I also want to thank you for the silver articles that you so thoughtfully purchased. So many that they can replace our primary crockery. I have made sure that the silversmith is given what he is owed.

Many good fortunes to you and may the grace of the Almighty favour you.

With all my heart and love,

Father.

A wet splosh dampens a spot on the parchment. I have not cried in so long that I almost forgot the feeling. With a few quick swipes of my cheek, I wipe it dry. I must respond. Communication through bloodhawks is the fastest and the most gruesome. I admire the natural ability but the implication is less...appealing.

Bloodhawks have an extraordinary capability that has their talents serviced by Kings and Domuses alike. When it draws blood from a mortal, immortal, or metas; beings with enhanced abilities. And even a medeis; a being that wields magic. A bloodhawks can draw the blood of any, and with it, they can track down their furthest kin in the realm. It can only be used in particular circumstances like my own. All who are of my blood are at my Regnum, except for me. Which makes it easy for a bloodhawk to locate me and deliver the parchment that it was sent with.

"Shall I retrieve pen and ink for you, then lend you time to respond?"

I nod eagerly, unable to wipe the smile off my face. "Yes, please."

I didn't realise how suffocated I was until now. A burden that clogged up my airways, and a weight that sat heavily on my chest. It evaporates like morning mist. Now each inhalation is deep and serene. I stare after her thoughtlessly. She freezes suddenly, like an invisible hand has her in its grip. Since the door is open, a tall slab of byzantine, hiding whatever frightened her from me.

"Your Majesty," she blurts and dips into a quick curtsey, her head bowed.

I chuck the letter aside and blast to my feet. The High Queen strolls into my bedchamber, fingers entwined neatly on her stomach. Simply stunning in a vivacious yellow dress with the gleam of a melted sun, attached with a matching shoulder cape. The dress is embellished with crewel handwork, tiny chips of shimmering minerals embossed into the material.

"Leave us," she says. Her command shunts the little handmaiden out of the room, closing the door behind her carefully.

She stops and stands where the light from the expansive window bathes her in a golden glow. She wears gilded armlets that swirl around each limb elegantly.

"Your Majesty," I say, lowering myself in a show of deference.

"Arise."

I lengthen my spine.

The Queen glides to the lounge area and occupies an ochre single armchair. She seats herself on the edge, her presence loaning splendour. Her head is graced with a golden crown that rounds her head from the back. And at the front it elongates like two horns, parallel from each other, both with sharp points.

"Please, sit."

I nod, then glance back, settling myself on the divan.

"I grow weary of formalities. So, I will be brief and forthright to make sure that you understand my qualms."

I look back at her, and awe steals my breath. Her irises swirl with gold, vivid against her thunder sky skin, dark with its silver accents.

"I truly did not anticipate that a... female would be a candidate. Even if you were the eldest, I would have thought your father would have sent a younger man or even a boy in your stead."

I smile tightly. "Unfortunately, my half-sister and I are the only descendants of Regnum Valwa."

She nods sympathetically. She clears any residual emotion from her throat. "You must understand that the Trials will not only be a token of diplomacy. It will be punishing with even life-threatening challenges. Already you have a target on your person because you are a woman." She crosses her leg over the other. "The life of luxury you knew as Hera will be like tarnished silver. You will live and struggle as the lowborn do, at times, with no servants, no ready meals of choice food. Or even fine soaps to keep you clean. Not only that but the Trials will require you to brandish skills of war, one I am afraid not taught to women, especially not Heras."

I stifle a smirk, forcing a nod of shared concern.

"I know not of your character or the kind of Ruler you would become. But no one more than I wants to see a High Queen rise with the power of a High King. Nonetheless, you are not trained with the skills that the Herems have been taught. You are already at a deep disadvantage. Besides that, I fear for your safety, and the dangers that might come from foes seen and unseen."

I nod slowly. It's a gamble to share the truth; the full extent of my education. A gamble that I am not prepared to risk.

"My Queen, with your qualms raised. Are you suggesting that I forfeit because of the staggering odds that seek to obstruct me?"

Doubt flickers in her gaze like a waning flame. "The King Trials, both old and reinvented, were designed for males, and the skills that only they can master. My qualm is not about your eligibility, it is about your safety. Perils of the realm, the journey, and the Trials itself. You are ill-equipped against your greatest adversaries but none greater than those you contend with."

The other candidates.

Her chest deflates and with it the hope that departs with her breath. "As you are a Hera, a woman, you are not only the weakest, but the most vulnerable. Everything about the King Trials will be your undoing. Do you not see? There is no chance."

Very encouraging, Your Highness... oh ye of little faith.

I inhale a deep breath. "For the honour of my Regnum, I will take part as my King decreed. I will not shame my father nor my Regnum because I fear failure or risking my own life."

Unidentified motivation pours into me like the waters of the Cerulean.

"Fear is the enemy of greatness and a chance such as this cannot be easily won. I do this for more than myself. For as long as I have breath, I have the strength and the will to overcome. If I lose, let it not be because I am afraid to try."