The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~Awake~

A sense of unease begs me to wake. A presence. The more that consciousness pours in, the more the pain upsurges, ricocheting through every part of me, blazing between my temples, throbbing. Queasiness rises to the swell at the top of my head, stirring whatever is left of my mind in a cauldron of disarray.

I heave my eyelids open, fluttering, my vision askew. I compress my eyes close and reopen them in an erratic repeat. My sight clears, enhancing. I roll on to my side—a gasp flees from me—lurching back. Primus Kelan sits beside my bed, seated on one of the armchairs. He regards me attentively, like a physician observing his patient with cold calculation.

I try to speak but only dust leaves my lips, parched, my throat as arid as the Night Desert. I clear my throat several times, shifting to sit upright.

"Do you remember what happened?"

My mind is so muddled, lost in a sea of confusion. I gather my thoughts, accumulating memory partials, bits, and pieces here and there. "It is not something I wish to recall," I say raucously. My voice grated, almost unrecognisable. I lift my gloved hands to knead my fingers into my temples in a desperate attempt to ease the deluge of biliousness, rushing at me in waves.

"Well, I cannot seem to forget it." His gaze sharp, slicing into me as if to spill my indignities, despite that he already knows them all.

I rest my head back. "Where is my dagger?"

He straightens in his seat. His face is like granite. "Why, so you can try to impale yourself again?"

I wince, diverting my gaze to my blanketed lap. "My father gave me that dagger."

"And you were going to use it to end your life?" His voice riddled with contempt.

"Oh, spare me your judgment," I spit out. I inhale a serrated breath, recoiling at the twinge in my head like a blood vessel had exploded. "If you intend to berate me so then do what you do best. Leave me." He doesn't move. "I will not tell you again."

Kelan leans forward. He settles his elbows on his thighs, staring at me pensively. "And what will you do?" Anger poisons his tenor. "Will you break my wrist as well? Threaten me as you did with the castle guards? I do not fear you—"

"You should!" I bark out. I wrestle for my calm. "Do you not see that my very existence courts death? Those who loathe me, fall. Those who care for me, fall. Death does not discriminate, and neither does whatever power dwells in me. Solaris is fallen, and who is next? You?"

Kelan leans back into his seat. He obscures a grimace, hiding it with a neutral look.

"You already risked your life for me once, and I will not endanger your life again. You were right to wedge that distance between us."

Kelan shuns my gaze. He appears torn, his face twitching, caught between remorse and resistance. "That was nothing. I would do it again and again if it meant safeguarding your life."

"Kelan." A wince foils his resilience. "These were no ordinary assailants, bandits, or members of a terror faction. This was the Ulris. That blast could have easily killed you; it is a miracle that not any more of us perished."

"That is because you saved us all before that could happen."

I avert my gaze.

"Look at me," he demands.

Night beholds twilight. "You saved us," he repeats as if it is etched in stone.

"As well as, it was not them," he says cryptically. His brows knit together in complexity. "They were proxies. Puppets. Vilnus does not yet possess the full strength to breach, that limitation is unbreakable, let alone shadow soldiers infiltrating our tier."