Page 82 of The Throne Seeker

“These runes will help guide you to your path,” the seer said. “Whenever you require strength or courage, wear it. Never forget the power your rune holds.”

The council’s murmurs filled the hut as they exchanged whispers, trying to interpret her bindrune for themselves. However, it seemed they were no more knowledgeable than she was. Lord Barron, in particular, stared at it intensely as if committing it to memory.

The seer retrieved a different set of bowls from the ground. “Take this,” she instructed, holding out two separate bowls of green liquid to each of them. “Drink all of it. But once you do, I must warn you, there is no going back. It’ll do you no good to try to resist its effects.”

Tristan and Rose accepted the bowls and examined their contents. “What does it do exactly?” Tristan inquired, his wary eyes fixed on the green liquid.

“It helps us to see you—the real you. It will unveil your soul, urging you to speak nothing but your truth,” the seer said. “You’ll feel it draw out your innermost thoughts, beliefs, andemotions. Be warned, it is powerful; not all who take it can cope with its effects.”

Emmett’s pale face came to the forefront of her mind, making her queasy.

Tristan peered at the green liquid again before raising the cup to his lips. He downed it, his face contorting, then handed the cup back.

Rose poured the contents into her mouth, grimacing at the bitterness. Once she had, they sat on the pillows across the fire from the seer. The intense heat of the thick flames made her undergarments damp with sweat.

As soon as she settled onto the cushion, the effects of the lotus crept in. Her mind twisted and warped, just as Zareb had warned. Rather than resist the pull, she surrendered to it, allowing the power to flow freely through the floodgates.

“Give me your hand,” the seer instructed Tristan, holding her fragile hand out—it appeared he was going first.

Fearlessly, Tristan stretched out his hand. The seer took his palm, tracing the crevasses with her crooked fingers. “I see you, Tristan Montague. I hear your thoughts, hopes, and dreams. I feel your desires and cravings. I see your darkest thoughts and greatest fears… Now tell us, what drives your ambition to be the king of Cathan?”

Tristan gazed into the fire, his mouth opening and closing, trying to form words as if he were learning to speak again. “Because I believe I am what Cathan needs,” Tristan responded. “I love my province. I find joy in serving and protecting it—from its enemies, even from itself. It’s what I strive to do, and it’s what I will always strive to do.”

The king and queen’s eyes swelled with pride, their hands clasped together in relief.

“I see you as a natural leader of men,” the seer observed. “You’ve led before. You earn the trust and loyalty of yourmen—something that takes a true leader to obtain. I see you desperately wish to be king. You believe it is your destiny. You also harbor a lot of guilt—guilt for men lost, guilt for your younger brother almost dying in your place… Though your true guilt is reserved for what happened to your eldest brother.”

Tristan’s eyes hardened as they flashed at the woman in surprise. Rose waited for the seer to expand, but to her disappointment, she did not.

“That guilt has guided and driven your need for power and control,” she continued. “I see you are impulsive and quick to anger. You must learn to control it or you’ll drown in your own self-loathing. There’s also something that has a firm hold over you… or is it someone?” The seer’s eyes searched the empty air, then snapped to Rose. “A woman,” she whispered. “One in this very room. I saw her in the mind of the contestant before you… You love her.”

Tristan’s guarded eyes flickered with fear, sweat dripping off his jaw. It was happening—exactly what Rose was afraid of.

The council leaned forward like greedy beasts honing in on their wounded prey.

Rose stared into the fire to mask her fear. This wasn’t fair. They had no right to pry into their minds. She was a fool to think they wouldn’t twist this to their advantage. They would exploit every weakness they could.

She took deep breaths, steadying her shaky hands, remembering Zareb’s advice to keep her mind clear.

The seer continued, “I see why you are so entrapped by her. You’ve wanted her since you laid eyes on her as a boy. But now… now you want her more than you’ve ever wanted anything. Which makes you incredibly dangerous.”

Tristan’s body stiffened. “She has nothing to do with my worthiness to be king.”

“She has everything to do with it,” the seer rebutted, her gaze floating from Rose back to him. “I can feel how much you desire her. It’s intoxicating to you, a poison. I see why you face such an internal struggle. You feel as though your life is being pulled in two different directions.”

Tristan withdrew his hand. “That’s not—” he attempted to protest, but his mouth stopped him. The lotus’s influence only allowed him to utter the truth.

The seer didn’t need his palm to continue. “If you don’t learn to regulate your passion for her, it will consume you. It’ll drive you to do unspeakable things. It’s time you admit these feelings to yourself and learn how to control them, or you’ll lose yourself in the process.”

Sweat dripped from his brow like rain, desperate to resist. However, the lotus held firm against him. He shifted his gaze from the seer, focusing instead on the flames, gritting his teeth.

But the seer wasn’t done with him. “You need to answer this, Tristan, for yourself more than anyone in this room… Are you afraid of losing her?”

His jaw clenched, reluctant to answer, but she knew the room’s heat and the lotus’s influence would win in the end.

“It’s best not to fight it, Tristan,” the seer prodded.

“Yes,” he blurted out, resentful that she’d made him admit it. “I’m afraid to lose her. Is that so wrong? My ability to love will not impede my ability to rule.”