Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Six

We avoid talking about it whenever we’re together. The fact that Xertormei asked me what I thought of Alec was strange enough, but that sense of tension seems to lie thick in the air. Alec still doesn’t know the truth about who the King really is, and I figure it would be better if it stays that way for a while.

Alec finds me in the courtyard, admiring the native flowers, especially the Sapphire Tree.

‘I still don’t believe it,’ he says, running up to me and examining it for himself. ‘This place is so much more than I thought it would be. Certainly more than the old tales say,’ he laughs.

I nod in agreement, but my sigh seems to imply something else and weigh down the conversation. He notices.

‘What is it?’ he asks, cocking his head to the side, ‘Still deciding if I’m agreeable for whatever purpose you choose?’ his lips curl into a mischievous grin, the same one he always wears. I bump his shoulder with mine.

‘No,’ I reply sharply, rolling my eyes, ‘It’s just that I can’t believe I’m finally here. I’ve dreamed of this place for so long and now it’s all here.’ I gesture to the tree, which hovers over us gracefully, its blue illuminating us. I turn to face him and look into his eyes. I see a glimmer of something in them, but it’s not just the sapphire’s reflection...it’s something else, something that makes my heart skip a beat.

~.~.~.~

There is great commotion in the pastures now. The sound of swords clashing against each other, wailing from the wounded, and cheers of a gathering crowd echo around the kingdom suddenly.

I spot Uncle roaming the halls in his great cloak, a finely dressed girl at his side, her arm linked with his. They walk at an even pace, their strides in sync, the ends of their glistening robes trailing behind them. Her face is covered by a sheer piece of cloth that only implies the existence of her lips and the words she may speak, but she is concealed. The hood she wears is of velvet, pearl white. My eyes follow them down the hall, as their heads are occasionally leaning into each other in secret discussion. He rests his hands on her shoulders and plants a kiss on her forehead, before whispering something in her ear. She bows to him before leaving his side in favour of a small alleyway. He turns back towards the hall and meets my eyes. I stop and my mouth falls open. I try to act casual, glance at a few Allerians without causing offence. I compliment one woman on her dress and she embraces me with a loud ‘Layr! Layr!’ which I assumed was ‘Thank you!’.

Then he finds me. He nods in approval.

‘You seem to be making friends quickly,’ he notes, ‘Come, walk with me.’

I walk with him the same way the concealed girl did; stride in sync, evenly paced.

‘What’s with all the commotion?’ I ask, my heart burning with curiosity.

He chuckles. ‘It’s the Lunar Traegorn, the Feast of the Moon.’ He tells me. ‘When the moon shines full, it serves as a reminder that the grace of the light favours us. We feast until the full moon has passed.’ He stops to see if I understand. I nod. ‘We hold various activities during the Feast, including contests.’

‘Contests?’

He nods, gesturing towards the arena, where two Allerians are duelling one another with swords. One swings at the other, narrowly missing his left arm. The other blocks the attack and swipes at his abdomen. A cry escapes the wounded man’s lips. I flinch.

‘We use the Lunar Traegorn as an opportunity to showcase each other’s strengths,’ he says as the wounded man falls to the ground, clutching his knee in agony, screaming. ‘And weaknesses.’ The King corrects himself.

I laugh nervously. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assures me, ‘The children are spared from any real harm in the arena. Only those who have pledged their oath can participate in a duel with sharpened blades.’

‘They have to be of age,’ I note, remembering what the books had told me as a little girl. Being ‘of age’ simply meant that you had lived at least eighteen years as a mortal, before you could be granted an oath and receive immortality from the King.

He smiles proudly. ‘You know your history, Skaya.’

I nod. The wounded man is dragged away by several armoured Allerian men and the swords are collected by another who stands to the side under a marquee. The Allerian under the marquee swaps the bloodied swords for blunt ones as the next match is called into motion. An Allerian girl steps into the arena and takes her blade. She swings it a few times and gets used to it’s weight. She almost drops it the moment she grips the handle. As she tries to recompose herself, another girl enters from the left, dressed in a pearl white hood. I’ve seen her before. My head flicks to the King. He wears nothing but a proud smile.

‘Uncle...isn’t that—?’

‘Yes,’ he says without looking at me. ‘She’s your cousin, Faeore. She is Alleria’s new Seer.’

I swallow my excitement at the word cousin. ‘And the other girl?’ I ask.

‘A child of a well-known family in Alleria.’ He points to the crowd, where a nervous man and woman watch on. ‘Her parents stand in the front row.’

I nod when I see them.

‘Her name is Rhewieen,’ he continues, ‘And she can speak to weapons, command them with her voice.’

A loud trumpet sounds as the two girls get in position. My cousin removes her veil from the lower part of her face and folds it repeatedly until you cannot see through it. She brings it up, in line with her eyes and blindfolds herself.

I suddenly feel a pang of anxiety. This isn’t right.

‘Uncle!’ I exclaim. ‘She cannot see! She will lose the fight.’

He shakes his head. ‘She does not need to see with the common eye, Skaya.’ He says, ‘She is a Seer. She will know what is coming before it happens.’

‘Temar kranorren ulayien!’ the announcer exclaims from the comfort of his box seat, just off to the side of the main arena.

A grin crawls onto my Uncle’s face. ‘Let the games begin!’