"Stance, Miss Aldwyn!"
I stopped mid-transition from one step of this cursed dance to the next.
Sweat trickled down my temples. My muscles screamed in pain, and my supporting leg trembled so badly it was a miracle that it hadn't yet shattered under my weight.
I didn't dare breathe as Art circled me, his narrowed eyes methodically assessing every tiny detail of my awkward posture.
Art only used my formal title when he was profoundly displeased with my performance. I bit my lip to draw attention away from my cramping muscles, fighting with everything I had not to lose control over my limbs.
"Your toe is not supposed to touch your knee," Art said, lightly hitting the back of my bent knee with his obnoxious staff. "There should always be a space the size of two fingers between your knee and toe. Your back should arch more, too. Have you not been following the schedule I gave you?"
Art waved his hand lazily in the air, dismissing me.
I violently expelled the breath I'd been holding. My limbs slackened, and I dropped to the floor, relishing the chill from the tiles biting into my flushed skin.
After four relentless hours of continuously repeating that miserable dance, I needed a break—a long break.
"What are you doing?" Art asked sharply.
"Relaxing," I muttered, barely able to control my tongue. I closed my eyes, welcoming the soothing darkness.
A sudden blow to my stomach forcibly ripped the fresh air from my lungs. I coughed to catch my breath and rolled to my side, pressing my hands against my spasming diaphragm.
"Did I give you permission to relax?" Art asked, indifferent to the fact that he had just slammed the tip of his staff into my very vulnerable stomach. "Get up and let us take the dance from the top."
"Again?" I asked hopelessly once I caught my breath. "Come on, Art. I haven't had a break in four hours. Miss Evelyn will pulverize me if I show up with a limp tonight—not to mention the countless bruises that I doubt a dress appropriate for the Crown Show will be able to cover."
"Nonsense," Art said, dismissing my plea with a lazy wave of his hand. "The healers will fix you in no time. We cannot afford to waste a moment of your training. The second trial will be upon us sooner than we might think."
I sighed, pressing my brow against the floor. His mood was even worse than usual. I didn't know why, and I knew better than to ask.
"Get up," Art said again, pointing toward the middle of the floor. "We start from the top."
I groaned and pushed myself to my sore feet. Whoever had interrupted his morning with bad news better have had a good reason.
My toes dragged across the floor as I strode toward my damnation. I crossed my right leg behind the left and twisted my back to the left. I stretched my left arm to the side—palm facing the sky—and bent my right arm in front of my chest.
"Chin up. Front leg bent," Art remarked, hitting my thigh with his dreadful staff.
I wanted to curse that monstrosity all the way back to the seed from which its founding tree had sprouted.
My muscles protested the strain as I adjusted my stance. I didn't want to inspire another lecture, so I bit back my complaints.
"Good," Art said, nodding approvingly. "You may begin."
I sucked in a breath, inhaling as much strength and courage as I could muster, and began moving from one step to the next like a leaf swaying in the wind.
After practicing this wicked dance daily for nearly a month, I knew every step by heart. However, understanding and executing the steps flawlessly were two vastly different concepts.
"Flex your wrists, Willow!" Art shouted.
I clenched my jaw, pushing my trembling wrists into a painful flex as I jumped into the next pose. I was so close to completing it; just a few more steps.
My supporting leg suddenly buckled under me, and I crumpled, unable to save it.
Art sighed. The sound of his disappointment cut deep.
"I suppose we can call it a day. It will not do if you cannot attend tonight's interview." He approached me and gently helped me up from the floor. "You did good, Willow—especially during the final routine. There are still some shortcomings in your performance, not to mention your disturbing lack of flexibility, but we shall discuss those next time."
Was that a smile hiding in the left corner of his mouth?
"Come on," he said, tucking my arms around his neck and pulling me onto his back. "Let us make our way to the healers' wing. You could use their help."
"And whose fault is that?" I muttered against his shoulder.
Art chuckled. "Mine, I suppose. I may have pushed you a tad bit further than necessary, but I—"
He didn't finish his sentence, and the silence that filled the following void appeared deafening.
I was too tired to ask and too exhausted to care. I only longed for the soothing touch of a healer to mend my aching body. Sooner rather than later.
Art sighed. "Hang in there, Will. I know a shortcut."
***
I pressed my brow against the wooden façade of the door to my chamber, groaning as I fumbled to catch my swaying necklace.
My body still ached a bit despite my visit to the healers' wing, not to mention the fatigue that seemed to have spun laces of exhaustion around every part of my body. My limbs felt impossibly heavy, and my head a bit hazed.
Finally, my stiff fingers caught the dangling necklace, but before I could press the blue crystal against the wood, I heard the door beside me click open.
"Will?" Calla carefully poked her head through the opening. Her pale lips stretched into a calm smile when she caught sight of me. "Rough day?"
I snorted and turned to face her properly, bracing my back against the door instead. "I think that may be the understatement of the year," I joked, fiddling restlessly with the crystal. "I have no doubt I could sleep soundly until far beyond the next dawn."
"Wow," she said, giggling. She stepped into the hall, revealing a silver robe draped around her body and a pair of plush socks—her usual outfit when awaiting her stylist's arrival. "Price Arthur must be pushing you hard, given that you also have to participate in all the other suitor activities."
She leaned against the door frame. "Yeah," I said, rubbing my damp neck. "He kept me around for almost four hours without the shadow of a break. The healers took care of my bruises and the majority of my muscle fatigue, but I'm still so tired. I hoped to squeeze in a bit of sleep before Adriel arrived."
I could tell here that much. Nothing I said violated my contract. She could've known I'd been gone for four hours if she'd paid attention.
Calla's face twisted into a grimace. "What?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, Will, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."
My shoulders dropped. "Why?"
"Adriel was here five minutes ago and walked away sputtering curses when he found out you weren't there. I could imagine he'll be back again soon."
Great. Given Calla's description, he would likely be even grumpier than the old prince. This was going to be a long evening.
"Are you okay, Will?" Calla asked as I rubbed my temples. "You have seemed a little on edge lately."
I sighed. "Yeah. I'm just tired, I think." And missing home. "But I'll be alright."
Calla arched her brow. "So, it has nothing to do with the recent developments of the Crown Trials?"
I didn't lift my gaze to meet hers.
The number of suitors had been reduced to fourteen, which meant that the next phase of the Crown Trials had begun: private dates with the crown prince.
Two suitors had already been on their first dates.
Tanith had refused to share any details about the course of her date, claiming that it was an intimate matter between her and the crown prince. In reality, I think she'd feared Alia's reaction to the glint of joy in her eyes as she narrated the story.
It was hard to blame her. Alia could be quite terrifying when the cameras or the royals weren't around, which made me question why Tanith still bothered tailing her around like a dog on a leash.
Azure, on the other hand, had not been afraid to share the grand details of her date, and she had savored the attention. The suitors had gathered around her as if she had been the sun itself while she'd told us how Caiden had brought her to the tallest tower. He had prepared a romantic, candlelit dinner beneath a glass canopy so they could enjoy an uninterrupted view of the starry night above them.
He had gone above and beyond to make Azure feel special, which didn't surprise me. It was the kind of person he was, and I had no doubt that he would make the rest of the suitors feel equally special.
I should've been happy for them, especially because Calla was the next suitor in line. Caiden had asked her to meet him outside the Parlor tomorrow, but that was all we currently knew.
However, the joy I should've felt for my friend had been snuffed out by a numbness that had haunted me since I made that promise to the king.
I had done my best to keep a safe distance from Caiden. I'd gone above and beyond to make sure I didn't accidentally run into him without the other suitors around. So far, I'd succeeded, but what would I do when it was me that he asked out?
Would I be able to refuse? No. Not likely. I was still a suitor in the eyes of the public, and a suitor refusing a date would not give the right impression.
Spirits. I didn't even know whether it was Caiden who decided when or which suitors he would bring on the next date. It could be that the king also had a part to play in these decisions. Hopefully, that was the case.
"What about tonight?" Calla asked, jerking me back to reality. "Are you ready to wrestle with Arawn for another round of questionnaires?"
I snorted and curled my lips into a wry smile. "I don't think Arawn or the audience will pay as much attention to me as they will to you," I said.
Calla's face turned pale from the surge of blood to her face. She quickly hid her burning cheeks in her sleeve. "That's not what I meant, Will. Besides, I haven't been on my date yet. Tanith and Azure have."
I chuckled quietly at her evading eyes. "Has he revealed any further details about your date tomorrow?"
I wish it didn't sting to ask her, but at least the ache in my chest wasn't as unbearable as when Tanith announced her date.
Calla shook her head. "Not yet. I haven't allowed my imagination to run too wild, but I have no doubt that he will have planned something amazing. He is quite creative."
I nodded. "That's true," I said, sighing before I could consider the implications of that reaction.
Calla's head tilted sideways as she looked me over with curious eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me—besides the things that your special contract forbids you from sharing?
Cursed blood. I wasn't rested enough to have this conversation or spin a believable excuse.
"Why are you still in that sweaty outfit?"
Adriel marched bitterly down the corridor toward us, his brow furrowed, and his hands clenched tightly around his tools. Lux and Amelia followed closely behind him with two trolleys filled to the brim with make-up, tools, and other products I didn't dare guess what could be for.
I swallowed anxiously, unsure whether I wanted to kiss him for saving me from an awkward conversation or throw him to the sharks for keeping me away from my alluring bed.
"My apologies, Miss Young," Adriel quickly added with a stiff smile that looked more forced than his hairdo. "Miss Aldwyn appears to have forgotten that this evening does not belong to her. We have a deadline to meet and many issues to address"—I scowled at him, a little bothered over his choice of words—"so I must kidnap her for the time being."
Adriel impatiently grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to push me inside my chamber.
"See you later, Calla!" I shouted just before Adriel shut the door behind us.
"Where have you been?" Adriel asked frantically, directing Lux and Amelia toward the dressing table. "You should have been here twenty minutes ago. And what are you wearing?"
I resisted the urge to grumble like an old geezer. "Training," I said, carefully considering my words. "I was... training."
Adriel looked at me as if it was the most ridiculous excuse he had heard in his entire life. Half a minute passed before he expelled a despondent breath. "I guess that explains the clothes and the stench."
He didn't look to be joking.
"Look, Will," he said, sighing as he leaned against the leftmost post of my bed. "I find no joy in pushing you, but we don't have much time, and I need you scrubbed down and dressed before the hour is up.
"I admire your commitment to your role as Heliac's future protector, but a queen is more than that. A queen is grace and finesse. She is sophistication served on a clean platter."
I had no idea what he was talking about.
Adriel sighed again when he noticed my blank eyes. "Your strength matters, but so does your appearance."
His dark eyes shone in the dim light of the chandelier, a tinge of gold lining his irises. They pleaded with me to comply, and I didn't have the energy or the heart to be difficult.
"Fine," I said. "Where do you need me?"
Adriel's smile finally turned genuine. "Shower. Lux and Amelia will help you. Food will be served in your room half an hour from now, and I will prepare the necessary tools. Those deep-set circles under your eyes cannot be caught on camera."
I nodded and twisted on my heel to enter the bathroom, where Lux and Amelia filled the tub with steaming water.
Adriel closed the door behind me. I slipped out of my comfortable warrior clothes, ready to return to the dreadful life of enacting Wildcard of the Crown Trials.