Page 58 of The Throne Seeker

She didn’t argue as she draped his arm back over her shoulders, shuffling their way down the rest of the dark hallway.

Finally, they came upon what she could only assume was the old throne room. The ceiling had all but collapsed, letting the sun pour its light onto the timeworn stone throne at the heart ofthe room. A lone, rusted, cobweb-covered, full-length mirror sat in the corner, shrouded in a thick layer of dust.

This place felt… familiar somehow, like a remnant of a long-lost memory. She gazed upon the throne, feeling a ghostly breeze in the air as something stirred inside her. It tugged at her like an invisible string, like… like it was supposed to be hers.

The sun relic was nowhere in sight.

She left Tristan near the entrance and quickly began searching the room, examining each pillar, searching under every stone, scanning the scorched remnants of the throne. Nothing. Her throat bobbed.

“It’s not here,” she whispered, letting her hand slide off the dusty throne.

“That’s impossible,” Tristan said, limping over to help her look. “It has to be here.”

She glanced back at the crumbled staircase entrance. Grant hadn’t discovered it either. Or maybe he just assumed it wasn’t there because they had yet to find it. But soon enough, Emmett and Dawnton would arrive to add to the chaos, and they’d have a brawl on their hands.

She muttered a curse under her breath. Perhaps they had looked too hastily. Perhaps she had?—

A subtle multicolored glow caught her eye, like an invisible bubble or force field hovering above the throne.A glamour.She remembered them from her studies on magical artifacts. A form of old magic wielded long before she was born. They must have discovered something to create the glamour, but what? She swept her eyes over her surroundings again, seeing if?—

Of course!

She marched straight up to the aged mirror. Using her sleeve, she wiped away the dust to unveil a bright reflection. Her eyes combed the image, examining it. She spotted a tiny sparkle. There, hanging off the half-charred stone throne, was the relic.

Her mouth broke into a triumphant smile. “Tristan!”

She helped drag him over to see for himself. His eyes filled with awe, looking back and forth between the reflection and the stone throne. “How in Vallor did you know?”

“I saw the glamour, and I remembered our lessons about enchanted objects.”

Tristan’s lips grazed the top of her head. “You arebrilliant, Rose. Brilliant.”

She didn’t disagree, shrugging with a proud grin.

The pair didn’t waste a moment as she supported Tristan over to the weathered throne.

“Together?” Tristan said with a conquering smile.

“Together,” she agreed.

At the same time, they stretched out their hands, grasping the relic as it materialized.

CHAPTER 26

White tents sat pitched in the open fields, nestled between the woods and the ruins, caring for the injured participants. Campfires blazed as servants flitted back and forth, readying the celebration following the challenge. Rose wanted to be the one to attend to Tristan’s leg, but another healer insisted she be brought to a separate tent for her own examination despite her reassurance that she was perfectly fine.

Once the healer and her mother had finished fussing, she checked on Tristan. His family and a few others had already swarmed his tent. So she made herself useful by helping those suffering from burns from the fire arrows.

She’d just gotten done tending to a third-degree burn when a healer stepped out of a far tent. “Rose! This one is asking for you!”

Curious, she wiped her hands on her apron and entered the tent. She peered down at the man on the cot; despite the thick layer of dust covering him, the emerald-green eyes stood out at once.Grant. A large gash had sliced his chest and cheekbone from the fall. Both of which were bleeding out onto the cot.

“Hello, Rose.” His signature smile was still fixed in place despite looking like he had just emerged from a grave. “I was just wondering if you might be kind enough to sew me up.”

She hesitated in the doorway but dragged her feet to the cot. A small sliver of guilt formed for not stopping to check if he was alright after he fell through the staircase.

As if he knew, he said, “You’re not going to even fight me on it?” His smile widened. “The guilt must be eating you alive.”

With narrowed eyes, she grabbed a fresh apron, threw it on, and washed her hands. “In all fairness, Ididwarn you.” She swiped the clean rag by his bed and dipped it in a bowl of water so hot it made her hands throb.