A Wicked Game [The Crown Saga II] (Under Editing)

A Suitor's Narrative

I slammed the door shut behind me as I left my chamber, frustrated and upset.

Art had declared me unfit to wield his training weapon—that I still lacked the control required to master the air weapons despite the many weeks I'd spent working tirelessly to manage the cursed thing.

Most of all, I wanted to march into his study and demand to be sent home if he believed me so utterly hopeless that he didn't trust me to wield a basic tool, but Art was a stubborn prince.

Excluding his unreasonably relentless nephew, Art was probably the most stubborn person I'd come across in my twenty years. Nothing I could say or do would make him give up on me—not already.

Instead, I'd decided to find my way to the Battle Arena to blow off a little steam. Practice and intense exercise apparently helped me find peace when I was mentally exhausted from Crown Trials activities or homesickness.

Most of the suitors were gathered in the Parlor, and no one had yet installed cameras in these hallways, so I decided to forego the effort to be discreet about the illusion's existence. I threw my towel across my shoulder and slammed my crystal against the tallest mountain in the painting, concealing the entrance to the secret tunnels.

The familiar sound of drywall grinding against bricks echoed through the halls as I twisted the painting before stepping through the illusion.

Torches lit up as the tunnel detected my presence, and the light followed me the entire way to the other exit in the dressing room.

I'd been terrified to walk here alone the first few times after the king had granted me access. It reminded me of the horrors I went through during the first trial, but now it barely touched me. Especially today, when my wrath appeared to overshadow any form of anxiety that had previously manifested itself in me.

I slammed the crystal against the naked wall and waited for it to turn into a mist of optical illusions before entering the dressing room.

The air still smelled of steam and clung uncomfortably to my skin even though our battle lecture had ended several hours ago.

I peeked into the shower space to check if anyone was there or if any shower heads were dripping, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There wasn't a single drop of water to be found anywhere in the entire room.

This place couldn't possibly be the source of the damp air. Maybe another dressing room had recently been used, or the Battle Arena had been cleaned.

I sighed, frustrated and slightly annoyed. I didn't have time to investigate this matter if I wanted to practice tonight.

A grunt escaped me as I tossed the bag containing my warrior uniform on the bench. Then I unwrapped the robe that had kept me warm on my way here.

I cursed my rigid body as I struggled to undo the numerous buttons on my nightgown, spanning from my neck to the lower part of my back.

Flexibility was another subject that Art still lectured me strenuously on. I could almost force my rigid limbs into a decent split, but that didn't necessarily imply that my upper body automatically followed suit. My back was still as stiff as a board.

Finally, I managed to undo the button that allowed me to pull the wretched thing over my head and furiously toss it to the ground.

"Could this day get any worse?" I muttered past my tensed lips as I unzipped the bag to find my clothes.

Or maybe the ground would start shaking in a moment, cracks forming in the foundation to make way for powerful flames to erupt from Heliac's boiling core as if I'd somehow angered the ancient spirits.