The King Trials.

~New Alliances~

Not long after Primus Kelan left, us purebloods, are beckoned for breakfast at the same place as before in the palace; at the balcony. But this time Vince is nowhere to be found and his absence is all too prominent as his presence.

My mind vibrates with theories.

***

I sit at the vanity, inspecting my newly sharpened and polished blades, waiting on Green Earl Moray's summoning. The two garner holsters and scabbards are positioned neatly alongside the daggers. I pick up my father's one, a rare quillon dagger. My thumb runs up to the hilt, brushing against the glass handle. The guard of the dagger bejewelled with pale white minerals.

The noontide sun shines through all the archways. Sunlight pours into the chambers like smelted gold. I hold up the dagger to the light and the once pale minerals ignite into a spectacle of shimmering white. I glance back at the smiling reflection in the mirror. I spot a forest-green figure far behind me beside the open entrance of the room.

I drop the dagger back down—it rattles a thud—I swivel around on the backless seat.

"Apologies, Hera Aurora," he says, bowing his head. "Green Earl Moray requests an audience with you."

A palace guard. That much is made clear by the intricate threads of his emerald uniform.

My eyes dart back at the daggers. It's clearly too late to take them with me.

I rise from the seat, smoothening out my skirt. "Of course."

I follow the guard out of my chambers. A meter between us as we travel through the long, single corridor, out of the annex, crossing the bridges. A network of paved plank wood intersecting between the structures that surround the palace. Today there are noticeably fewer guards and more Terra aristocrats that gallivant amidst the foliage-adorned labyrinth.

A rough hand snatches my wrist—I whip around.

Rimnick.

"Hera Aurora," he says with mutual surprise. His voice is enwrought with inherent devilry. A certain malicious ring to his tenor, that solidifies the impression that what he utters will either be callous or deceptive.

I wrench my hand from him. My periphery shrinks as I hone my vision on him solely. I hear the guard march towards me from behind, and I toss up a halting hand. The marching stops.

"It has been a long time since we last spoke."

The wind blows its breath in his dirty brown hair, sieved with darker fringes. The hair on the sides is shaved, leaving all the tresses in the centre to cascade over his forehead. His hair parted up the middle.

"An eternity can pass. And it still will not be enough," I say, flashing him an insincere smile. "Herem."

Rimnick lets out a dark chuckle, it sparks a malevolent gleam in those vacuous eyes. A dreary brown, but I swear there's a red like blood that occupies the place where pupils should be. His face ever engraved with a smug look, but there's something in his smirk that lingers.

Something perilous.