Page 15 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

Royals, nobles, and guard alike stepped forward, placed a fist over their heart and replied in unison, “For bonds and bloodline.” Before they shuffled out of the Grand Hall, pointing and staring at Ambrose as they left.

Word was going to spread fast. A criminal was entering the trials.

The first time in history someone made the pledge during a criminal trial. She wasn’t sure which one would end up being the better decision but there was no turning back now. The decision had been made.

Trial Champion.

She repeated the words over and over in her head, trying to make them feel real, but the concept was so distant.

The guards who brought her grabbed her by her arms, their musky smell gagging her.

As nobles filed out of the chamber, they formed a gossiping congregation outside, ready to tell anyone who would listen what they’d just witnessed.

Casimir threw her one more look of approval as he disappeared into the crowd, cold clinging to everything as he passed.

Akadian stepped down from his throne, each step slow and deliberate as she looked at her as though he hadn’t seen her every day for twenty-three years, like she was something exciting.

Why did the royals always seem to be waiting for something to come that was more entertaining than the last?

Always chasing that rush that only the suffering of others seemed to give them.

Were they truly so bored with their near immortality that cruelty was the only way for them to feel anything anymore?

How long did one have to live to get to that point?

She didn’t hide her expression as he approached her. Didn’t hide her disgust.

Was this what it felt to be free? To no longer have to hide?

“That was an interesting display,” he remarked as he reached her. Standing almost a head taller than her, he had to bend his head down to face her.

“Glad you enjoyed the show, Your Highness ,” she sneered .

“I most definitely did.”

“I’d hate to disappoint royalty.” She bowed sarcastically. How many times had she bowed to him before? Not once had she meant it.

“What kind of creature are you?” he asked curiously.

“What kind of creature are you ?”

Apparently, that made him laugh. Which made her furious.

“I’ll take it from here,” he dismissed the guards that boxed her in with their slimy, scaled bodies as though she would run at any moment.

No. She’d be much smarter than that.

They pounded a closed fist over their hearts and bowed to the prince before slithering off to wherever their kind came from with a, “Yesss, Your Highhhnessss.”

Ambrose was more than glad to have them gone but wasn’t sure how much better her present company would be.

“You don’t seem very pleased for someone who’s just cheated death.” Akadian studied her expression, his icy eyes trailing over her body and she fought back the shiver that crawled up her spine.

“Cheated for now, you mean.”

“Possibly.” He waved her forward. “Shall we?”

With no other choice, Ambrose was forced to follow him.

Her fate now in her hands.

* * *

Maintaining a few paces behind, Ambrose watched how Akadian moved.

She’d never known him to be anything other than bored or cruel, and the former usually led to the latter.

She watched the way he casually kept his hands down, swaying slightly with his steps and noticed how his muscles tensed in a way that told her he wasn’t as relaxed as he might like others to believe.

He led her down corridors, winding left and right, most she was familiar with, until they reached a far end of the palace.

Then, he surprised her when he ducked behind a wall and seemingly vanished behind it.

She reached forward to touch the smooth surface but when her hand should’ve connected with solid, it passed right through, swallowing her arm from sight.

An illusion. With a deep breath, she followed him through it.

A vast courtyard opened on the other side, circular and full of lush, colorful life in every corner.

Flowers native to every corner of the kingdom brightly displayed their radiance: roses from the mountains, lilies from the southeast—and even a rare flower and one of her favorites: moonbeam.

A beautiful lily that glowed under moonlight.

There were even ghost orchids—rare and only found in a small swampy area of the continent.

A secret garden. And one that had been maintained with an immense amount of love and care.

Each bush trimmed to precision and expertly arranged to flow through the garden in a whirlwind of color.

“Where are we?” Ambrose breathed as she let the scents and sights wash over her, flowers mixing together in a blend of aroma. It was truly incredible. Flowers that weren’t even in season bloomed in full burst.

“I’m taking you to my bed chambers,” he replied without looking back.

Ambrose was so invested in the garden, it took a moment for his words to register. “I’m sorry, what?” She stopped dead in her tracks.

“I won’t repeat myself, servant.”

“Don’t call me servant.” She wasn’t a servant. Not anymore.

He turned to her, brow raised at her command. “What should I call you then?”

“You can call me by my name.” She pushed past him, eager to get out of his garden. She wasn’t staying with a royal . She’d rather sleep outside.

He laughed. “That would require you to tell me what it is.”

Blood rushed to Ambrose’s ears and the warmth spread across her face.

He knew her name. She’d served him for over two decades, day after day.

And regardless of that, he just heard her make the pledge.

Red seeped into the corners of her vision as she evaluated how much he was toying with her.

She took a deep breath and put on a sickly sweet smile that she knew he’d see for what it was.

“Ambrose,” she replied curtly, “My name is Ambrose.”

“Ambrose…Little Rose,” he mused.

“Ambrose. That’s it. Just Ambrose.” How arrogantly the royals treated them, as if they were nothing. Playing with them for their own pleasure.

“Whatever you say, Little Rose,” he smirked from behind her.

She wouldn’t give him the pleasure. Wouldn’t let it get to her how small he wanted to make her feel. Insignificant. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting under her skin. Not today. Today, she had survived.

She decided to change the subject, “Why are you taking me to your chambers and not the fighter dormitories?”

“How else am I going to keep my eye on you? We can’t have you staying in the fighters’ wing, something like you wouldn’t last a night among those brutes.

” Ambrose scoffed at his assumption. “And, I can’t have you sneaking off in the middle of the night, can I?

Not when you’re as resourceful as you are. ”

“Resourceful?” she repeated.

Akadian stepped closer to her, the heat from his magick pulsing from his skin as it grazed hers.

“You know where they found you?” Ambrose turned away, hoping he wouldn’t see her expression.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and his magick sent a tingling current up her spine and down her body to her toes.

She bit back a gasp as he guided her to the center of the garden.

Every direction encased them in flora so thick, the air hung around them with a heavy silence.

Ambrose was sure that standing right there, no one in the world could hear them.

A crafty magick. Akadian waved a hand and a thick, red wooden door with iron bars crossing every way appeared.

He placed his open palm on the door and the bars pulled back until they revealed a brass handle in the center, which he turned and pushed the door open.

He continued as they walked through it, “They found you in a part of the palace that’s been dormant since The Inferno.

Part of the structure that never got finished, it’s a place few know of.

Magickally protected, there’s no way you stumbled into that area accidentally, so what in the name of the gods were you doing down there? ”

They stepped through the doorway into a vast chamber and a room spread out with vaulted ceilings and bookshelves that reached all the way to the top of them.

Windows that almost took up an entire wall filled the room with what Ambrose could only assume now was early afternoon light.

Extravagant furniture that said the decorator understood style as well as beauty, sat in the center.

A desk sat in the corner with papers scattered all across it.

They laid next to ink and a quill as though they’d been recently used.

On opposite sides of the room stood two identical doors.

“This is your room?” she asked, ignoring his question and hoping he would forget it entirely. “How do you conceal a chamber so large? And the garden? Are they concealed from everyone?”

“I don’t like others knowing where I sleep.

” Akadian told her as he slumped into a velvet armchair with brass finishing.

He rested his head against the backing, midnight waves falling in front his eyes—which he didn’t seem to mind as he closed them, and covered them with his hand.

He didn’t move or make a sound and for a moment his expression softened and he almost looked…

human. Ambrose quickly reminded herself he was something far from it.

“What if someone finds the wall and steps through it?” she prompted.

He didn’t move his hand away as he said, “Whoever it was would simply get one sniff of my garden and suddenly have the urge to go to another room, and remembering where this one was would be very difficult.”

“What about the servants who tend your garden?” She wondered how much he would share with her.

He sighed. “I don’t have servants who tend my garden.”

But that would mean…