Page 29 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

W hite 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, I did warn you.” She swiped the clean rag by his bed and dipped it in a bowl of water so hot it made her hands throb.

“That’s true, but how was I… supposed to know you were… telling the truth?” he managed through graveled coughs.

“Try to hold still.” She focused on his chest first, dabbing it clean. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him staring. “What?”

“You’re touching my bare skin,” he said with a crafty grin.

She stopped mid-movement. “Did you plan this?”

He attempted to laugh, but another cough consumed the sound.

“How could I plan to fall through those stairs? No, this is just a lucky turn of events for me. It’s the least you could do since you and your lover teamed up against me.

I should feel flattered that you had to go to such great lengths to beat me; it feels quite unfair, really.

Though I suppose Dawnton being allowed to bribe your men wasn’t quite fair either. ”

She peered up from the wound. He was staring at the tent ceiling, uncharacteristically sober. “It was you who sabotaged his boat, wasn’t it?” she said quietly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the gratification in his eyes said otherwise. He cleared his throat, coughing again. “So, are you going to help me?” He looked at his wound, then at her, reinstating his famous grin. “You did say you would if I were ever bleeding out.”

He was pushing his luck, but an unsolicited warmth spread in her chest as she dipped a separate rag in alcohol. He winced as she brought it to the edge of his gash.

“Not the kind of touch you were hoping for, is it? Wait ’til I get the thread and needle.”

An hour later, the court gathered beneath three large tents sandwiched together for the placement announcements.

The sun had dropped, diving for the tree line, blocking the view of the sea just beyond.

Thankfully, the warm air had turned crisp as the wind picked up, sending a fresh breeze over the camp.

A small wooden platform was positioned at the center of the tent, where the council, the king, and the contestants stood.

Tristan’s and Rose’s men remained just behind them on the wooden platform, still wearing their respective uniforms. After all, this victory was as much theirs as it was hers and Tristan’s.

Rose’s mother, the queen, and Harriet sat in the front row.

Harriet’s smile beamed brighter than it had in days, and even the queen seemed cheery.

Meanwhile, the Vertmerian queen and princess remained present, their usual guards, dressed in green uniforms, surrounding them.

She was still perplexed as to why they were entertaining the succession at all; perhaps the peace treaty negotiations were faltering, as Lord Barron had suggested.

She didn’t have long to dwell on the thought as the king began to speak.

“The first succession challenge is concluded!” King Henrik proclaimed from the elevated wooden platform. “This is a challenge that will be remembered for generations. We take pride in the valor displayed by each contestant today. In fourth place, we have Emmett with thirty-eight points!”

The audience broke out in applause.

“In third place, with forty-six points, is Dawnton! In second place, with fifty-eight points, is Grant! And in first place, with sixty-two points each, are Tristan and Rose!”

Tristan grasped her hand and raised it high in victory. After which, they encouraged their men to bow as a fresh wave of applause erupted. Roman squeezed his way through to stand next to Tristan, clapping him on the shoulder, exchanging broad smiles.

The applause echoed in the fields until the king resumed speaking. “In closing, I want to leave off with a treat. I’ve witnessed a creature like this only once in my life as a young boy.” He signaled for the servants to bring forth the surprise.

She almost didn’t believe what she saw.

Two men carried a phoenix to the wooden podium. Gasps of awe spread at the sight of the magical creature. Its yellow, orange, and red feathers shone so vibrant they seemed to emit their own light, shimmering brightly in the warm rays of the setting sun.

“I can still recall the song it sang, and how it inspired me to face my own succession challenges. Tonight, we all have the rare honor of listening to it sing.” The king stepped back, and everyone applauded as the servants held it high.

Everyone’s attention remained fixed on the phoenix when a bad feeling twisted in her gut, creeping into Rose’s senses, like a premonition. She scoured the crowd, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She brushed the feeling aside.

A hush fell over the tents as the phoenix unfurled its majestic wings, displaying its proud feathers. It opened its beak and began singing a melody so pure and clear she swore the tune captivated every creature close enough to hear.

Another wave of foreboding coursed through her, more urgent this time. She scanned the audience again. Still nothing. Maybe it was just the remaining adrenaline from the first challenge that kept her on edge.

She almost dismissed the feeling again until yet another wave consumed her, more powerful this time, like a pulse of energy that she could follow, guiding her gaze along the tree line.

She froze at what she saw.

At the heart of the aura, a hooded figure crouched on a branch concealed by the foliage.

He was so well camouflaged, she would have missed him entirely if she hadn’t sensed the energy.

Although he was too distant to make out his face, icy-blue eyes flashed from beneath his dark hood.

She could have sworn he resembled—no, it couldn’t be.

Xavier?

The unknown figure swiftly readied a bow and arrow, directing his aim at Tristan as the phoenix’s song faded into its final notes.

She spun to warn Tristan, but Roman stood between them, blocking her way. She wouldn’t have time to reach him.

“Roman, the trees!”

Whether it was the way her nails dug into his forearm or the sheer panic in her voice, Roman acted without hesitation, springing into action just as the phoenix’s last note dissipated into the air.

If she had blinked, she would’ve missed what happened next entirely.

Roman pushed Rose behind him before propelling himself in front of Tristan, shoving him down, raising his shield. The black-tipped arrow flew with such speed that it blasted right through Roman’s shield, leaving a deep scratch on his forearm before it stopped, narrowly missing his face.

A scream pierced the air, alerting the crowd. Chaos ensued as everyone scattered, seeking shelter from the anonymous attacker.

Tristan jumped to his feet, eyes widening. Roman had saved his life.

“Stay low,” Roman instructed, yanking out the arrow that had pierced his shield. “There may be more.”

Her eyes raced back to the trees, but there was nothing but branches swaying in the wind.

A hand landed on her arm, making her jump. “Zareb!” she gasped in relief.

“Get her out of here,” Tristan ordered, whipping out his sword and shield.

Zareb didn’t need to be told twice. He dragged her away from the platform and charged for the castle.

“Zareb, my mother,” she said as she ran with him.

“She’s waiting for us,” Zareb assured. He led her to the camp’s perimeter, where her mother and two horses waited for them.

“Rose! Thank the gods!” her mother cried, hugging her.

“Come on,” Zareb urged, grabbing Rose’s waist without permission and hoisting her up on the horse.

“I’ll ride with your mother,” Zareb said. “Stay close and avoid riding in a straight line in case there are more.” He sent her steed off with a smack.