Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
Wh...
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Sorein had been pacing for hours. He couldn't calm his nerves long enough to sit.
Let alone sleep.
A track was beginning to wear into the carpet beneath him, his paranoia worsened by the occasional voices in the hall.
Reading hadn't helped, nothing had.
This trial ate away at his sanity, nestling into his mind. He thought back to the night of his Sealing, the night Iliya knew in her bones something would go wrong but couldn't place it.
He regretted disregarding those feelings so easily, assuming her instincts were scrambled from being alone.
No, Sorein knew this sensation was very real.
A knock at the door locked his spine, a wave of ice running through his veins.
He loathed the fear creeping into him.
"Yes?"
He prayed one of his friends would answer, but his lungs deflated when Ezre opened the door.
The King stood before him with red rimmed eyes, dark circles emphasizing his exhaustion. He'd never seen the man look so disheveled, certainly not with locks of brown hair fraying outward and the buttons undone on his shirt.
Ezre's winded frame blocked the exit, shutting the door behind him as he faced Sorein.
"What do you know of Damien Ravellier?"
Sorein wondered how much coin he could collect from hearing that phrase, but he kept the musing locked up tight.
"You mean the King of Toskapel?"
"Yes."
"As much as anyone else, I suppose. He is a King in title alone who cares about protecting the welfare of his country. Files mention how he raised an army simply to ensure the rest of the world left them alone."
Carefully toeing the line of knowledge, Sorein avoided mentioning how said King might've also written an entire journal to Ezre's granddaughter.
"What else?" he asked.
Sorein furrowed his brows. "What do you mean, what else?"
Ezre raked his hands over his face and into his hair. "We have five minutes, at best. What else do you know, Sorein?"
His golden eyes penetrated the false calm within Sorein.
"She'll kill me," he answered, frowning.
"Half the world is attempting to kill you. It's time to pick a side."
He didn't know it would come to this. His mouth went dry at the mention of it. Someone had demanded a Ritual and put Ezre into a very difficult position.
Sorein swallowed roughly, his throat like sandpaper. "Damien wrote Iliya a letter," he whispered. "It was attached to a journal. And all I know is that after she read it, we went into Nioreir."
