Page 39 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

She swiveled back to Grant, pushing him, but the shove barely made his shoulder move. “You snake. You manipulated this whole thing to mess with him.”

Grant wasn’t the least bit sorry. “I haven’t done anything to hinder his chances. His own mind will do that.”

She opened her mouth, ready to round on him?—

With a creak, the hut’s doors swung open, and Emmett stumbled out, his face ghostly pale with sweat streaming down his cheeks.

He had been sick to his stomach, the evidence of it clinging to his cloak.

The confidence he’d had all but vanished, dissipating along with the smoke from the chimney.

His mother and Beth supported his arms as he wobbled.

His father trailed after them, his frown creased into harsh lines.

That had been fast.

Too fast.

The king exited the hut, his expression blank as he called for the next candidate. “Dawnton!”

Dawnton was present in a flash, though his usual pompous demeanor was nowhere in sight. His legs trembled like a newborn calf as the dark hut swallowed him. Following him were his two younger brothers and their parents, all hesitant to step into the lion’s den. With that, the door closed again.

Rose spun on her heels, intending to go find Tristan.

Grant tried to tame her fire. “Rose?—”

“Don’t.”

At her viperous glare, Grant surrendered, letting her go.

Zareb read her fury, leaving her alone. But he’d make sure he could see her still, even if she wasn’t aware of where he was.

In the distance, she spotted Tristan’s figure near the cliff’s edge. Though he saw her coming, he didn’t bother to acknowledge her, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

She stopped within a few feet of him. “I didn’t know he was going to do that,” she said lamely.

“I did,” Tristan replied in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

She would’ve preferred for him to yell at her.

He was angry, that was certain, but more than that, he looked broken. And she’d just added another large crack to his fragile frame.

“I thought we were in this together,” Tristan said, still in a soft whisper.

She bit the inside of her cheek in regret. “We are.”

“Today, of all days.”

“I know.”

“Why are you torturing me?” he asked. “Last night and now this? Is it because I took your sword? Are you still so angry with me?”

“No—yes—but I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t stop it either.”

“If you only knew?—”

“Isn’t that the phrase of the century—if only I knew.” He paused, scoffing. “But how could I, when you tell me nothing? I am not a simpleton, Rose. You forget I’ve known you practically your whole life.”

“I want to tell you everything.”

“Then tell me!”

She opened her mouth to answer, then faltered.

How was she supposed to explain why she had to entertain Grant without telling him the rest of it?

About her fortune, how they’d lost it, about the true nature of her father, why it had led to her training, all of it.

And heaven help her, she didn’t know if she was ready for him to see that side of her.

She’d bolted it up so tight with a lock and key, she feared if she opened it, it would all come spilling out.

And if the council found out Tristan knew of her fake fortune and soiled reputation, they might find a way to use it against them both in the succession.

She couldn’t risk it. At least not until today was over. It was better he didn’t know. For now.

“It’s not that simple.”

He barked a harsh lifeless laugh, the wind blowing through his tousled curls. “It never is with you, is it?”

Her fingernails dug into her palm. “You don’t exactly make it easy. You’ve been under so much pressure—I didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

He shook his head sharply. “Don’t throw that at me. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot handle.”

“You realize that’s exactly what I asked of you the morning you took my sword,” she said, throwing it right back.

The point made him pause, letting her know she’d struck a chord. His expression relaxed as the realization set in.

She came closer, wanting to reach out, but she refrained, fearing he wouldn’t want it. “Please don’t hold it against me. I’m so sorry.”

He clenched his jaw, looking like he was debating whether to throw her off the cliff or kiss her madly.

“Tristan!” Roman’s voice called, a scowl engraved on his face. “You’re next. You should stay close.”

Tristan gazed at her with an empty expression, sending a dull pain through her heart.

He didn’t move, his face growing into something fierce.

“I refuse to let Grant come between us. He wants this to happen because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against us together.

I’m not going to be so easily goaded by him.

” He slid his hand down into hers, intertwining their fingers.

A wave of relief rushed through her. She gripped his hand back. Without warning, Tristan pulled her into his chest. His lips dipped to meet hers, parting her mouth with little effort.

She didn’t resist in the slightest, welcoming the kiss. They shouldn’t be so careless, but she couldn’t think straight. Not when he held her like this. Not when he kissed her like she was life itself. With lips so hungry, she was sure he was trying to consume her whole.

Regretfully, he pulled away. “Walk with me.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he tugged her along.

Roman sneered in disgust as they passed, his blazing golden eyes fixated on Tristan. Despite his brother’s fury, Tristan clung to her hand.

Everyone was still waiting in the tent when they rejoined the group.

Grant was gone. It must have been his turn.

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her, giving Rose a look that seemed to say, I hope you know what you’re doing.

All the while, Tristan held firm to her hand.

Even when his mother discreetly shook her head at him, he pulled Rose closer.

She did her best to block them all out, trying to focus on the task at hand.

The minutes dragged on, but eventually, Grant emerged with his parents.

Unlike Emmett, Grant returned with his dignity intact.

His face was grim, but not sickly like Emmett’s.

As he exited, his eyes sought out Rose and Tristan, hardening at the sight of the pair holding hands.

Tristan moved in front of Rose, conveying a clear message.

The king exited the hut with Lord Martin. “Tristan,” the king called next.

“Good luck,” Rose whispered, giving his hand one more squeeze of encouragement before she let go.

The queen, Harriet, and Roman were there in a blink, ready to follow Tristan into the hut. But to her utter surprise, the king spoke to her. “You too, Rose,” he instructed, gesturing for her to enter.

Her heart dropped onto the mossy ground beneath her. Her eyes flitted back and forth between Tristan and the king. “Me?” She pointed to her chest.

Lord Martin looked all too pleased. “Yes. The council has decided that since you worked on the first challenge together, you shouldn’t have problem combining this challenge as well.”

The king’s face grew beet red, but he said nothing in rebuttal. Clearly, he had been overruled.

Queen Lenna’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “But this isn’t?—”

“The council demands it,” King Henrik stated, silencing her.

The queen said nothing more—she couldn’t.

Not when he spoke like that, not when the king commanded his queen.

Rose had never seen Lenna give her husband such a haughty gaze as she strutted past him, followed by her children.

Roman made it a point to sidestep as far away from her as possible, disgust still burnt on his face.

The council had a venomous snake hidden up their sleeve. There was an ulterior motive for wanting Rose and Tristan in that hut, and it wasn’t good. This was revenge for having been made fools during the first challenge.

Dread coursed through her like cold winter snow. She could only hope that Zareb’s quick lesson on mind fortification last night would be enough to save them.

She turned to find her mother and Zareb, but they were already behind her. Her mother’s face was drained of color, but there was nothing she could do to shield her this time.

Her mother had been right. Rose had put too much faith in herself for this succession. If she couldn’t keep their secrets hidden… she’d lose a great deal more than a crown.

Tristan leaned closer to his father. “What do they want?” he whispered.

King Henrik’s defeated eyes faltered. “I don’t know, but I’m afraid I cannot deny their request. But don’t worry, it will be alright.”

Rose and Tristan shared an anxious glance.

“Me and you?” Tristan said, holding up his pinky.

The cold winter snow encasing her melted as she wrapped her finger around his. “Me and you.”

There was no backing out now. She could do this. They could do this. Together.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and entered the hut.