Page 22 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

I t was finally the official end of the harvest months.

The tree leaves all over the city were turning vibrant shades of reds, golds and purples, signifying the end of a good season.

The kingdom eagerly prepared for the Harvest Festival, a week of festivities to celebrate the mages and a good reap.

This year, they had a lot to celebrate as the kingdoms would stay well fed through the next year with the bountiful crop they’d grown.

Having been blessed by the gods with the most fertile land, Eltoria was responsible for raising the crops and game that would feed the kingdoms for an entire cycle until the harvest next year.

For one week, the nature mages got to rest in hibernation to replenish their mana while the rest of the kingdom had little responsibilities, and on the last day, everyone would come together for one of the biggest celebrations of the year.

Ambrose loved the Harvest Festival.

Throughout the halls servants in the palace were hard at work decorating for the festivities to come.

Each passing white gown a silent tug on her heart as she knew none of them would speak to—or even acknowledge her.

She didn’t blame them. The threat of Casimir had been looming over everyone since his arrival.

Even the king had taken to sulking around the palace, avoiding any room Casimir found himself to be in.

Servants who once felt free enough to whisper among themselves now marched on in stone silence.

Nobles, who usually found pleasure in tormenting the servants whenever they could exert that authority had become docile, gossiping shells.

Even Akadian appeared grumpier as the weeks passed. If that was even possible .

However, with the coming celebrations, spirits in the palace were raising again and everyone was a little happier with one of the most anticipated weeks of the year almost upon them.

This was the one time of the year servants were given a little more leeway than usual.

When the nobility and royals got so drunk they hardly seemed to even notice the servant class was enjoying themselves too. It was a time for all to celebrate.

“I’m going to the Harvest Festival,” Ambrose told Akadian as they walked through a hall and passed servants hanging flowers from the ceiling like a waterfall of lavender droplets.

Akadian glanced at her sideways, his eyes roaming over her. “What if I decide not to let you?” He stopped to smell and admire a floral arrangement a servant carried.

She turned towards him and squared her shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”

“What makes you think I can’t find a way?

” he asked through a snaking smile as he nodded to the servant who ran away with the flowers.

“It would be all too easy to deliver you hissing and screaming to our bed chambers.” His mouth twitched as he slowly looked up her body, lingering with his gaze and back down. “It might even be fun.”

“Our bed chambers?” Her nose crinkled.

“ Our bed chambers.” His cold stare burned into her as he gave her a sharp grin.

“I’d love to see you try.” she glared at him. “Besides, didn’t Casimir say you weren’t to interfere? Simply ‘watch and report’?”

“Yes, he did,” Akadian mused and crossed his arms. Ambrose defiantly kept her eyes trained on his face to keep them from lingering on the way his muscles flexed under the movement.

She hated the prince, but she wasn’t dead.

Or blind. “I suppose I could order someone else to do it, but seeing another noble drag you kicking to your chambers would take most of the fun out of it for me. So that is a dilemma.”

“If you do that, I’ll just tell Casimir it was you.” She shrugged.

Akadian smirked at the thought. “And what makes you think he’ll believe you over me ?”

“I can be rather convincing,” Ambrose replied, crossing her own arms over her chest. “Who knows, maybe he’ll even cut your leash and let me go free.”

He stepped closer to her. “Or, maybe he’ll decide watching you himself would be more advantageous for him.”

Ambrose tapped a pointed finger on his chest. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I’m sure he’d at least be more entertaining to talk to.”

Akadian leaned in so his mouth was next to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine that stopped at her toes. “ Liar . You’re too afraid of him.”

“So are you,” she shot back, face flushed as she shoved him away. “I’ve never seen a royal afraid of anything and he has you terrified. Maybe you’re not so tough after all.”

Akadian stiffened intensely, but as quickly as he lost it, he regained his composure, and the fear she saw remained only in her memory.

Though he plastered a smile on his face, his eyes gave him away so clearly.

He was terrified. Ambrose teased and hoped she was wrong, but seeing his reaction confirmed her fears.

Casimir was different. Nothing like the royals or nobles in the palace and might even be stronger than all of them together.

His power vibrated through every inch of the palace constantly keeping it a chilly temperature as though to remind them all that he was always there.

Somewhere. A chill of which many were ill-prepared for, the fireplaces in the palace kept burning in every room, regardless of the warmth outside.

“You’d be a fool not to be.” Ambrose surprised herself when she admitted, “He doesn’t seem like the rest of the nobility.

I can’t imagine if that’s what the beings in Naenaros are like.

” Something flashed across the prince’s face but vanished as quickly.

No matter how much she studied him, his facial expressions, his body language, it seemed as though reading Akadian was like reading a book the author didn’t want to be read.

When he didn’t respond, she continued, “What do you know about him? Why are you so afraid of him? Why is everyone so afraid of him?”

Akadian paused for a long time. “He’s old… I think he’s one of the First Kings.”

The confession hit her like a boulder, blood rushing to her face. A new level of fear gripped her that she didn’t know was possible and dug its claws firmly inside her.

“Casimir… is a First King?”

“It’s the only explanation. I’ve never felt a power like his,” Akadian spoke in such a hushed tone, his voice barely carried past his lips.

A First King.

In the palace.

One who held her trial.

One now personally invested in her future.

A First King.

Fuck .

A crack tore through the space around them, accompanied by a flash of purple-white light that burst the wall it connected with. Sharp and sudden enough to even send Akadian flying back multiple paces as he caught himself on his feet.

The energy inside of Ambrose clouded her vision and crackled as her channels surged and white hot pain ripped through her nerves.

A First King…

“Calm yourself, young mage.” The warning came stern and strong but Ambrose struggled to hear them over the rush pounding in her veins as strikes of electricity ripped through the hallway. “Before someone innocent is hurt.”

The servants that had been dutifully preparing for the Harvest Festival came flooding back to her.

If she failed to control her magick, one of them could be killed and she would never forgive herself.

She choked back the fear and reigned in her focus with everything she could until her channels flowed steadily once more.

Her breathing no longer ragged as she forced deep breaths.

In. Out. In. Out.

Akadian stared at her with a mixture of shock and horror.

“What, did I hurt you?” The sarcasm she meant to add in her voice caught in her throat.

Akadian stared at her through cold, narrowed eyes. “That was Lightning.”

That was impossible .

Goosebumps still prickled her skin as Ambrose rubbed her arms. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious.”

She sighed and rubbed her temple. “I didn’t mean to surprise you but I’m really not in the mood today. Lightning takes years to master, there’s no way.”

“I know Lightning,” Akadian remarked.

Of course he did. The king used Lightning Magick, she hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t know what you saw, but I haven’t come close to mastering the basics of an Element, let alone something that advanced. Which you’re well aware of, having not left my side for two moon cycles now.”

“I know.”

Once again, Ambrose remembered the servants who’d been occupying the hallway which was now empty—save for the ends—where they’d scurried for safety. Moments ago they’d been happily decorating and now they bunched together, huddled as they looked at her in terror.

“I’m so sorry!” she managed to get out through the guilt growing in her chest. Did she really just wield Lightning? How was that possible?

Unable to stand the way they looked at her, Ambrose ran down the corridor, achingly aware of Akadian in step behind her.

She’d seen that look more times in her life than she could count.

She’d only ever seen it pointed at the nobles and royals, never did she think it would be pointed at her . Like she was the monster.

She pushed her way through the halls as she searched for somewhere— anywhere— that wasn’t full of servants or nobles. Away from prying eyes and judgment. Her invisible chains broken but something so much more unstable had taken their place.

What had she become?

“It gets easier,” Akadian said solemnly from behind her.

Anger boiled inside of her. Why was he always there?

“What does?” she snapped, whipping around to face him. She wouldn’t cry.

“That look,” he said softly. “You get used to it. ”

“I’ll never get used to that,” she spat venomously. Did he mean to compare them? He was a royal. Heartless. They were nothing alike. “What makes you think you could possibly comprehend how I feel? You’re a royal. You relish in others’ fear.”

A shadow fell over his expression as Akadian replied, “Trust me. I understand.”

* * *