The King Trials 2: Beyond.

It has been a week since our first encounter with the Adons, a week since Vince’s ill-tempered outburst. By law, it is an offense punishable by death to threaten a life of an Adon. But given that Vince is a foreign noble of high standing, it would cause an irreparable diplomatic incident, and that consequence would lead to a military confrontation between Emikrol and Nivalis.

That fact alone makes him immune to retribution.

Now we await the summoning from the military tribunal.

Since our advent, a flaying tempest on every scale of belligerence devastated the outside. But today, only today has the tempest ceased, hushed into stillness. Which is why I have taken the time to explore the walled courtyard gardens in my leisure with Vince, who is adamant to keep me company.

He and I stroll outside to the eastern botanical garden, an expansive plot with water basins, fountains and ponds. The section of hedge maze is fashioned in a curlicue pattern is adorned with glistening, fanged icicles. An elegant parterre which is sculpted lawn constructed on a level substrate, comprising of flowery plant beds, typically in proportioned shapes, which are separated and connected by tiled paths.

The ponds and fountains carved with spout stones with flairs of mosaic work. The baroque-style ornamental gardens, a plethora of shaped forms and patterned vegetation. But one thing is consistent. Everything is immaculate, their colours outshone, enveloped under a shroud of white. The blooms frozen and threads of snow line the bare, gnarly limbs of trees. Everything pure and shimmering.

Vince and I saunter between the paved paths. The silence makes me aware of every sense, the frigid winds that blow, needling the skin in my cheeks, the whistling sound it makes as it runs by. A sound that none can tell from where it comes nor where it goes.

I sneak a glance at Vince. Though he was determined to accompany me, he has not said a word. We haven’t been strolling for long, but a moment of silence with Vince is like an eternity. Unnatural. And it irritates me that it is beginning to bother me.

“What is it?” My words shatter the ice. “Where are you right now? What plagues you?”

He exhales calmly, puffing out a steamy plume. Attired in a crimson and black tunic with a cape of white that hangs from his shoulders. His face is barred with a severely sombre expression.

“I merely do not like the cold.”

I arch a brow at him. “Then why did you volunteer to join me on my walk?”

“Because I do not dislike you.” He meets my gaze fleetingly. “I never said I wanted to speak, but being in your presence dispels the melancholy I feel. I intend to exploit that feeling.”

My mind reflects on his outburst, at the nerve struck when Adon Bordamere shamed him by trying to defame his kin, dishonouring its entire legacy with his slurs of ignorance.

Treading lightly. As much as I can, I say, “Permit me to ask but is this about your family?”

He holds my gaze, his eyes a-glimmer with a torn look. One that I regrettably recognise.

The look dissolves, his melancholy fades, and he conjures an indulgent smile. “It is like only you can read the truth etched in my eyes.”

I offer him a faint smile. “Are you close with them?”

He shoots me with a penetrating look like I had crossed a line.

I quickly expound. “I only ask because when we were still in Sorcia and it was time for the recess interval. All the other Herems were visited by their loved ones, my sister came all the way from the Prime. But you were the only one without family.”

He dismisses me with a flippant shrug. “My Regnum views love differently; it is not shown by idle words or trivial affections. It is shown through devoted loyalty and steadfast obedience. And I have proven myself unwaveringly.”

I nod many times. “I see. But how have they proven their love to you?”

Vince cuts me with a sharp look. Eyelids batting, he severs eye contact. “More than you can ever know.”

Something hostile flares in the air between us, fraught with emotion.

Needing to change the topic, I say, “And what of the Dophan?”

His eyes soften, shoulders eased from slight tension.

“What is his view on love?” I ask, recalling a scandal from the past. “I heard that he had several failed engagements, ones that he refuted.”

He glances at me askance. “Not failed, incompatible,” he says in his stead. “Aljay never wanted to marry sorely out of political necessity or a way to ensure commercial health of Urium by fostering an alliance with a trade rich kingdom. He would not let his happiness suffer on the account of duty. He wanted to rule, but he wanted to rule with someone that would make the burdens of kingship bearable.”

A smile fights its way to full bloom, prospering. “Along the way, he fell in love. But with a princess, one from a small, sovereign dominion in Urium, she who faced ridicule because of her appearance.”

“Her appearance?” I blurt out with instant offence.

Vince nods, his smile tapers down to a terse line. “She was unlike the other princesses who looked like they survived only on water. She was more of a heavier build.”

I free a disgusted sound. “How idiotic and cruel. So she was deemed undesirable because she actually eats? Well then, the same can be said of me, I’m definitely more muscular than the average highborn woman. That is grotesque in the view of many.”

Vince shakes his head stiffly. “No, I would say you have a more well-defined physique, toned, it does not undermine the feminine attributes of your supple form.”

My brows furrow. “That is quite the… analysis about… my body. I do not know whether to be flattered or concerned.”

Vince sidesteps my remark. “In Emikrol, the beauty standards differ there. We prefer our women strong and healthy. Princess Amelia was exquisite, in my opinion. Curvaceous with enticing child-bearing hips, and not to mention large br—”

“Move on,” I urge.

“No need to be envious, my’Hera,” he says, smiling at me teasingly. “My eyes are only you.”

“Truly. Move on.”

“His and Her Majesty have tried to force a marriage alliance down his throat since he was old enough to comprehend the term. But now, he had finally chosen a bride worthy in his eyes, but his mother and father were displeased. Amalia came from a sovereign, yes, but a small dominion. It was nothing compared to the princesses offered from Dawegelia, Erindor and Erham.”

The winds have calmed, all is still and silent as if it too listens to Vince’s narration.

“Even though he lacked his parents’ blessing. He secretly courted Amalia for many moons. He would take an armed escort to different provinces all in the name of the Crown to do…whatever it is the royal heir does. Which he did. Adjacent to seeing Amalia, I have actually joined them on their rendezvouses to help repel suspicion. He would sometimes lie and say he was with me when he was actually with her.”

I resist the urge to ask what happened since it’s clear that is where this is leading.

“Decided, Aljay was sure that she was the one, and he would not let anyone stop him. Not even the Ruler of Urium. To quote his eloquence, he justified himself by stating the fact that title of Ruler would be crowned on him one day. His plan was to profess his love at the Regius ball.”

The Regius ball. A regal revelry so elite that not even my title grants me entry. Not unless one reigns over a kingdom or is destined to inherit one. The Regius ball is where kings and queens gather, princes and princesses meet, the birthplace of marriage alliances and new trade deals with neighbouring dominions, both under the banner of His Majesty and of those abroad like Nivalis. Even though I hear they never attend.

“What then?” I nudge. “What happened?”

“Tis a sad tale, lass,” Vince warns in his compelling, faux accent. “As the present would confirm. He never reached the part where he asked the magical words, his sickness caught him before he could.”

I inhale deeply, nodding. “Then let us reminisce on the good parts.”

His lips curl into his trademark smirk. “Would you like the short story or the full version?”

I break into a quick chortle. “Amuse me.”

He offers his elbow and I loop my arm with his as we amble down a straight path overlaid with white tiles, designed with the Nivalis insignia of a three-headed wolf.

“Once upon a time—”

An obnoxious laugh escapes me. He scolds me with a playful glare.

“Forgive me.” I thwart my smile. “Please, continue.”

“It was the eve of Regius, and being the closest companion to the Dophan. It won me an invitation to the event. You can imagine how proud my father was.” A tincture of resentment sours his tone. “I discarded him, I wanted to focus on helping my friend. When we were in his bedchamber—which was obscenely ostentatious—he was so fretful. It was strange to see.”

A wistful look caresses his face.

“He would charge into unknown danger without thought, but claiming the woman he desired he stood frozen with terror.” He shakes his head amusedly. “He spoke so feverishly that day, I can almost hear his angst ranting: What if she rejects me, what if father forbids our union, what if he punishes her dominion instead. Since I am only his son, he cannot even threaten to revoke my inheritance.”

His face grows serious. “I told him that the only what if that he should fear is one that goes unanswered. It would haunt him forever if he lacks the courage to try. Because my counsel was indeed prudent, he heeded to it.”

I simply admire how his causal boasting comes of as simple fact telling.

“The Regius ball was incredible. Gilded walls, marbled pillars and barrel ceilings, everything constructed as decorative elements meant to invoke awe. The ballroom buzzed with a dull roar, the dancefloor awash with royalty. Servants swirled around, tending to every royal’s appetite.”

I watch his distant eyes and I can tell he’s replaying a live procession of the event in his mind.

“I walked with Alejendio, at his right side. He greeted a few royals obligatorily. But he was dumbstruck the moment he saw her.” Vince’s gaze drifts to clasp with mine. “A vision of grace, the mere sight of her incapacitated him. All of his emotions in havoc. Comforted by her presence but a complete mess because if it.”

I avert my gaze to the ground.

“I leaned over and whispered: This is your chance, gather your courage. Ask her to dance and by the end of it. You will have the strength to face the entire court.”

Vince looks away and scans ahead of him, in search of something. I suppose he finds it because he starts to guide me in its direction.

“I observed from afar as he made his approach. He did not look like the brave, disguised reveller I met that night at the masked moon; the one who confronted a horde of bandits. No, this was a scared little boy with a big heart, wondering if the girl he desired would share it with him.”

Vince draws me down a narrow path on the left. It narrows before it widens without warning to a broad, circular space, surrounded by a ring of snow-cloaked trees.

“He spoke to her and requested a dance.” Vince dramatically bows down in a flourish. With his face to the ground, he lifts up his gloved hand to me.

Sensing this is my part. I lay my gloved hand in his.

“She had accepted because I saw him lead her to the dancefloor.”

Vince proceeds to direct me to the centre of the round area.

“The ballad was slow, the bard opened with soul-quenching piece, the strumming so harmonious like floating on a serene sea that takes you to a point of absolute tranquillity.” He scoops up my hand, holding it to the sky, and he gently pulls me close, his hand pressing into the small of my back. “He held her so close. As if fearing that she would slip from his grasp.”

Vince initiates the slow-paced waltz, moving in small circles from place to place. “I had never seen him so happy. Genuinely happy. I had seen him force many smiles before, at dignitaries and royals alike, but this one was as true as his feelings for her.”

Vince’s one eye twitches, an inscrutable look flashes across his face.

“I think he’s biggest fear was not that he feared wholesome rejection.” He lifts our entwined hands aloft and I do a pirouette beneath. “But he feared that she would not love him as he loved her.”

I dare to meet his gaze. And it is what I feared. The unmistakable look of want in his eyes.

“The ballad reached its peak, and the bard wailed a doleful farewell. A hush fell over the room and that is when he knew that it was his opportunity—perhaps the only one that fate would spare him.”

Vince bends the knee, our hands still together. He cups his other hand over mine. “He went down on one knee, half in anguish and half in hope. And he asked her, if she would grant him a lifetime of happiness and become his wife?”

I frown faintly. “I thought you said that he never got to asking her?”

“I am not speaking for him, asking Amalia. I am speaking for myself, asking you.”

My face blanches, I can feel my jaw loosening.

“Will you complete me, and do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

I retract my hand. He stands to his feet, hovering over me.

“Well done, you have successfully amused me,” I say, laughing it off with a painfully awkward laugh.

He stares back at me with a dead serious expression.

I gawk at him. “You cannot possibly be serious….”

“And why not?” he snaps. “It gives us both what we want. If you are chosen, or if I, the result will be the same. Urium will need a High Queen beside its High King. You would meet your objective and do your father proud, elevating Regnum Valwa to a tier thought impossible, generations after you will revere your name. And I too would obtain what I desire most. Your hand. For you to become my betrothal.”

“And do not forget the title of High King,” I say as a wry reminder.

He gives me that infuriating smirk. “A side perk,” he brushes off with a wave of his hand.

“Aurora, this is not a trick nor a lie. I admit that I have been deceitful in many things, but never about how I feel for you. I—”

“Yes,” I exclaim.

His lips snap shut. To clarify, he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “I will marry you.”

His eyes implode with tangible shock. “Truly?”

“No.” I whirl around, making a start towards the narrow path.

“Aurora, wait—” he appears in front of me, blocking my path, halting me by my shoulders. He smiles cheekily. “I beg of you, do not break my heart.”

“I was only being as genuine as you were,” I retort.

His insolent smile vanishes, his face steeling into an unyielding look.

“Have you not figured it out yet?” I ask, scorn infecting my tone. “The King Trials is founded on the principle of only one victor, one survivor. It is not about who is ‘chosen’ but who remains. That is the true test. The King Trials itself determines who is chosen, designed to root out the worthy. The only one left, the one that survives, is the only one that will rule.”

Vince shakes his head fervently. “I do not believe that. Most of the deaths were concentrated at the Blood Games, that has passed. Now we are being tested on different attributes, to many belong the ways of a king.”

I release an excessive sigh. “Even so. Why would I trust the word of a renowned manipulator? The charmer. The warrior. You have all but boasted about your political conquests and how you have used people to further your own interests, to get ahead, to obtain more power. That is what you desire, be it for you or for Regnum Ethane.”

“Of course,” he agrees with ease. “My loyalty is with my Regnum, and me wanting to my Empire thrive is no sin. My duty is to uphold its honour. But my desire is to have the one I care at my side as I do it. A legacy that can expand beyond our Regnums.”

“I disbelieve we desire the same things.”

He laughs dryly. “Still the most foolish, wise person I have ever met.”

“Clearly you are nescient of your own words, Herem Vince.” But before I can continue, he yanks me towards him, sealing my lips with his, cupping my jaw with his velvet, gloved hands. As if poisoned by a paralytic, I remain stagnant, feeling every inch of me slacken. Cold air swirls all around us, the wind frolicking in excitement. He pries my lips open with his, moaning my name, his tongue unfurls in my mouth.

Jolted out of my stupor, I rip away from him, fingertips touching my lips.

Shock drains away, filling me with anger in its stead.

“What—” I splutter in sheer bewilderment. “What in Urium’s name was that for!”

“What was that for?” he repeats gruffly.

“Yes!” I shriek. My own emotions unbridling. “Did it appear that I reciprocated your feelings, enough for you to steal a kiss!”

He turns away for a split second to wheel on me hotly. “I am not to blame.”

I spear him with a fatal look. “No?”

“No!”

“Oh, so I was asking for it?”

“Yes, but no!” His voice rising over the wind. “It is all your fault. You are to blame, standing there with lips that demand to be kissed. With a contagious smile and a laugh that sounds like the thrummed harp of an angel. Time and again, emerging from adversity stronger than before. The most fierce and extraordinary being I have ever met!” he yells like he’s spewing affronts.

“It is you. I never wanted to fall for you, but I did!”

Rendered speechless, I cast my gaze afar.

He starts to stride towards me intently. I bristle, alert, ready to shove him away. Instead, he seizes my hand and flattens it against his chest.

“Even in the arctic cold of Nivalis I am kept warm by the fire in my heart, one that burns for you, devouring me day by day.” He stares at me intensively. “You may try to hide it, to deny it. But I know there is an ember within you that burns for me too.”

I draw in a jagged breath.

After several heartbeats, composing myself. Finally, I feel brave enough to say, “What you want, I cannot give. This admission of lust that you believe I harbour for you, I do not bear. I do not deny you because I do not care—I do, against my better judgment I do.”

A triumphant shine brightens his eyes.

“I do not deny it because of lack of care. I deny you because I do not trust you.”