Page 21 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)

Chapter 21

Matthias

B ack in Emeryn I was used to keeping to the background, staying behind the royal family, always quietly observant. I only stood out and spoke up when needed, but this tournament demanded a different approach.

What that approach exactly was, though, I hadn’t yet decided. Whatever strategy I devised depended greatly on my competition, all eleven of whom stood scattered about the large room I now entered.

A trio of males—one notably larger and more confident than his companions—gathered near one of the windows, giving me little more than a cursory glance as I walked in. While I didn’t recognize the obvious leader or the scrawny male beside him, I instantly identified the third—a dark-haired male of average height—as Korben from Linley. He was a close friend of the late Griffin Ford, the fae noble who had inadvertently brought Connor and Lieke together by attacking the woman—multiple times—and dying at her hand.

In the middle of the large space, five other males of varying statures halted their conversation to gawk at me, or rather to glare straight down their noses at me. By their air of superiority and the silver ivy design embroidered at the hem of their sleeves, I surmised they were all from Arenysen, and likely felt that garnered them some favor in these games. Knowing their general, though, I doubted that to be the case.

The remaining three contenders stood alone, speaking to no one and watching everyone, including me. In the corner with slick-backed hair and an equally oily grin was Seb, former mayor of Engle, looking as self-important as the Arenysen males. Against the wall by the window nearest to me leaned a member of the Holsham garrison, Oryn Lain, his blond hair and downturned blue eyes giving him a youthful, but sad, appearance. While he had completed his initial training under me—as all garrison members did—I didn’t know him too well. The last, a lanky male with graying dark brown hair and a suspicious look in his eyes, was situated near the dais where two thrones sat empty, a solemn reminder of why I was here. He had his arms crossed smugly in front of him, as if he had already claimed the throne and needed to guard it from the rest of us.

The invitation to these games had made it clear this competition would not be like the frivolous “beauty” contests of old, but the challenges we would face had not been disclosed. Regardless, alliances could make or break my chances at succeeding—or at least remaining long enough to learn more about the queen. The already formed groups would be nearly impossible to weasel my way into, which left the three loners. I could choose one as a partner or attempt to bring them together. It was too soon to determine which would be the best move, so I resorted to approaching the one nearest me—Oryn.

The male stiffened as I approached, lifting himself off the wall. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, but he held my gaze as he spoke in an even tone. “If I knew I’d be competing against you, I would have stayed home.” He extended a hand toward me. “Oryn Lain, from Holsham. I trained under you years ago.”

Shaking his offered hand, I offered him an easy smile. “I remember. Call me Matthias.”

Oryn’s brows shot toward his hairline, and I half-expected his mouth to fall open. “Of course, s—I mean—Matthias.” He uttered my name like he wasn’t sure I truly wanted him to use it.

I cast a look around the room. “Weren’t there to be thirteen of us?”

“Last never showed,” he answered with a shrug. “One less to beat.”

“Indeed.”

“At least you made it in time.”

He looked at me expectantly, as if I owed him some explanation for my late arrival. I didn’t offer one. “Do you know any of these guys?”

“I only knew Seb and Rhett”—he gestured toward the big fae standing with Korben by the window—“before arriving. Not well, though they’re both from Emeryn. I’ve gotten acquainted with the others over the last few days.”

I swore under my breath. I had arrived later than I thought.

Oryn laughed dryly. “At least you weren’t late like number thirteen.”

“Have you all met our potential bride yet?” I asked, wondering how much of a disadvantage my delay had earned me.

“Not formally, no. That general of hers is mitigating risks, it seems.”

I lifted a brow at him. “What kind of risks exactly?”

He smirked around a scoff. “Maybe they worry one of us has come to kill her.”

“What?” I asked sharply and pulled my mouth into a grimacing frown. “Why would they suspect that?”

Another laugh answered me before he added, “Stars if I know.” He paused to study me for a brief moment before aiming a finger hesitantly at my chest. “Wait, didn’t you meet her on your way in?”

I nodded, still frowning.

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “What was she like? Is she as intimidating as she seems?”

I became acutely aware of the others’ silent stares as they all awaited my response. Oryn hadn’t been as discreet as he’d intended, it seemed. Rubbing my jaw, I weighed my possible answers. I could make her sound terrifying to scare the weak-hearted, but I didn’t want to lie about her—at least not when I had other options. There was always the brush-off tactic of downplaying the power she wielded and the confidence she—mostly—displayed, even after having her ass dropped into the dirt and leaves. This would perhaps help boost my own image, but acting as if her reputation was unwarranted seemed wrong too.

That left me with the truth—most of it, anyway.

“I wouldn’t say intimidating, but she certainly embodies her royal title,” I finally said.

“Is it true you carried her to the castle though?” This question came from behind me, and I turned to see the shorter male had moved away from Rhett and Korben toward me.

“And you are?” I asked politely.

“Beck Dixon,” he chirped, and then rushed to add more. “From Shoerda.”

Nodding, I answered his earlier question. “I did, yes.”

“Why?” another male asked, one of the Arenysen five.

I didn’t bother to ask his name before answering. “It was the right thing to do.”

A bark of a laugh came from the window. Korben’s stare intensified. He shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin. “Right or not, what happened to warrant such an act?”

Whispers filled the room as the others insisted on knowing the answer to that too.

I recounted the situation just as I had to the general, and when I finished, some of the males shrugged and turned away. I guess my story wasn’t as deliciously scandalous as they had hoped.

“You’re lucky,” one of the Arenysen five said, shaking his head of blond curls, his baby blue eyes wide.

“What do you mean?” I asked, though I had a decent guess.

One of his companions—a tall, slim male with a hooked nose like a hawk—spoke first. “You know what her shadows are capable of, right?”

Slowly, I nodded, looking around the room at the males who still studied me. “So?” I asked, but even as I uttered the word, that damned image snapped into my head of Gabriel being cut down on that old battlefield by a different Shadow Keeper’s magic.

Silence answered my question, and I angled my head quizzically at the gathered males. “If you’re all so afraid of her shadows, why enter this tournament?”

I certainly didn’t expect honest responses from them all—stars, I couldn’t give a truthful reason myself—but I wasn’t prepared for what each male said.

The five from Arenysen shared a quick glance before answering in unison, “The Assembly made us.”

Seb and Rhett, on the other hand, both viewed this as an opportunity they couldn’t pass up, while Beck entered to save his family who struggled to make enough to live on. Winning the Arenysen crown would keep them fed for the rest of their lives.

Oryn merely shrugged, as if he’d entered out of boredom.

Korben snorted out a laugh—he seemed to do that a lot—before sharing how he’d been selected by his hometown as punishment for all the trouble he’d caused. Something in the back of my mind clicked as I recalled the mayor of Linley requesting royal aid to keep some uncouth rascal from pursuing his daughter.

Only one male remained unmoved from his original spot by the dais, silently staring at the rest of us as if we were muck he had just wiped from his boot. He seemed less a warrior than even the small-framed Beck, and from the paleness of his skin, I imagined he rarely stepped foot outside. I couldn’t fathom how he expected to fare well in the upcoming trials; though again, I had no idea what they had in store for us. The hint of cockiness in this male’s slight smile piqued my curiosity. He was obviously from Arenysen, as he too had silver ivy leaves adorning his sleeves, and he was quite comfortable assuming a position so close to the royal thrones. Whoever he was, he acted as though he held an advantage over the rest of us.

I lifted my chin as I eyed him. “And what of you? What’s your name? Where are you from?”

The male blinked slowly like my questions exhausted him, but his dark, steely eyes remained fixed on me. His suspicion was almost palpable, but when he finally spoke, his voice was cordial, sweet even.

I didn’t like it.

“Graham Harrison, advisor to the royal family of Arenysen.”

Seb angled himself around Rhett and asked, “So are you here as an advisor or—” He stopped short when Graham shook his head.

“No, I will be competing, same as you,” he answered, his lips curling up into a half-yet-genuine-enough smile.

“How is that fair?” Korben asked bitterly. Several around me nodded along as they watched Graham.

But it wasn’t Graham who answered. Instead a confident voice—light yet commanding—pulled our attention to the door behind me where General Isa now stood, her hand resting lightly on her sword’s pommel.

“I assure you all that Mr. Harrison will be receiving no preferential treatment in these games.” She paused to land her stern glare on the advisor-turned-suitor, as if she were silently scolding him. “As you may have noticed, our thirteenth entrant has not arrived by the deadline, leaving us with you dozen. If there are no further questions, we are ready to complete the official registration. Follow me.”

Korben moved first and the others all fell into line behind him. Graham and I brought up the rear, and I gestured graciously for him to go ahead of me, but he stopped short and angled his head.

“I don’t trust you,” he said quietly, his tone uncomfortably casual for his words.

I shrugged. “It would be odd if you did.”

He dropped a heavy hand to my shoulder, and I frowned down at it.

When I glanced back at him, he hissed through his sneer, “I don’t know what game you’re playing at?—”

I blinked in confusion and pulled my lips lower. “This is the tournament for the queen’s hand, is it not? Would be so embarrassing if I showed up to the wrong games.”

He scoffed. “That tongue of yours will get you in trouble.” Before I could offer another witty retort, he pivoted on his heel and darted off after the others.