Chapter 24

Eager, he offers his forearm, palm exposed. Accepting, I rest my entire forearm on his and our palms meet. He guides us towards the middle of the dance floor and the long, gilt, roundish ends of the dress follow after me. I can hear the faint, scraping sounds of the gilded feathers stroking the mosaic floor. By the time we reach the epicentre of the dance floor, everyone else seems to fall away, receding to the margins like we're professional performers about to dazzle them with a spectacle.

Shortly, every pair or pairs of eyes is on us.

"Well... this is intense."

I look past his shoulder, careful not to make direct eye contact as my gaze flits through the crowd of blurry faces.

"They are enthralled by you. And I cannot blame them."

The dance begins, and we make a transition to a closed position. Solaris places his hand on the small of my back. He takes my hand with my flourish it lands on his shoulder. Now that Solaris is facing me while I face the one side; we both do a turn with forwarding steps, stepping with the same foot at the same time.

The turn begins with a small step, springing onto the outside foot and lifting the inside foot forward. On the second beat, there is a longer step, I poise myself for a jump. I spring up into the air, Solaris's steady hands keep me elevated. He lets me back down on the last beat of the measure. And we make a three-quarter turn during each.

"For someone is not fond of dancing, you are a quite graceful at it."

With one arm lodged behind our backs. Our opposite hands meet, flattened against the other. We bow to each other, mirroring each other's circling motions before he twirls me around, our entwined hands raised above my head.

"This might surprise you, but we common folk do dance."

"What?" Solaris breathes, feigning shock. "I thought all your time was consumed by menial labour."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"But I have managed to distract you from the multitude staring at us."

My face deadpans. "Thank you for the reminder."

"Sarcasm," he points out victoriously.

Our movements are so harmonious. The air is filled with the enchanting melodies of lutes and harps. The music weaves through the night like a silken thread, guiding our dance with its tender, lilting notes.

"You said you knew Domus Valwa well?"

"I thought I did," he corrected.

"What made you think he was a good man?"

"Domus Valwa is among the rare few of The Decuria who meticulously tends to his province, providing villages with extra provisions during the frost season or dry spells. His sagacity serves the High King well, acting as his unofficial advisor. I once regarded him as an honorable man, but after what you have revealed, how can such a man be deemed worthy of praise? No one who forsakes his blood deserves admiration."

I nod fervently.

"Why do you ask?"

"I felt I should," I say admittedly. "I made a bargain with a man I could not vett and have no surety he won't go back on his word."

"His word is true," he reassures with a gentle smile.

I wait a moment before I ask. "You're not curious about the deal?"

"Do you want me to be?" He shakes his head with a decided mind. "That deal is your business. And I have my own, my own secrets, my own ambitions and my own desires."

"I'm going to need you to not say such things whilst looking at me directly in my eyes with those ocean blue gems."

He breaks into a laugh that he struggles to rein in. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I think you've just impregnated me with just that single look."

Solaris's forehead drops on my shoulder, hiding his face, tantalised by the vibrations of his restrained laughter. I swallow my smile before I lower my face and whisper into his ear.

"We are still being watched; in case you've forgotten."

"You certainly made me forget," he whispers back. He straightens back up with a loosely held smile. "Twirl?"

"Impress me."

So he pulls me in and lifts me off the ground as he spins me around with a gilded wave lacing around us before he unravels me. The dance concludes with a bow, and the spectators burst into a round of applause.

My eyes lock on my target. Before I make my move, I make a beeline towards one of the servants, scooping up a glass of the swamp green concoction. I drift towards the swarm buzzing around the male with the sprawling antlers. On approach, he sees me and lifts his glass in my direction. His entourage parts away for me so that I can stand before him.

"You must be... the lost heir, Hera Aurora," he says, his speech slightly askew. "Wonderful dancer you are."

I bow my head back at him gratefully. "Thank you, and please, call me Aurora. And you must be... Green Earl, Moray?"

His four eyes blink down at me with sheer surprise. "Gorgeous and clever... how dangerous."

I push out a giggle, taking a ladylike sip of the wine. Once I do, I almost spit it back out again. The worst thing I have ever tasted, bitter and heavy with resin. I have had medicinal elixirs with a far more appetising taste than this.

Earl Moray slants towards me, then moves the glass beside his mouth like he's going to whisper a secret. "That was my reaction as well. Regardless, I gulped down eight... or... nine glasses of it."

Already? My head bobs. "The Regulus has... an acquired taste."

"In the Citadel, celebrations with wine are far too scarce. Almost once a cycle, perhaps two, if we're fortunate. The sole supplier only stocks the palace with this—" he holds up the glass and glares at it with long-simmering resentment, "—distilled disaster."

I smirk internally. I can use this.

"I hear that the other Green Earls have traded their earth globs, specifically to Regnum Cypress, and I'm sure in turn they satisfy them with an exchange of their choosing. Who's to say that you cannot do the same?"

He gesticulates with the glass in his hand, moving it in wobbling zigzags. "Because I have yet to find a worthy supplier of note. The Regulus tolerates outside trade, but he is not fond of it. Whoever I trade with must be worth risking his ire."

My smile grows. "Green Earl, my, uh, I know an associate. A merchant, who has access to various lucrative holdings across Urium. A way for you to experience the realm from your residence."

He takes a stumbling step towards me, and a lopsided grin teeters on his lips. "Now that is an eligibility of note. Tomorrow, at the noontide. After I have recuperated from the aftermath of my excessive drinking, that I shall surely suffer. I will send for you; I have chambers booked in the palace so we can... negotiate future endeavours, then."

I nod back at him. "May it be a bright and long future."

"Tum eras le nevel la no darsolar. Reglus Havalem!"

I whirl around to watch the dancing throng scurry to the sides to join the once clustered crowd, now lined neatly on the flanks of the dance floor. The Regulus emerges, and he makes his way down with a long and powerful stride. An elaborate wooden crown ornaments his head, with tall bristle peaks curved backwards in a halved cylindrical shape. Two slender wooden points that run down his temples to carve around his jaw. His shimmering sheet of hair nearly reaches his hipline.

The Regine follows, cleansed by a new pious white grown with an intricate veil to match, but the headpiece is different. A miniature crown crests the round ball of elaborate braids bound together. The crown looks like wrought lace, white and elegant. Followed by their three daughters, Cassia walks a step ahead in the middle of her other two sisters. Flanked by the same bestial, hellbound guards that we saw the first time we arrived.

My eyes pursue them until they make their way to the staircase.

The ash-grey guards with iron skull masks position themselves at the foot of the staircase.

The Regulus climbs up to his throne, enveloped in regal forest-green garbs embossed with sterling silver designs. He seats himself on the throne and the Regine settles herself on his lap. He moves to secure an arm around her. And their daughters naturally line themselves beside the throne on their right side.

Altogether, a vision of grace.

"Where are my honoured guests, the pureblood descendants of the Decuria?" His voice is unlike the Regine, that is aloof and cold. The bass of voice has a warmth to it, like how a father speaks to his son.

One by one, we all filter from the two grouped masses, and even Duce Merian slinks out. Shortly, we all stand in a horizontal line before the staircase with Duce Merian at our rear. He observes us from his throne with a lordy gaze.

"I apologise for the delay. Dark times are upon us," he says, sorrow hollows out his tone. "I never comprehended the severity of a problem that sprung up overnight. The people are calling it; The Black Death."

Indistinct muttering surges through the crowd behind us.

"An agricultural plague that blights all crops. One done from dark magic that rots the soils and turns everything it produces, globbery and black. The way it spreads, and the grotesque results are the malefic tributes of potent malignancy. One that can only be done by the Ulris."

The mutterings intensify, fracturing the atmosphere with dread-filled clamours.

"My cherished people," he declares. "I will not deceive you. The Ulris have been silent for too long, dormant whilst they engineer our ruin. If they cripple the realm's food security, they can bring Urium to its knees, and that is not even the beginning."

Tension suffocates the throne room like tight fingers bound around one's throat.

"No one knows of the Ulris's schemes, but the Vanguard armies have already been spread too far thin across Urium; quelling rebellions incited by terror factions that lit the match of dissension. If this endures, Urium will not only fall, but it will also be irreversibly destroyed."

My finger brushes against the stem of the glass anxiously.

"The role of High King is a difficult one. If he thwarts one power, he might embolden another, if he slays one faction, he could create martyrs. But if he sides with one denomination of people, he risks appearing prejudicial."

The Regulus drums his fingers on the arm of the throne thoughtfully.

"His tentativeness to take firm action against those who only wish to spill blood has caused the instability of Urium, dithering about possible and unknown outcomes. The realm is in need of a leader whose decisiveness is matched only by their compassion, as if they carry a heart of glass—firm yet fragile, capable of both strength and empathy."

His eyes wander amid us nine.

"I only accepted High King Urus's appeal, to have this be one of the locations of his little realm tour, only so you could heed to my words. One of you, the future ruler. This is more than just the insurrection of those who conspire sedition, who want to topple the monarchy by causing this strife." His face grows grim. "This is more than just rattling the line of succession. This is about the dark forces that shall wreak devastation that will surpass that of the Great Realm War. Urium does not need another puppet King. It needs a unifier, a fighter. And for the sake of our realm, I pray that it is one of you."

He leans back into his seat.

"May only the worthy rule."

***

The following day, I rise before dawn. I plan to get a few hours of training done before the sun ascends, and with it, life amongst the Terra. Plus, I have a business arrangement with Green Earl Moray after he... recuperates.

Cassia delivered on my requests. Thick white wraps are bandaged around my forearms and knuckles. The place of training I chose is high up on the platform of the wooden spire, raised so high I feel untouchable. It's so early that even the sun still slumbers. The sky is a gentle midnight blue, a dye blend between that and a dark amethyst above the horizon. Pinpricks of morning stars gleam awake. Encroaching shadows still creep, darkness blankets the celestial forest. Disturbed by the strings of fairy lights in the trees and standing lamp posts spaced in intervals amidst the bridges.

The muscles in my arms and legs ripple beneath taut skin as I execute a series of intricate forms, my body a study in controlled power. I practiced with a pair of slender swords, their blades catching the sunlight and gleaming like liquid silver. My footwork is agile and sure, allowing me to pivot and strike with lightning speed, each movement executed with a fierce intensity that spoke of years of discipline.

Occasionally, I pause, my chest rising and falling with exertion, as I assessed my form and technique, ruminating on Primus Kelan's corrections. Despite the sweat streaming from my brow, I remained focused and determined, my gaze fixed on some distant point, envisioning an opponent. I hold the form. In the meantime, my mind relives the celebration, recalling the Regulus's words... his warning, the constant warning.

The Ulris's involvement. The attack by the Vulkra. A cataclysmic event looms on the horizon, its impending arrival poised to shake the very foundations of our world. The Ulris have been silent since the Last Age; they disappeared to their many hellscapes that can be only accessed by portals that require a mega-ton of energy. But now, with merely one utterance of their return, destruction already spreads.

The Ulris are powerful beings not easily slain. Which is how their aid ensured the defeat of their enemies by unlocking the dark forces of the Convergence, uniting the dimensions of their hellscapes. And drawing unimaginable power from each simultaneously.

The Vulkra possess such power yet when we were attacked. The Avangard soldiers defeated them easily. Avangard soldiers are equipped with special weapons, their blades grafted with Alrosia fibres to wound such beings, but it cannot slay them the way they did.

I slide into the next stance. My foot is pointed straight ahead with the lead leg bent at a ninety-degree angle. My trailing foot is angled outward with the heel lined up with the heel of the leading foot. My head whips to the side—intermittent wooden creaks—someone is ascending the staircase, but the footsteps are far too heavy to be Cassia. Pummelled by torrents of frame-wracking energy—my breaths run quick—rushing waves threaten to overwhelm me.

I straighten, falling out of form. I spin around to watch a great shadow skulk from the darkness. A towering figure arises and steps into the exposure of light, but still manages to be a part of the darkness.

"Primus Kelan," I murmur.