A wicked grin spread across his face. “I can’t order you, that’s true. You’re no longer a servant and you’re no citizen of my kingdom, but I wish you would. It’d make it all the more fun, and I promise, I’d be gentle.”
Ambrose pulled herself from his grasp. “You’re right. Youcan’torder me.”
“And you’re a feisty one.” Jovian straightened, the wicked glint in his eyes dancing. “You might just have a chance yet.”
She refused to look at him as he made his way down the line, never taking his eyes off of Ambrose.
Once the royals were done gauging the competition for the year and had placed their bets with Onabas, the Trial Champions were permitted to roam about the palace to their hearts’ content. Though they knew not to stray too far. The royals enjoyed observing them and reflecting on each of their odds of survival. The tournament may not have started officially, but that didn’t stop their twisted pre-games.
Ambrose eagerly scanned the crowd, looking for Akadian but he was still nowhere in sight. Even the king had finally come out to make an appearance now that all the guests had arrived, welcoming each of them to his kingdom. Wearing the same proud, golden armor he had the day ofher trial, his footsteps could be heard well down the corridor. The crest of Eltoria was displayed brilliantly on his armor, his cape falling off his shoulder in a curtain of crimson, silver and gold. The prince, who was usually begrudgingly by his side, was absent as the king moved through the halls greeting the royalty. The Queen of Damayaria gave him a short bow, while the King of Sepikara clasped forearms with him as though they were old friends. Maybe they were. Little was known about the tundra rulers but for the fact that they almost never left their home kingdom. Jovian and the queen cared little for small pleasantries and had already stalked off into the crowd.
Ernaline pushed her way through the crowd to Ambrose who had taken to standing against a wall, eyes moving over the crowd as she looked for Akadian and tried to ignore the growing panic in her chest.
“Anything?” Ambrose pleaded as she reached her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been holding her breath until Ernaline was back in her sights.
“No,” she replied breathlessly, holding a tray of various cheeses and meats that smelled absolutely divine. Compliments to Ms. Asquith. Ernaline’s usual servant gown had been traded for the one they were required to wear for the event. Instead of the scratchy, plain, white material, it was replaced with a brilliant one made of white arachne silk that pooled off her body in a way that flawlessly accented her curves. The crest of Eltoria pinned to her chest displaying the kingdom that claimed her.
“Where could he be?” Ambrose’s nerves were growing by the second. The knot in her stomach that had been there all day clenched and she took a deep breath.
“I don’t know,” Ernaline told her. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears out, I promise. I’ll come find you again as soon as I can.”
Ambrose nodded and bit her lower lip, grateful that her friend was also on the lookout. He had to besomewhere.
With the light of day now gone, and the royals and nobles all there, it was time to make their way to the Grand Hall where the servants diligently set out long carved wooden tables to house all the new guests. Set in agiant circle around the room, the center stayed bare aside for a beautifully handwoven carpet where people could dance and enjoy the festivities. The thrones sat at the head of the room for all to see, one for the king, queen, and prince. Each table was adorned with a tablecloth that matched the corresponding kingdom and its colors.
Imperial and Draconian Guard were already stationed around the walls, standing at silent attention in their best armor and weapons to show the strength and might of the warrior kingdom. Silver and gold from the walls glinted against the firelights as servants poured in behind the royals and found their stations around the tables to serve.
Set in between the tables of royal colors were tables with white cloths for the Trial Champions to disperse around for all the nobility to see clearly and admire. Off in the corner, musicians were already playing a soft tune on many types of instruments as the crowd filled in and found their seating. Ambrose grabbed a chair at the first empty table she found, sinking into the velvet seat as her heart beat rapidly in her chest.
She watched as one after another, beings poured in chattering as they sat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face that came rushing to sit next to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Lily as she took the empty seat beside her.
“I’m a lesser noble, we’re all invited to the feast.” Lily grabbed her arm. Ambrose always thought Lily was gorgeous but the dark blue gown that hugged her in just the right ways, and golden chest plate she wore with her family crest, truly made her stunning. She even had a jeweled dagger strapped to her side with an eagle on the handle that matched the crest on her breast plate, and knowing Lily, Ambrose was confident she had more weapons hiding in other places—even if her dress gave little room for hidden items. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun pinned with a golden hairpin that Ambrose quickly realized was actually another small dagger. Small pieces of her hair were curled and framing her eyes that watched the room as sharply as her blades. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone.”
Ambrose could’ve kissed her.
“Move, I’ll be sitting here,” a voice Ambrose had hoped not to hear again for the rest of the night told a lesser noble who sat on the other side of her.
Jovian glared down at the noble who quickly scrambled from his seat and moved further down the table. Ambrose was so distracted she hadn’t noticed the color of the tablecloth she’d sat next to—onyx.
She realized her mistake too late.
“Sire, isn’t it customary for the rulers to sit at the center of their tables? The servants went through all the struggle of bringing those thrones out just for you and thequeen,” Ambrose tried to deflect as her eyes darted to the two silver thrones at the table for Nethyr.
Jovian sat down forcefully as he held his empty goblet above his head for a servant to refill. “It’s customary for a king to sit where he pleases. And this seat pleases me.” He placed a hand on Ambrose’s thigh and she squeezed her crossed legs together, crushing his fingers.
“Feisty indeed,” Jovian purred, prying his fingers from her lap. Smiling, he drank heavily from his now full goblet. “I think you’re going to be rather fun and surprising.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ambrose feigned, refusing to look at him.
Jovian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in close. “I think you do.”
“Sire, is it wise to be so blatantly showing your favorite to win?” Lily interjected, disgusted with the display. Her fingers tapping the hilt of her dagger impatiently under the table. “The others might find itdistasteful.”
“Favorite to win?” Ambrose cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh, yes.” Jovian sat back and finished the contents of his goblet in one gulp. “I bet on you to win this thing.”
