AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Zephyr nods, crossing his arms over his chest as we come to the bridge connecting the marketplace to the island in the Solarian Bay. The bridge dead ends into the castle courtyard, but the sheer size of it is both breathtaking and morbid.
The colossal pillars are constructed from the remnants of dragon skeletons, left behind from when the mad king eradicated the species from our realm. The wing bones loop around the sides of the stone platform to form a rail and the curved ribs create arches every so many feet overhead.
We approach the castle steps, feeling the scrutinizing eyes of the royal guard watching our every move. I just hope the glamour holds, and that the spell is as strong as the crooked lady who sold it to us suggested.
The castle stands tall with towers reaching into the clouds. Sand-colored stones make up the walls, but moss has overtaken most of the exposed surfaces, dampened by the humid, salty air. We climb the steps and enter the arched doorway, hearing the faint bustle of music.
Once inside, I break away from Zephyr and head for the great hall. The noise only grows louder and the crowd thicker until a grand room full of flickering candles and polished gold surfaces takes form. The marble floors seem to echo, and the heightened ceilings carry the sounds far and wide.
I note each exit, the double door hidden amongst the sea of windows on the right wall, leading to some sort of private garden. The hall to the left of the thrones and lastly, the one I came through. It’s always wise to be keen on every way out of a room. You never know when something will go wrong, and it’s better to be prepared and not need the knowledge than to need it and not know.
Guards are stationed along the wall and entrances, with a handful surrounding the king in all his glory, standing in front of his golden throne. All of them are clad in silver and gold armor, and like the flags and tapestries hanging from the ceiling and walls, they too are accented in a bright crimson red. The Solarian crest, dire wolves circling each other, is apparent on every single one.
The crowd is a mix of monsters and men, but a few women are present. Most are from the king’s staff, but that’s expected. Most lords wouldn’t bring their wives—assuming they have them—to an event like this. Maybe to the gauntlet itself, but this is more for the pledges entering than your standard social gathering.
The men aren’t here to form compromises between the clans or even to make eyes with the princess, though she’ll be marrying one of us. Tonight is for them to suck up to the king and beg for his favor. My hope is everyone will be so busy kissing up to him that they won’t spare a second thought when I try to talk to the princess.
With every gauntlet, the king picks a favorite pledge, and gives his advantage to one, blessing them with the opportunity to change a rule before the game begins. It can be anything except the location of the event. You could choose for no one else to have a weapon but you, or even for the king to suppress the other pledges’ magical abilities. The possibilities are endless.
Under normal circumstances, it’d be wise for me to try to earn the king’s favor, but I’ve got my eye on a different course of action. While everyone else plays inside the box, I’ll be playing outside.
The king clinks something silver against his goblet and the roar of voices dwindles to an uncomfortable silence. “Welcome, brave souls, and thank you for coming.” His gaze sweeps through the crowd. “I’ll now begin accepting pledges, but please, enjoy the feast, the ale, and the wine, for tonight is a celebration after all.”
One by one, creatures line up, and the crowd segregates into two sides. One made up of pledges awaiting to see the king and the other of those who came to witness. The musicians begin to sing again once the king has taken his throne, but I don’t rush to get in line.
Leaning against the wall at the back of the room, I watch pledge after pledge say their oaths and swear their fealty to the crown. They give the king their word that should they win, they’ll be at his beck and call. It’s just their word, though. Words can be skewed, and oaths can be broken. Pirates are only loyal to their own and any oath spoken outside of that means absolutely nothing.
Movement draws my eye. The crowd is still mostly parted, the king front and center having stepped away from his throne, but the streak of white hair... It’s impossible not to notice. She’s stunning, in a form-fitting crimson gown. The corset bones form to her waist and long sleeves hug her shoulders, flaring wide around her wrists.
Even with her face obscured by the lace veil, she’s breath-taking. Yet, no one notices or so much as stops to pay attention as she takes who should be the queen’s throne. It irks me that a magnificent image like that would go unrecognized, but it’s for the best. If I hold any chance of talking to her, the less attention she garnishes, the better.
The man currently pledging his oath glances at the princess, stumbling on his words before stopping his pledge altogether. “Why would we risk our lives for a princess if the king won’t let us see her face? Is it that bad you feel the need to hide it?” he asks, and the king frowns.
“Do you question my honor? Would you think so little of your crown to mislead you?” The king steps toward his daughter as her younger sisters file into the smaller thrones lined up behind her. He grips the lace of the veil and rips it off her head, scattering strands of white hair across her face. “I can assure you my daughters are just as beautiful as ever.”
I set my jaw, watching as the king tosses the veil to the floor as if it means nothing. The pledging man doesn’t waste a beat, stammering over his words to finish his vow.
My gaze lingers far longer than it should, fascinated more than anything. Hardly any of the princesses live past their wedding night. Usually, the winners of these events are savage creatures who know nothing more than bloodshed and couldn’t care less about the prize, only that they’ve earned the title for their clan.
Whatever pledge prevails will become one of the king’s chosen princes, earning a spot in the final trial. Should the king die of natural causes, the chosen—or their living legacies—will be allowed to fight one last time and the winner will be crowned king, but that’s just the beginning. Once the gauntlet is over, the winner’s clan or village will be treated like royalty. Their people will be regarded in the highest manner, and the king will see to their needs before the rest for ten years.
It’s why most didn’t even spare a glance at the princess when she emerged. She’s a part of the prize, but she’s not what they came for... Well, except the sorry fool who asked to see her face. Clearly, he’s interested.
It’s been this way for centuries and because of it, most of the monsters who win either kill the princess to rid themselves of the responsibility of caring for her, toss them in the forest, and let the beasts within do it for them, or worse... For some of the more brutish creatures who enter, they kill them trying to complete the wedding ritual. Regardless, only a handful of the king’s daughters live to see twenty-four.
Yet, as I stare at the woman in red, she doesn’t look like someone facing a near-certain death. She sits tall, holds her chin high, and is a face of silent strength. I’m not sure I could do the same in her circumstances.
Someone nudges my shoulder and I jolt, finding Zephyr chuckling to my right.
“I told you to stay out of sight,” I grit, letting my heartbeat settle back to a normal pace.
“And I did.”
“Then why are you here now?”
He snorts, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “To make sure you’re not getting cold feet. You’ve stood here for far too long. I thought that the potion might’ve turned you to stone.”
“I’m learning my enemy.” Regrettably turning my gaze away from the princess, I scan over the pledges, looking for signs of weakness. Anything that might give me a leg up. A limp, or a favored hand...
