The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~Royal Invitation~

"I don't know."

"You must know something," I urge.

The our scuffling footsteps reverberates through the stairwell.

Juwela fidgets with the folded towels in her grasp, the strange liquid soap neatly placed on top.

"All I know is that for the past three days, the Ecclesia have been occupied by an ongoing symposium. I know a few of the guards that shadow their assemblies, and they would not divulge even an inkling of their debate to me. But what was worrying is how bothered they seemed, aggressive towards my inquiry."

We amble down the flight. Welcomed by a whirring melody. The sound of ever rushing water pelting the surface in a harmonious permanence. A strong torrent, yet it tempers with gentle swooshes.

"Then what of this, Tigress?" I prod on. "She is higher than them, and the Kumentah is above them all. Why is she not consulted in momentous, constitutional assemblies?"

I trot off the last step.

Jewula sighs loudly. "The Tigress is not some political instrument or a governing figurehead. She is the anointed one, she speaks the will of the Kumentah. She resides in a separate keep of the bastion, secluded in perpetual prayer. When it is time, and the Ecclesia reach some kind of consensus. then they appraise her."

My eyes are drawn to the cascade pouring down into the rock pool, it shimmers like the tears of angels; the waterfall fuses itself like threads of watery fabric into the surface, as smooth and fluvial as glistening dew.

Jewula sets the collection of items on a stand near the pool.

She turns to face me, her cosmic eyes reflecting the gem-blue waters. "Do not concern yourself with the nuances of our regime. I think it is nerve-wracking for us all to house foreigners sent by another Ruler to broker an alliance. There is a reason why the leaders of old never wanted Velheim to be known, let alone encumbered by other's problems."

"Other's problems?" My voice hits a sharp peak. "The re-emergence of the Ulris is not only our problem."

"No, now it is all of our problem," she says with a tincture of resentment. "I do not know what lies they fed you about your history. Yes, the first High King, his armies and his allies defeated the remaining forces after the breach was closed. But they were the ones that opened it in the first place."

She shrugs and looks at me ruefully. "One cannot be acclaimed for cleaning their own mess." She bows her head to me. "Do you require anything else?"

"No." My voice harsher than I expected. I refine my tone and try again. "No, thank you."

She nods and breezes passed me, soon swallowed by the darkness.

I face the rock pool and I take a few steps towards it as I pull the one strap of the dress off my shoulder. Then I spot another assortment of towels on the opposite verge of the pool. I fumble a retreat as a burly figure bursts through the iridescent surface—I clap a hand on my hammering heart.

He slicks his hair back, hands sliding down, the wet tips drip to his collarbone. Contoured muscles bunching in his back, skin marred by old, jagged scars, varying in lengths of severity. Vince swivels around, the waterline reaches the hip, caressing his defined v-line.

"What's this?" he asks breathlessly, his muscled chest rising and plummeting. He sets his hands on his hips. A leather band bound on each bulging bicep.

I try to summon words, but all that I gather is pitiful spluttering.

He watches me curiously, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.