Page 65 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

“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 be somewhere .

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 a giant 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 the queen, ” 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 it distasteful .”

“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.”

“You bet on me to win ?” No one had ever bet for anyone to win, but simply on how well they thought they would do or how long they might last, but never to win . The nobles enjoyed a game but they didn’t enjoy throwing coins away on nothing.

“Yes, and I think my bet was very well placed.” He smiled at the plate of meat and vegetables that a servant set in front of him .

As though to save her from the interaction, the king and Casimir strolled into the hall with Imperial Guards and servants following in step behind them.

Ambrose gasped when she saw Adym in line with the rest of them, who not once glanced at her as they entered, though she knew he knew she was there.

The king walked up to the three gilded thrones and sat… in the queen’s?

The entire hall fell silent, the air crackling with mixed charges of the most powerful mages in the empire while they waited in bated silence as Casimir sat in the king’s throne.

Dressed in a fine red suit made of a thin dragon leather lined with silver accents on the collar and cuffs, Casimir’s light blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that trailed down his back in a silky ribbon.

He found Ambrose’s gaze immediately and gave her a depraved grin.

She hadn’t seen him since they left for the forest and the look in his eye was anything but subtle as he raised a goblet into the air.

Fucking toying with me. Ambrose pressed her fingers into her corset and breathed a little easier when they found the small golden ring tucked away. You don’t own me, she thought, and though she knew he couldn’t hear her, his eyes flared with excitement.

“Ladies and gentleman, lords and ladies,” Casimir said over the hushed whispers.

“Welcome to another year of the Champion’s Tournament, where we’ll see if any of this year’s prospects have what it takes to become a Champion and attempt the Immortal Trials.

Competing for the highest honor in the empire, forty-two—” So that means more than a few were missing from the lineup “—of the strongest the realm has to offer will fight for a chance to live like one of us in the kingdom of the gods.” He ran his eyes over the crowd but Ambrose could still feel him watching her.

“I know many of you have had a long journey, so please, sit, eat, drink, and celebrate as we bid these brave souls one last night as Trial Champions.” The crowd cheered and he waited patiently for them to finish. “Welcome to the Champion’s Ball.”