Page 22 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)
Chapter 22
Matthias
G eneral Isa led us into a smaller, windowless chamber on the other side of the castle’s foyer, lit only by a handful of oil lamps on the walls and one on a desk at the far end. The general stood behind the desk, her hands resting on the back of a massive armchair as she watched us all file in. Once I clicked the door shut behind me, she cleared her throat.
“While the games have not officially begun, you might consider this your first trial. A pre-trial, perhaps, for all must complete today’s task in order to compete. Those who cannot—for whatever reason—will be escorted promptly off the premises by one of the royal guards, and taken back to their homes. Yes, the guard will accompany you the entire way. This is to ensure not only your safety, but also the sanctity of what you have witnessed here thus far. It is imperative that this entire process remain confidential. You will not speak of it with others, not even once the tournament concludes.”
From my position at the back by the door, I studied my competition, watching to see how each reacted to the general’s rules. Seb, Korben, Oryn, and most of the Arenysen males stood confidently, seemingly unperturbed, while Beck, Rhett, and Graham seemed agitated. I expected as much from Beck, who seemed intent on snapping off some of his fingers with how hard he was wringing them. Rhett, despite his cocky demeanor in the other room, now danced on his feet as though he were standing on hot coals and might bolt at any moment. Unlike them, though, Graham didn’t seem nervous so much as antsy to get moving, his heel tapping rapidly against the floor while his fingers drummed against his arms crossed tightly in front of him.
Stepping to the side of the chair, Isa studied each of us in turn as she continued to explain.
“These are volatile times, as you know, so per the direction of the Assembly—and with the approval of Her Majesty—each competitor must swear a blood oath.” At this a couple of the Arenysens looked nervously at each other, but it was Korben who stepped forward and lifted his chin, a silent request to speak.
Isa gestured for him to proceed.
“Are we expected to basically confess our marriage vows preemptively then? And is this a lifelong oath or?—”
I rolled my eyes. No doubt the general was planning to answer these questions regardless. The corner of the general’s eye twitched, yet her response came out gracious as ever.
“I understand any qualms and concerns you might have, but no, these are not the standard marriage vows, nor do we possess the power to force you to keep this oath for your entire life. In order to compete, you must pledge fealty to the queen and promise to serve all of Arenysen beside her should you be crowned the champion of this tournament. For those who survive but do not win, this oath will be deemed void at that time. You are, of course, expected to honor and respect the outcome of these games.”
“Did you say survive ?” Beck asked, his voice cracking.
Isa nodded solemnly. “Indeed, I did. These are not the games of old with menial tasks and superficial contests. You will be tested, challenged, pushed to your limits, and yes, some of you may lose more than just your pride.”
Well, that answers Lieke’s question about danger.
“Why wasn’t the danger noted in the invitation?” Korben asked.
“Did you truly think we would choose our next king based on how well he could prance around in a suit of armor?” She paused to glance around the room. “Should any of you not be willing to risk your life for this kingdom and its throne, now is your time to bow out.”
No one moved, though a handful of the males shifted their weight nervously.
“What is to hold us to this vow? Some sort of magic?” Seb asked as he stretched his neck out to peer around Korben’s bulky frame.
Isa chuckled softly and shook her head. “No. No magic or anything like that. Simply tradition, honor, and the consequence of death should you break it.”
“Oh,” someone muttered, though I couldn’t determine who.
Smiling kindly, she produced a small vial and held it up for all to see. “This oath is not one-sided though. A drop of the queen’s blood will be combined with a drop of yours to seal this oath for both parties. You vow to compete honorably and swear your unfailing loyalty to her, and she vows to accept you as a competitor and swear her own unfailing loyalty to the victor.”
“How does she do that when she’s not here? How do we know that’s her blood, and not a muskrat’s or something?” This time it was Oryn who asked, but most of the other males nodded along with his questions.
“You will simply have to go on faith and trust my word as General of the Arenysen army that she provided this blood for this purpose and granted me the right to vow by proxy.” Isa’s expression had been almost sweet this entire time, but now it darkened in challenge. “If you cannot accept or believe this, you are free to leave. Now.”
With that final word she swept her arm out in the direction of the door.
Silence, tense and suffocating, filled the room, as we all waited to see who—if anyone—would accept this offer to leave. Beck fidgeted in place, looking at the exit and then back to Isa. Everyone seemed to hold their breath until he moved.
But he didn’t leave.
He pushed past the other males, heading straight for the desk, where he stopped directly in front of the general.
“I’ll be first,” Beck said.
“Very well, Mr. Dixon,” Isa said in her easy manner, but she didn’t move to do anything except stare at him.
“What do you need me to do?”
Isa pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side as she surveyed him for an uncomfortably long moment. She hummed as she thought, of what I couldn’t fathom. What was she waiting for? Why was she hesitating?
“There is one more thing I forgot to mention, and it will most definitely affect you, Mr. Dixon.” The wait for her explanation was agonizing, but the tension didn’t dissipate when she finally spoke. “Your oath includes an agreement—a promise—that you will not use any magic, including any powers beyond those all our kind possess.”
“Wh—what—powers?” Beck stammered out, shrinking slightly away from the desk.
The general’s eyes darkened further as she pressed her fingertips into the desk and leaned closer to the male before her. “We do not take kindly to cheats, Mr. Dixon, and to liars even less so.” She straightened back up and announced to the rest of us: “It is fruitless to try to hide. I, myself, was born with the gift of sensing power—whether it runs in someone’s veins or is wielded from outside of them. All will be granted the opportunity to demonstrate said abilities without fear of dismissal before swearing the oath, but failure to disclose now will be considered a breaking of the oath, and as such, consequences will follow.”
Her attention returned to Beck, whose back stiffened. He shook his head jerkily. “Does it have to be demonstrated? Is the promise alone not sufficient?”
“If you are too ashamed to share what you can do, then I would strongly encourage you reconsider continuing on. The Arenysen throne has no place for cowardice,” Isa explained, flatly.
“Just show us what you can do, Beck,” someone said, and more encouragement poured from those assembled.
Beck sighed heavily before he held his right hand out to his side and opened his palm. At first nothing happened. Everyone inched forward, necks craned to see around each other. Then there, something emerged from the middle of his palm, uncurling as it rose toward the ceiling. In the dim light, it was hard to tell what it was until leaves began to sprout from it. The plant reached a height of half a meter when it finally stopped stretching, and I almost laughed when a few of the males gasped as the tip opened to reveal a bright purple bloom.
With his other hand, Beck plucked the flower and offered it to the general who took it, her lips pulling back into a thin smile as she laid it gently onto the desktop.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now for the blood.”
It took nearly an hour to process every entrant. As expected—given the rarity of fae being born with extra abilities—most swore the blood oath without any additional performances or promises necessary. Only two others, both from Arenysen, were instructed to demonstrate their power.
Fox, a wiry-framed male with a pointed nose and untidy hair the color of mud, had the ability to move far faster than any fae I had met—or any other creature, for that matter. One minute he was standing before the desk, the next he was casually leaning against the back of Isa’s chair.
Phillip, who embodied the definition of plain, at least had a skill to counter his otherwise ordinary appearance. At first, he simply stood there, staring at Isa, and I wondered if perhaps he had a power we couldn’t observe—like telepathy or empathic manipulation—but out of nowhere a whirlwind tore through the room sounding like a roaring dragon in my ears. It circled around us, sending hair and clothes waving and swaying erratically, and nearly knocking over a couple of the smaller males.
“Thank you, Mr. Cannon,” Isa said, and immediately the wind ceased. “Is it only the air you can control?”
When Phillip nodded once, Isa beckoned him forward to perform the oath, leaving Graham and me as the last remaining.
Graham tried to decline my invitation for him to go ahead of me, but General Isa called for him. He sneered, but checked it quickly before Isa could reprimand him, and approached the desk with me close behind. It didn’t take him long to deposit his drop of blood onto the paper the general held out for him, repeating the same words the others had. From the vial, a drop of the queen’s blood fell to the paper beside his as Isa recited the queen’s vow.
The general placed the paper into the flame of the lamp, and the former advisor stepped aside.
“And last but not least,” Isa started, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I apologize I do not know your name, as you arrived so late.”
“Apologies for that, general. I am Matthias. Matthias?—”
“Orelian?” Isa’s brow lifted slightly, a brief sign of surprise as she noted my last name.
“The same,” I said, bowing my head toward her. Behind me someone scoffed. Probably Graham.
“You are the representative from Engle?”
“I am.”
“I wasn’t aware you were from there,” she said as she bent over her paper to jot something down.
“I’m not.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide in question. I quickly explained. “I’m originally from Holsham. Unfortunately, no one from Engle wanted to compete, and rather than force someone to do so against their will, I agreed to go in their stead.”
“Won’t the royal family miss you at the palace though?”
“I do nothing without my king’s blessing, general,” I said simply.
She studied me for several breaths. My stomach knotted and icy dread crept up my spine, though I took care to keep my expression relaxed. Oryn’s mention of mitigating risks flashed to mind. Would she suspect me as an assassin, sent to avenge Brennan’s death? Would she deny me entrance to the competition? If that happened, I would need to find another way to learn the truth, but there was no point in worrying about that until I had to.
The general propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.
“And your king is willing to lose his best warrior. Why?”
I shrugged as I donned a nonchalant frown. “His Majesty thinks I work too much.” One of the other competitors let out a dry huff of a laugh. “He thinks I need to find love.”
General Isa tilted her head and eyed me curiously. “And do you agree? That you need to find love?”
Scratching at the scruff along my jaw, I pushed back the memories of my talk with the king.
“Why does it matter?” I asked. “I don’t recall you asking the others about their reasons.”
“With all due respect, General Orelian, the others don’t hold such close ties to the dead king you are vying to replace.”
“Fair,” I said, chuckling lightly. “In that case, no, I don’t agree that I need to find love. I am quite content with my life as it is; however, I am open to new adventures, and falling in love is one I’ve yet to tackle.”
“And you are ready to denounce your loyalty to the Durand family should you win?”
“I would have walked out already if I wasn’t,” I said, holding her firm gaze.
Again, her dark eyes searched mine as if she would find the truth there. I forced myself to breathe through the long silence, refusing to let her see my slowly fraying nerves.
“Very well, then,” she said finally. She held out her open hand, and without hesitation I placed my hand, face up, in hers. In her other hand she held a simple dagger and brought its sharp tip to hover over my palm. “When you’re ready,” she prompted, and I repeated the words the others had recited earlier.
“Today I, Matthias Orelian, vow to compete honorably for the hand of Calla Vael, queen of Arenysen. Should I prevail in these trials, I pledge my undying loyalty to the queen and all of Arenysen, foregoing allegiances to all others. I understand and acknowledge that this vow and my duty here remains until a victor is named or my heart ceases to beat, whichever may come first.”
As I spoke, Isa pushed the blade’s sharp edge into my hand and sliced it across my calloused palm.
Squeezing my hand closed, I held it over the paper Isa now held out between us. Crimson blood seeped from my fist. I watched the thick drops fall onto the paper as I finished the oath: “With my blood, I bind myself to this tournament, to compete and to serve.”
Isa followed suit, letting two dark beads of blood fall from the vial as she recited the queen’s oath. “With her blood, Her Majesty, Calla Vael, Queen of Arenysen, binds herself to this tournament, to accept your entry and to be loyal to the victor.”
With the vows completed, Isa took the paper—as she had eleven times already—and eased it into the flame.