The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~In the Eyes of a Primus~

Primus Kelan P.O.V

Where. Is. She?

My mind screams at me. Find her!

Reinsbure marches towards me with that guilt-ridden look on his face like he knows has failed me. His eyes bounce from place to place, studiously evading my gaze. We meet in the centre of a stone hallway lined with statuesque guards. More than usual. Increased security.

"No one has seen her, Primus."

I cast my gaze away. Something balls inside me fiercely, compressing and expanding with ferocity. Concern that teeters the brink of chaos. My mind replays the petrifying procession of that dagger in her hands. The horror-inducing realisation that she was determined to do it. She was ready to do it. She wanted to die. What if I had not been there? If I was a second too late?

This is all my doing.

"I spoke to the Herems. They are gathered in the western drawing room."

"And?" I demand.

"They all denied knowledge pertaining to her whereabouts." He hesitates, his lips twitch as if he is about to divulge something, but he halts himself for a moment like he's about to recant. "All except Vince. He refused to speak with me, pretended as if I was not even there. So I left before I could put a dent in his head."

Vince. "I would like to see him try do that to me."

I blaze forward, rapidly and vehemently, almost leaving scorch marks in my wake. An onrush of wind whips through the hallway. Its howl rouses the ends of my coat, causing it to rise.

"Primus—" He jogs briefly to catch up with me. "I do not think that is wise. He will seek to provoke you, goad you into a fight."

"His mere breathing provokes me. And believe me, he does not need to goad me."

"Kelan," he says reproachfully. One of the two beings that can utter my name in that tone and still live. "Your attention should be on aiding Duce Merian to conclude our exodus from Nivalis. With your permission, let me interrogate him again and this time, I will use necessary force. Or even unnecessary. Since violence is the only language Emikrollians understand."

I streak through the hallways wordlessly, manoeuvring through the labyrinth, hoping my memory will serve me well to recall the western drawing room.

"Where's Bartholomew then?"

"Sent him to the Gatehouse," I say curtly. "I wanted him to speak to the gatekeepers and report back. I want to of everyone who has departed in the last few hours. To find out if she is amidst them."

"Gatehouse?" he repeats dubiously. "You think she left? Why would she go and where?"

"I do not think. I know she left."

"How?" he questions.

"I simply do."

We approach the guarded doors of the drawing room. They are opened immediately on our advent. I sweep inside and stop midway to observe the Herems lounging on the regal furniture, sitting in perceptible forlorn. Less loud. More doleful. An atmosphere shrouded in anguish.

Vince sits with his back toward me, preaching to the Herems and they all listen avidly until my presence disturbs them. Their gaze drifting to me. Vince quickly notices the retracted attention and looks off his shoulder to glance at me. He reverts and picks up where he left off nonchalantly.

My head tilts downwards.

"Primus," Reinsure whispers. "Let me—"

"Herem Vince," I summon.