Chapter 38

Primus Kelan and I take an imperial carriage to the city.

From there we travel on foot. Just him and I, at last.

"Tell me, how did you come to know of this...festival of lights?" I ask.

He and I wander through the alleyways. Gaggles of children swarm by, laughing, chasing one another.

"Before I was a Primus, a General, a Legatus," he begins solemnly. "I was a soldier like any other, and I have been posted at military compounds all through Urium, patrolling and dealing with border skirmishes. Many moons ago, I was stationed at a Vanguard outpost just east of Urla."

The currently vacant outpost.

"My squadron and I merely stumbled upon it on our way to an alehouse," he says. The edges of his face slightly softens at the recall. "After we drank, got into a tavern broil. Then they sought out female championship. I left and I found a garden bridge tucked away, with an outstanding view of the spectacle."

I follow him blindly, but my eyes are transfixed on him alone. Engrossed by his every word, enthralled by the mere sight of him.

"Hera."

I snap out of reverie, staring back at him questioningly. "What was that?"

He gestures to his neck, then points at mine. "That necklace you always wear; it must bear some significance to you?"

Perceptive.

We round a corner.

"It does, a member from my Regnum gifted it to me," I say whilst clutching it, fingers brushing against the gilt coat, drawing immediate solace. "His name is Burg. I miss them all so much. Every waking moment of my life I have been with them. When I left, I left behind a piece of myself."

I look back at him and he listens so attentively, like I'm giving a philosophical speech, staring at me deeply with silent intensity.

"Tell me about them," he says.

And I do. I tell him anything and everything. I tell him about mine and Seliah's joint education, just as unconventional as the Vasilias Imperii. I regale him of all my lessons with my masters, my sister and I's seepages to town fairs with Wren and his brother. And all the friends we have made, the skills and dialects we have learned from them alone. I even expound on how she and I survived the social seasons. A noteworthy feat. How my mother made them even more insufferable with her unremitting offers of viable marriage proposals. I tell him how my father insisted on teaching Seliah and I, educating us on our history, specifically the history of our foes.

He takes it all in, soaks everything up with soundless content. In the presence of others, my usual candour is restrained, conversations circling platitudes and cheap sycophancy. But with him, I cannot help myself. It all comes out in floods, rushes, and waves.

Not too long, I start to hear distant music playing, amplifying with each step we take.

"Since I am certain your ears must be bleeding," I say with a nervous laugh. "Share with me, how the great Primus Kelan came to be. What of your family?"

His gaze strays away from mine. "My squadron is my family."

A familiar line etches between his brows, stern and rumpled.

"No siblings?" I ask, proceeding with caution. "Or... your parents, are you not close with them?"

The line deepens. He crosses his arms, cords of muscles tensing. "My parents died when I was a child. Both perished before me. After, I was taken to a recruitment parish by a benign meta. Since I was a child, the military was and is all I know."

I glance down at his hand—large and strong. I long to comfort him, the way his mere breaths comfort me.

"My apologies," I whisper my condolences. Louder, I say, "Though, I am grateful..."

Without looking at me, he says, "For what?"

"Fate, since it decided to intertwine your path with mine."

He meets my gaze again, and it never wavers. My insides coil into innumerable knots. I tighten the silk shawl across my shoulders as if cold. Even though the night's air is warm. He says absolutely nothing—a tad bit disheartening. But there's something in his eyes that echoes a thousand untold words.

We appear at one of four focal alleyways that lead to the principal plaza. Above there is a canopy of stringed golden lights, geometrically patterned, that connect to all the standing lamp posts that encircle the interior. In the centre there is an Equestrian Sculpture–meant to convey supremacy and prestige. Around it is a rustic band of dishevelled and bedraggled musicians that play tambourines, flutes, drums, and stringed instruments that harmonise a joyful melody, accompanied by the rhythmic chanting of bass and alto singers.

The expanse teems with life, every being dancing and flailing about without a care. The jubilant scene is filled with dancers, drunkards, and performers. The cheerful music in a combination with the joyous singing, prancing beings, it is all too impossible to ignore. The inescapable euphoria that they all emulate as one, altogether happy and exuding elation.

It's all so contagious. And it seems I too am infected.

I swivel to face him. "Dance with me," I say, as more of a demand than a request.

He fixes his trademark stare on me, penetrating and unyielding. "I do not dance."

I allow the music to flow through me, loosening every muscle, strumming my inner cords.

"Wel...." Swaying my hips from side to side invitingly. Seducing his gaze to steal a glance or two. "I do."

Readily, I roll up the thin shawl like it's a scarf to remain safe around my neck.

I rotate and plunge into the pool of revelry, frolickers consume my vision. I burst into movement, prancing my way through changeable gaps. I twirl my skirt, my steps light in my sandals, surrendering to the beat. The sound of thrumming strings, the song of a mandore; a six-course gut string instrument pitched in the treble range. Through the people that flit through my sight like chaff in the wind. I look back at Primus Kelan from over my shoulder, pressing it against my cheek. His gaze is trained on me. He watches me from afar, the same way a disgruntled father watches his daft child.

I swap to look at him from my other side, and I wave him over with desperate flutters.

He shakes his head rigidly.

I shrug flippantly, temporarily joining a group of line dancers. I hook arms with a random reveller. And we skip around each other in a circle before I ensue to the next one in the line and we repeat the same motion.

On this day, this night is mine.

I break free—a wild burst of energy erupts within and I spin and spin, faster and faster, until everything around me is a blur. The skirt of my dress billows, lifting up to a pale blue whirlpool. I raise my hands above my head, my tresses fanning out around me. Suddenly there is a strong pressure on the small of my back—embraced by iron—I am whisked away.

"And here I thought... you could not dance," I say between heavy breaths.

"I said I do not." He interlocks my fingers with his and with his other hand. He pulls me by the waist, our bodies colliding. "I never said that I could not."

I cling to his gaze. "Then I hope you can keep up."

He draws us apart and with our interlocked hands; he raises it above my head, twirling me around, my supporting leg strong. Both legs rotate evenly in a high relevé, spinning me into a continuous pirouette. An unfettered and unrefined laugh escapes me. With one arm he hoists me up into the air, our other hands still entwined, spinning us together. My laughs only grow.

By the time my feet reunite with the ground. We move into a new position with our arms fully outstretched, but our fingers are still interlaced—fitting like puzzle pieces. We both step into the other's opposite foot and he slides my arm over his head, and we exchange stances. I am simply a petal and he is the wind that stirs me about. The tempo of the music quickens and the robust percussion of beating drums causes my blood to pound. Our pace accelerates as we merge into one rhythm, our heartbeats synchronising. At arm's length, our flattened hands are pressed against each other, circling one another, and soon we swap hands. Gasping for breaths, I still push on.

His very presence lends strength like nothing I have ever felt before.

And out of nowhere—he smiles—a breath catches in my throat. It splits his face like a grand opening. His face suffused with wonder. Out of all the sights I have seen in my life, none compare to what is before me. Nothing. No one.

Vince's smile may dazzle cosmically.

But his smile is the entire universe. The same way the night opens the heavens vault to release the shimmering stars. The phenomena that is his presence can only be measured by one infinity to another. I can sense every pore in my skin awaken, I'm aware of every breath, emotion, feeling every thrill, each sizzling sensation rebounding within me.

Primus Kelan draws me back to him, his one arm wrapped securely around my waist. My one hand rests on his Spartan shoulder, and the other is safe in his. My womb suddenly feels so small, tight, and compacted like it cannot contain my growing joy.

My unburdened self, free to let go...and let him.

On this day, this night, I am his.

Our speed dwindles to a calm waltz despite the madness that surges around us. My periphery blurs it all out. My ears mute the world and in this present moment, it is only him and I alone. So close. So bonded. Nothing else matters.

And now I know…

His gaze pours into mine and fills me whole, like the floodgates of impossible happiness. Our chests rising and falling in sync. His smile is mesmeric, hypnotic, incomprehensibly magnificent, with one pronounced line dimple in his one cheek when his smile is in full bloom as it is now. The vision of pure beauty only causes my euphoria to mount to unthinkable heights.

I hear new symphonies, but not from the music. My heart sings a melody unheeded, but I can feel every pulse, every strum of its delight. Our dancing slows and we just drift as if we are two asters floating in the sea of stars. Being in his arms, I feel the serenity of sitting on the ledge of my Regnum at night. Being in his arms, I feel the joy of walking beside Seliah through town. Being in his arms...feels like home.

"I am impressed... you dance well," I manage.

A lock of his Hades-black hair slips from the slicked-back style. It strings down his forehead, aligned with his temple, along with a few other wisps.

His grin tampers down to a humble smile. "With you," he says to conclude my statement. "With you it feels as if the limits of what is possible has been redefined. I do not think you comprehend how... incredible you truly are."

He thinks I'm incredible!

My heart aflutter, I try to restrain my own grin, but it overpowers my will. "You have certainly taken me by surprise, Primus. For the reason that when we first spoke. I received the distinct impression that you were not very fond of me."

He winces. My words struck his smile. His features solidify into that sombre look.

"A few cycles ago when I was tasked to train military plebes, orphans like myself. I never praised them once during their training," he says, and his gaze deviates from mine. He stares into the distance like he's watching a procession of memories. "Through their successes, I kept silent. There is no greater motivator than trying to prove those who underestimate you wrong. When I was hard on them, it was only because I knew that they could do better, be better. And to not settle for good when they could be great."

He looks back at me with a pointed smile—hot tingles swarm everywhere.

"I told you once that you should not be here, in the King Trials. And as expected, you proved to everyone that you should."

My brows quirk. "As expected?"

The arm secured around my waist moves and his hand starts from the small of my back—the tingles focus to where his hand is—it rises—bubbling and the tingles flurry out into a frenzy. My body surrenders to him, shuddering at his touch as his hand glides up my spine, inflating the electrifying prickles.

He leans infinitesimally closer until his forehead rests against my own. "I knew it from the moment I felt your daggers. And then I wondered. How long will it be until I feel other parts of you... all of you." His fingers caressing my bare skin.

My eyes flutter close. "Perhaps sooner than you think." Raw longing voicing itself, consumed by primal desire.

"Don't," he says tightly, his voice taut with restraint. "Do not tempt me."

"Why not?" I bite down on my lower lip, boundless yearning aching within.

"Because if you start something. I will not have the strength to stop," he whispers into our shared breaths.

"And what if I wouldn't want you to stop."

His eyes clench close, a muscle ticking in his jaw, regulating his rugged breathing.

He straightens slightly. "Adalia," he murmurs onto my forehead. He makes my name sound so extraordinary. "Come." His lips briefly brush against my skin—soft and warm.

I open my eyes. Despite the darkness of night. Somehow, the world around me seems brighter, the colours more vivid. He parts from me and with our interlocked hands; he leads me through the crowd as he navigates us safely through, directing me to a well-concealed vennel. No night lights there. Just a tall slender gap of black, wedged between the two structures.

We melt into the black.

"Where are we going, will we not see the lights?"

I look behind me, glancing at the glimmers of gold. The further we go, the more it shrinks. The roar of the revelry quietens. We emerge to a shadowy scene with silhouettes of trees, a dimmed botanical garden that surrounds a prominent bridge that arcs over it all. Most of the overpasses in Sorcia are mass bridges with flat wooden superstructures over stone piers or arches. But not this one.

"The lights that are to shine are not lights. They are called Souls," he says beside me. "It is to commemorate the fallen in the time of the scourge battles. It is why the Blood Games are so important to them."

This polished bridge made of flagstone is modest in size and has arches spanning across the garden laterally. Together we stroll on it, hand in hand. I can barely see our environment. Everything is so dark. I move to the centre and I place my folded arms on the verge of the stone ledge. I look to the naked starry skies. It baffles me how it appears so void but completely full at the same time. And yet I can relate to such a feeling. Unexplainable but all-consuming.

"Life can all look like this sometimes," Kelan says from my rear. "Dark and filled with despair."

On the starry horizon, blue lights begin to ascend. One after one, they all rise. Floating azure balls contracting and expanding, radiating a blue brilliance. All at once, everything around us illuminates and the trees bourgeon with a preternatural glow. The blue floras of the trees flourish with a lurid ruddiness, coming alive.

Kelan places his strong and sturdy hands on my waist and his arms tangle around my stomach, my back pressed against him. I rest the back of my head against his iron-bound chest. I place my hands on his forearms, holding onto him, holding me. Countless pulsing orbs, vibrating with an agglomeration of blue light like they are breathing. So many, they almost cover the celestial firmament.

"My life is that. Dark. But your presence brings light...hope," he murmurs.

Gradually, I rotate around so I'm still safe within his arms, my gaze lifting. Night embracing twilight. Flustered, my face sweltering hot, I look away, folding my lips inwards.

He gently guides my gaze back to me. "Don't hide your smile from me." His finger under the tip of my chin. "That would be like telling the sun not to shine."

I meet his gaze with newfound boldness.

"For all my life, I only know one thing. Duty. I live to serve my High King and my realm. That is where my allegiance lies," he says resolutely. And by the sound of his stridency, that is where it lies still. "I take orders and I give them out. A solitary life of a devoted soldier. Which is one I do not contest; I prefer solitude to the company of others. I have never needed nor wanted anyone." He lapses into a strained silence. "But the way I...ache for you. I cannot fathom. There is this quiet emptiness... inside of me, yawning and endless—" he fumbles over the words as if they are too agonising to utter, to admit.

I raise my hand, cupping his jaw—as sharp as a blade's edge, my thumb grazing the ridge of his mountain peak cheek bone, silky skin bench each soft stroke.

He closes his eyes. His basalt jaw strained. "—but simply looking at you fills it. A world of feelings that I can no longer deny."

A small snicker sneaks out from my lips. "I see why you were so abrasive with me at first. Why your impenetrable walls were so high up, for so long."

He reveals those stygian eyes to me. "That is because I, myself, do not comprehend the depth of my care for you," he says quickly. Something nameless flickers in his eyes. "And it evolves by day, every time you are near. And it intensifies when you are absent."

He glances down, evading my gaze.

My toes curl tightly.

"When you are near, I am aware of every breath you take. The wind in the trees whisper only one name. I have never spoken...never felt—"

I hush him by running my thumb across his perfectly pink plump lips, encouraging eye contact.

"I know." I take his one hand from me, placing it on my heart. It nearly takes up my entire chest. "I know because I too feel it, inexplicitly and overwhelmingly. And I too lack the will to fight it."

An upsurge of distant screams lances through the veil of serenity—his grip tightens on me.

My head whips in the vennel's direction.

"We need to go," we say simultaneously.

We trade looks, swivelling before dashing back to the plaza in a brisk jog.

He and I arrive back in a matter of moments, all to be blindsided by crimson fog. A blowing tempest of red smoke submerging everyone in a chaotic, vaporous haze. Whatever it is, it disturbs my respiratory system, triggering a series of coughs. I snatch a piece of the shawl on my shoulders, using it to cover my nose and mouth, hacking into it.

Kelan's hand latches onto me, bolting like locks. As one, we tread cautiously.

"What—" cough, "—is this?"

He takes a brief, thoughtful moment before he responds. "A terror faction." His voice is raspy like volcanic rocks rubbing together.

On cue, a longhorn sound swells, blaring, and it rips through the smoke-engrossed atmosphere. As if it was a banishing. The red smoke begins to thaw, receding like it is being vacuumed from all four corners of the plaza. Shortly, it vanishes as if it were never there to begin with, revealing what is to be true.

In the centre where the towering statue stands. Where the musicians were, now in their stead, is a pack of hostile-looking nomads. All of them wear stark warrior paint on their faces, multi-coloured between orange, blue, red, and yellow. Their heavy, rugged clothing is torn in multiple areas. All of them casually carry lethal weapons that I have never seen before that glow ominously. They appear to be military-grade, but how on Urium could they have possibly come into possession of them?

One of them scales the tall stone figure with natural agility, climbing up like an insect until he stands on the outstretched arm of the stone-carved being. High up in the air that gives him the ability to overlook us all. Some of his followers loiter at the base of the statue, but many of them saunter amid us menacingly, as if to convey that we have no choice but to listen to whatever he has to say.

"Have no fear," he bellows, gesticulating with gloved hands. "We are not your enemy, in fact, we wish to be your allies and you ours," he says in Torin.

But I can tell by Kelan's fermenting expression, he understands the tongue.

"It seems to safeguard our own future and those after us. We must do it ourselves because the Crown, the High Tribunal, or the Decuria will not do it for us as they should."

The silence amidst us is deafening. Suffocating like the smoke that once was.

"Do you know why? Because they are diseased with greed and selfishness. Do you think the High King cares for our shared plight?"

He pauses as if he awaits an answer, but we hear no sound other than his voice.

"Then why does the Crown not deal with the rising issue of the Black Death killing our crops? A plague that will undoubtedly cause a famine that this realm has never seen. A famine that will endanger our survival."

Dubious murmurs scatter amongst the crowd.

The leader nods his head encouragingly. "This was not a spontaneous occurrence; this dark magic was done by none other than the Ulris. They have returned. The most powerful beings in this realm, in all dimensions and hellscapes. The High King should be dedicated to this outer-realm threat."

The murmurings augment into loud mutterings.

"Instead, he has dispatched the Vanguard to the farthest corners of Urium to quell rebellions. Where he has wrought his tyranny upon peaceful civilisations. A wildfire has spread in the lands. The wish for sovereignty and that wish puts the High King's reign in jeopardy. He cares so much for his own interests of staying in power. He neglects the very same people he promised to protect so he can service his own agenda."

Mutterings transform into angered whoops of accord. His extremist view riling the masses.

"His only ambition should be to defend his people, not to crush those who only crave independence. One that every kingdom deserves to have. And the kingdom of Sorcia deserves it more than any other domain."

I take a moment to review the once festive throng that has become an irate mob.

"A peril looms over Urium. The Ulris. And the only way that they can be defeated as they once were, exiled to their vile hellscapes, is if we stand together united but in sovereignty."

The crowd booms with zealous support.

"The only way that Sorcia will rise to glory and Urium restored to greatness is if the High King falls, and its constitutions fall with it. Both the High Tribunal and the Decuria should be dissolved. The inhibitor that has stunted the growth of all kingdoms."

I wince at the sudden burst of ear-splitting cheers.

"With it destroyed, we can all elevate to power. Power with the people instead of with those who wish to wield it for their own self-serving aspirations. The blood of the High King shall flow to cleanse the land and salvage all people."

Kelan tugs at my elbow. "It is not safe for you to be here."

Promptly, I take my shawl, unfurling it, sheathing my head. I drape a sleeve of it across my face, holding it in position, concealing my nose and mouth. Still, I linger for a few heartbeats more.

"To herald in a new age of liberation and prosperity for all. We must first crush the old one. The dynastic lines of the kingdoms must end, and the new line of succession to replace the Dophan. It must not occur, all considerations, all candidates, their blood must be spilled to prevent the continuation of the Monarchy."

Kelan grips my elbow urgently. "Now."

He forces me to turn away, and his hand finds mine as he weaves us through the riot. He draws his hood back on. I throw a glance behind me.

"From the birthing pains of forging a new age. An age of freedom will be born. The Age of Dominion has begun!"

Bellows explode into ricocheting cheers.

Kelan and I hurry through one of the main alleyways.

"We need to head back," he says feverishly. His eyes darting everywhere. "I must warn the Xercra that a terror faction has intercepted his domain. And the fact the Capital is well-fortified. It must mean that a gauntlet of guards are compromised."

"Terror factions may be violent by nature. But they have done nothing wrong, legally, they have a right to express their opinions."

Kelan wheels on me, and his dark brows slam together. "Not if they are inspiring insurgents and endorsing sedition. Their opinions, as you so politely call it, is treason and it is punishable by death."

"That is because their opinions are not wrong," I say, equating his yell. "Why have Vanguard forces been sent to provinces that threaten his rule by rebelling against it? Simply because they wish to be self-determined. He should focus on the malevolent schemes of the Ulris and reversing this curse of the Black Death."

I brush past him. Walking ahead, he follows.

"Besides, their rallying crusade is penetrating more than just common folk but high-ranking officials. Their leader is too well spoken for a nomad. At the conclave gathering, a senator echoed the leader's sentiments. And quoted directly; an Age of Dominion."

He joins my side, exerting power without effort. "So they have infiltrated the conclave, the legislating government of Sorcia is compromised? They have radicals among them?"

I sigh at the term. "I suppose. These terror factions are not what we thought, they are not spreading terror by violence, they are inspiring an uprising by targeting the common folk. The mass population of Urium. And if they are fortunate, high ranks."

Kelan exhales heavily. "With the support of the commoners throughout Urium, and whatever they have amassed thus far. They can ignite a revolution and rise against the Crown."

"And with enough support," I say, "the Monarchy will fall."