Page 27 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

R ose braced herself at the sight of the roaring water. It was unusually high for this time of year, remnants of the harsh winter reinforcing its depths. The rapid current crashed against the massive boulders, sending echoes through the tall, slender trees.

In the midst of this raw power, a smooth body of water lay at the edge of the river, cradling five large boats.

Each of them bore the designated House flags.

In addition to Tristan’s red griffin, Dawnton’s green serpent, and Rose’s blue dragon, she spotted Grant’s brown griffin and Emmett’s purple wolf, waving proudly in the wind.

Roman dismounted first, not bothering to extend a hand to assist her down. She didn’t need it, gracefully dismounting the horse on her own.

She didn’t waste a moment before she strode to join the others waiting by the riverbank, trying to leave him in the dust.

Roman’s voice cut through the silence, his powerful strides easily keeping up with her pace. “Just so you know, most women in Cathan don’t know how to ride a horse like that… or feel like that.” His words hung in the air, thick with suspicion.

Her stomach sank, but she kept walking with quick strides. “And how is that?” Rose played it off, putting on her gloves.

“Like a soldier.”

Her cheeks flushed at how closely he’d been paying attention. “My mother’s always complained that I’m a tomboy.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. Thankfully, he didn’t have time to pursue it as they reached the crowd.

After regrouping, she and the other participants clambered into the rowboats.

She squashed the growing fear that threatened to take over as she took her place at the front.

She spotted her mother among the spectators on the riverbank, including the royal family and the queen and princess of Vertmere.

Behind them, the rest of the court eagerly waited for the challenge to begin.

Her mother frowned at the sight of several of Tristan’s men in her boat. Rose managed to give her the brightest smile possible, trying to soothe her mother’s worries along with her own.

The king and all twelve council members were the last to arrive, making their way to the shore.

Lord Martin looked especially smug until he spotted Tristan’s men in her boat.

A blink later, he stomped over to the king, jabbing a grubby finger in her direction.

Although she couldn’t overhear their discussion over the river, it was clear that Lord Martin’s argument held no weight.

The king did nothing about it. Lord Martin’s expression curdled like sour milk.

The king treaded for the docks, yelling over the rushing river.

“Today’s challenge is simple.” He held up a golden replica of the sun relic of Cathan.

“Retrieve this first, and you win the challenge. You must row upstream, cross the firewall, and locate the sun relic hidden in the ancient ruins. A true leader never abandons his men. Therefore, all of your men must be present at the ruins when you capture the relic, or you will lose points. No killing is allowed under any circumstances. Any who commit the crime will also meet the same fate.” The king’s threatening gaze ran over all of them.

“We’ll begin at the sound of the cannon.

Good luck to you all.” He raised the flag in his hand. “ To succession! ”

“ To succession! ” they roared back.

She glanced fleetingly at Tristan, his boat anchored beside hers. He gave her an encouraging nod, though his white knuckles clutching his oar gave him away.

On the opposite side sat Grant, who winked at her. Emmett and Dawnton, further down, wore only scowls, their enraged eyes fixed on Tristan’s men in her boat.

“On your mark,” King Henrik called, holding the white flag higher.

The moment the king lowered the flag, a thunderous cannon blast erupted through the forest, startling a flock of geese into flight. The contestants sprang into action as she plunged her oar into the water and rowed as if her life depended on it.

She and Tristan were the first out of the docks, but only by a fraction. She would deny it until her last breath if anyone asked, but in those first crucial moments, she was glad to have Roman’s lethal arm strength on her side as they surged upriver.

She risked a quick glance back. Grant was tailing her closely, while Dawnton and Emmett lagged behind, with Dawnton edging slightly ahead, taking longer to enter the current.

She pushed her arms to go faster, clutching her oar with a death grip, throwing her upper body into it.

They had only made it a few yards down the river when she heard shouting.

Her head whipped back. Dawnton’s boat had slowed to a sluggish pace, taking on water as he bellowed orders at his men.

She hadn’t the faintest idea how that could have happened so quickly until she saw Grant parading a smirk.

The accumulating water in his boat forced Dawnton to devote half his men to bailing it out with buckets, allowing Emmett to advance.

She did her best not to gloat about it.

Halfway down the river, Grant’s boat pulled ahead of hers, a broad smile appearing on his face as he passed.

Gritting her teeth, she rowed faster. Despite her fear threatening to lock her joints, she managed to keep her eyes off the raging water.

Her arms screamed with exhaustion by the time she saw the dock. Tristan’s men reached land first, with Grant at his heels. She and her men docked next. She didn’t spare a glance to see how far back Emmett was as they scrambled out of the boat.

She didn’t need to tell them to run. The moment their feet touched dry land, they were off in a sprint.

She found a steady rhythm, mindfully managing her breathing, pushing her legs to move faster, suddenly grateful for the miles Zareb forced her to run during their early-morning sessions.

She had always been a decent runner, but today—today, she soared faster than the wind.

Her feet barely scraped the ground, attributing her speed to the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

When they cleared the tree line, they were met by a high stone wall at the edge of the forest—the remnants of the first castle of Cathan. It meant the ruins weren’t far past this point.

Five ropes hung off the wall, along with their House flags, equally spread apart from each other. Guarding the battlement wall was a group of soldiers who bore no colors. They were firing fire arrows at Grant’s and Tristan’s men, already clambering up the ropes.

“Raise your shields!” she shouted, raising her own high as they plowed for the thick rope hovering atop her flag. One by one, they climbed, scaling it while swerving to dodge the fire arrows.

She remained on the ground, letting her men go first to confirm they all made it over. The relentless fire arrows continued to rain down, making it difficult for them to scale quickly. She had to do something.

“We need to take out the arrows,” Roman advised popping up next to her, sidestepping one just in time.

“Thank you, I’m well aware,” she snapped, already thinking of a plan. “You stay here and make sure everyone gets over. I’ll bring Zareb and take out the fire arrows.”

Together, she and Zareb climbed. Halfway up, her arms started to tremble, still weary from the river. She pushed on, shifting the brunt of her weight to her legs, dodging an arrow aimed for her shoulder. She twisted to the side, with Zareb mimicking her below.

She peeked over her shoulder to see how Grant was faring. He was already atop the wall, taking out the fire arrows for his side. Meanwhile, Tristan’s forces were nearly all over the wall. She needed to act quickly if they were to combine forces at the ruins as planned.

When they reached the summit, she and Zareb unsheathed their swords and disarmed the three men with fire arrows.

Another soldier rushed her, but within a few moments, she sent his sword flying from his hands, slicing off his yellow life flag, forcing him to surrender.

Meanwhile, Zareb fought the other two, bringing them to their knees.

She still had five men below, including Roman, but to her dismay, Dawnton’s and Emmett’s men had now joined them at the wall—Emmett’s men brawling with Grant’s on the ground.

Unlike the others, Dawnton’s men weren’t all climbing.

Instead, he split his group into two, sending some upward while he led a handful in another direction toward… Roman.

“Look out!” she shouted over the battlement wall.

Roman spun in the nick of time to deflect Dawnton’s blow, fighting him and four others off while allowing the tail end of their party to climb.

Dawnton seemed determined to push past Roman, but why?

Why fight them instead of focusing on getting over the wall himself?

Then it hit her—Dawnton was trying to sever her rope.

She quickly handed over the bow and arrows to Zareb. “Try to shoot them down. I’ll be back.”

Without another thought, she raced down the stony ramparts, passing through Tristan and Grant’s turrets. Dodging their men as fast as she could, aiming straight for Dawnton’s turret.

Dawnton spotted her, shouting a warning to his men climbing, but it was too late.

She reached his turret just in time to sever the rope before his first man could reach the top.

It sent all four of them back to the ground with a loud thud.

She struck down his flag along with it, tossing it onto a torch for good measure.

Her defiant stare bore into Dawnton’s. He glared back with vicious eyes, letting out a frustrated roar.

A smirk sadistic enough to rival Grant’s claimed her lips.

Dawnton ripped into his bow and arrow, yanking it back as he aimed. She dashed away, evading the arrows as she fled.

She returned to her turret, finding her men had not only ascended the wall but were already down the other side, waiting for her. She maneuvered herself over the parapet wall, letting the rope glide between her fingers, the friction warming her palms.

She braced for impact, but strong arms caught her before her feet touched the ground.

She looked up, only to be thrown into a bottomless sea, plunging straight into Tristan’s eyes. And for once, she wasn’t afraid of the tranquility of the water. She wished to linger in its depths, to dive deeper and be so consumed by the vastness that she had no desire to escape.

She was ripped to the surface for air as Tristan’s mouth lifted into a glorious smile. “Come on, warrior princess. Emmett’s men are holding off Grant, but not for long. We have a clear shot.” He set her down, sliding his hand into hers.

She gripped it back with all the strength she possessed, and together, they ran like hell’s fury for the ruins.