Page 38 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he sky hung low with a thick layer of gray clouds as the party trekked their way to the sea cliffs.

Rose had only been there a handful of times—warned by her mother that more than one innocent soul had met their death along its edges.

But every time she saw the elevated view, she stopped to stare.

From here, she could see the Meridian Sea spread for miles, its waves dancing like silk in the wind or rippling sand across the desert.

The sheer vastness terrified her while simultaneously reminding her of home.

This home. The home she had built here. And she intended to keep it.

An excessive number of guards guided the small group, taking no chances.

The king and queen led the way with the high council, followed closely by the five contestants.

Tristan was solemn and withdrawn, while Dawnton and Emmet each wore a brave poker face, though their stiff frames exposed their hands.

Grant, on the other hand, whistled without a care in the world, giving her a playful wink when he caught her eye.

A small cluster of emerald-green uniforms stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the red and gold. The foreign queen strutted at the center with a grotesque look on her face, while her daughter’s curious gaze seemed quite intrigued by the whole ordeal.

Zareb and her mother walked alongside her as the wind whipped at their skirts, regretting her decision to wear the pink dress. Rose had to pin her arms to her thighs to keep it from flying up.

“I hope it doesn’t rain,” her mother complained, taming her own dress and glowering at the gray sky. “Why did they have to pick the cliffs?”

“I don’t think they wanted another incident like the woods,” Zareb said. “This is open land. Not nearly as many hiding spots for an attack, and we have the high ground.”

“Unless someone wants to push us off the edge,” Rose pointed out.

Her mother shot her a terrifying glare. “Of course you’d put that into my mind.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Zareb said. “We’ll be a safe distance from the edge.”

An octagon-shaped hut waited for them. A plume of smoke escaped the narrow chimney, which the wind immediately swept to claim. The door was closed, leaving it a mystery as to what lay inside. A fair distance away sat a large white tent for them to wait for the duration of the challenge.

Once they had all gathered around the hut, the king addressed the small company.

“This is where the contestants will perform the challenge. Unless you are invited to enter, we ask you to wait in the tent until the challenge is completed. We’ll begin with the contestant who finished last in the first trial.

This puts the order as Emmett first, then Dawnton, followed by Grant, then Tristan, and lastly Rose. Let us begin… Emmett.”

Emmett held his chin high, striding through the threshold of the hut with Beth and his parents. The king and the high council followed, filing in one by one after them.

“Now we wait.” Her mother sighed, already bored, heading towards the white tent for warmth. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” Rose replied, wanting a better look at the view.

Zareb watched her mother march away with concern.

“She’s terrified of heights,” Rose said, explaining her mother’s foul mood. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

He nodded. “Stay where I can see you.”

She strolled toward the gray horizon, approaching the edge as close as she dared. She took a deep, medicinal breath, closing her eyes and letting the cool wind brush over her skin as the hem of her pink dress swept around her feet.

She had never traveled outside of Cathan, nor explored much of her home province, for that matter.

Every time she’d expressed the desire to see more, her mother had quickly squashed the idea, insisting it wasn’t safe or proper for two women to travel alone.

It was an excuse; her mother had never been fond of traveling and grew near frantic at the mere mention of the idea, so Rose had stopped mentioning it.

Looking back, she supposed the real reason might have been their financial situation.

For the first time, she gazed out into the depths of the sea without fear.

Instead, she felt something… calling to her.

Like a mysterious being was summoning her from the void, liberating her, as if she could travel wherever she pleased.

She envisioned crossing the seas to Eristan, visiting the tribes of Semaria, or meditating in the tranquility of the Ostlyn temples under the beautiful cherry blossom trees she had only read about in books.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grant praised from behind.

She didn’t turn to look at him as she replied, “I like it.” She tamed her windblown hair behind her ear. “It makes the day feel less ominous.”

“Quite.” He stepped beside her, his eyes fixed on the horizon, shifting his broad shoulders, nearly large enough to compete with Zareb’s or Roman’s.

She felt a pair of eyes searing into her back. She peeked over her shoulder to see who it was. She wished she hadn’t. Tristan and Roman stood side by side near the opening of the tent, Tristan glowering at the pair with envy, while Roman glared, irritated by the distraction.

“It’s good for the council to see you with someone else right now,” Grant said. “Now more than ever. Our minds are about to be dissected under a microscope. Perhaps they won’t ask about you if you’re no longer a weakness for him.”

“Am I not a weakness for you?” she asked, cocking an eye brow, taunting him.

A seriousness crept into his eyes as he frowned.

“I told you once I only pursued you to get underneath Tristan’s skin, but…

I have, in fact, started to grow wildly attracted to you and your fire.

When you confided in me last night, it had me foolishly hoping it was a sign you wouldn’t be so unhappy if you ended up with me after all.

So to answer your question, no. You’re not a weakness to me, not yet. Although you very well could be.”

Grant spoke in a way that would’ve made any other young maiden swoon, but it only made her shift her gaze, catching a glimpse of Grant’s parents as they lingered near the tent.

They, like Grant, regarded everyone with an air of superiority, convinced that they were destined to become the next royal family.

They must think she was at least somewhat of a good match to let him continue pursuing her.

She didn’t doubt her potential chance at the throne, and the fortune they assumed she had played a significant role in their approval.

How little they knew.

“I like how open we are,” Grant admitted, twisting her guilt further. “I feel like we understand one another. So I will be truthful with you like you were with me. The high council, Lord Martin in particular, came to me and told me if I do become king, it’d be in my best interest not to marry you.”

Her eyes bounded to his, wondering if she’d heard him right. “They what?”

“You scare them for some reason.” He scanned her up and down as if asking himself what they could be afraid of. “But they aren’t being coy about it anymore. It’s not just Tristan they don’t want you with. They don’t want you to become queen. Period.”

She gazed back out at the stormy horizon. “I see.”

“Which, of course, makes me want you all the more.” He smirked, creeping closer, brushing her windblown hair back.

Her head tipped skeptically. “I know you, Grant. If I was in the way of you becoming king, you’d gladly trample me under your feet.”

Grant put a hand over his heart. “I’m offended you think so little of me.”

“Why? You and I both know you wouldn’t pass up the crown for the world.”

He gazed at her as though he possessed all the confidence in the world. She envied that confidence. “I’d be king . I wouldn’t let them tell me who I can and cannot marry. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let them bully me like Tristan.”

She paused, stunned at his declaration.

He took advantage of her silence, slowly shifting to tower over her. He spread a hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer. Her breath caught. He was close—too close. His lips parted over hers.

She knew what he was about to do. She went to pull back, but Grant’s hand trapped her, blocking her escape.

Zareb broke like a statue coming alive, taking a quick step toward the pair. Tristan also lunged, but Roman stuck an arm out, ripping him back, furiously whispering something into his ear.

“Call Zareb off. We had a deal.” Grant leaned in, smelling her hair as the bridge of his nose grazed her neck.

She swallowed hard. Damn him. Her eyes flickered to Zareb, shaking her head. Zareb stopped in his tracks.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grant whispered into her ear. “You might even like it.”

Before she could think about what was happening, Grant captured her lips.

His warm mouth molded against hers with ease, both arms snaking around her waist. It was a possessive, slow kiss.

If she was being honest, it wasn’t half bad.

In fact, it was quite good. If Rose had any real feelings for Grant, she might have savored it.

But he wasn’t Tristan. There were no sparks, no butterflies, no fire surging through her veins.

Grant came up for air. His eyes changed—hooded. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, as if something had just clicked within his mind. “I get it now.”

The wind stole her heavy breaths as she stared at him, still trying to process what had just happened until she remembered where she was—and who was watching.

Her eyes sprang to Tristan, who was nowhere to be found.

To make matters worse, the queen and Harriet had seen the kiss, too.

Harriet’s eyes widened, hurt and betrayed, while the queen’s narrowed.

Roman’s expression went straight back to malice the longer he stared.

Whatever faith she’d gained had just been lost.