THE ROYAL TRIALS: HEIR

by James Tate

  "Shit!" I screamed as my upper back hit the floor and sharp spikes of invisible pain lanced through my brain. A low, involuntary moan rolled from me as I clutched my fingers to my head, almost like I could gouge the pain out with my fingertips.

  The being stalked closer to me, clicking her tongue against those deadly fangs. "How very rude of you to try and enter someone's mind without their permission."

  I wasn't capable of a witty response, instead just sucking deep breaths and trying to fight my way through the blinding pain. Earlier, when Zan had been explaining to me about the rules on his magic, he'd had me try to enter Ty's mind without permission. The blowback had stung, but this was a whole other league.

  "Let's see what you can do with that little blade, mortal," the creature held her hand out to the side and a shining blade of steel appeared in it.

  The pain in my head still raged, but battle magic took over and helped me locate and raise my own dagger just in time to block her forceful blow.

  My teeth ground together hard, and I forced deep breaths into my lungs, fighting to clear my head while meeting the being strike for strike. Soon our speed and skill surpassed even my own training, and I let the magic control my limbs. Blocking, dodging, striking, weaving, we danced a macabre waltz of sharp steel and deadly consequences around the stone chamber until finally the magic gave me a clear path to victory.

  In an intricate sequence of moves—moves I'd never been taught—I twisted, ducked, kicked, then struck.

  I only paused when the steel of my blade pressed into the sticky black skin of her throat and the fight dropped out of her body.

  Before I could do anything more, she quivered and twisted beneath me, shrinking back down into the vulnerable little girl that she'd first appeared to me as.

  "Please," the girl sobbed. "Please just end it. It hurts so much. Please make it all end."

  Her pleas struck at my heart, and I eased the pressure of my dagger on her throat, peering into her little face. "Let me into your head. Maybe I can help."

  The child nodded, uncaring that I had a knife to her throat. "Okay." Her voice was so small and terrified it made me sick to my stomach. Poor kid.

  Not waiting around to see if she would morph back into the big bad bitch, I grabbed onto the mind control magic that Zan had drilled into me all morning and dove headfirst into the creature’s consciousness.

  What I found there made me stagger back and fall to my knees, tears streaming from my own eyes as twenty years of abuse flashed across my mind in an instant. My heart ached for the pain it had endured, but mostly I was horrified and sickened by the disrespect. This was magic. The little girl, the angry woman, these were simply physical manifestations of our world’s essence, and their erratic behavior was a direct result of the damage Titus had wrecked upon it.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered to the crying girl, who'd huddled into a ball with her teddy bear. "I'm so incredibly sorry. Will you let me fix it?"

  Running on instinct, I reached a hand out to her to offer my help, and she eyed it warily. "Can you? It hurts so much."

  I shook my head, at a loss for words that could mend all the wounds. "I don't know," I answered her truthfully. "But will you let me try?"

  The child looked back at me with her weeping black eyes, then stretched out a small, dirty hand to take mine.

  Swallowing past my pain and disgust on her behalf, I reached inside myself and grabbed hold of that warm, tingling light that represented healing magic. Taking it into my mind, I pushed it through our connected hands and into the child—into the physical manifestation of our land’s magic.

  Bright golden light exploded around us, blinding me and wiping away the dark and dirty stone walls of the chamber. But I didn't need to see to know what I was doing was right. Was working.

  Using the techniques Lee had coached me on during our morning session, I didn't try to wield the healing magic. Instead I simply provided guidance to it, allowing it to go where it needed to in order to heal the damage to my patient.

  Slowly, piece by piece, parts of her mended. I felt each one click back into place as though I were healing my own soul, and as each new seam repaired, a little weight lifted from my mind.

  When it was complete—seconds, minutes, hours, or days later—the golden light faded, and I blinked rapidly with my returning vision.

  "Thank you, child," the old woman in front of me said, a peaceful smile on her wrinkled face and her sea foam-green hair perfectly coifed. "You're stronger than we could have ever anticipated to heal such grievous harm. This land couldn't ask for a better champion."

  I shook my head, humbled by the mere fact that I spoke to magic. "I'm sorry for everything you've suffered. I'm sorry I didn't fix it sooner." Guilt pricked at me. I had held the power all along and just never known it.

  The old woman smiled wider. "No use crying over spilled milk, ducky. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

  I spluttered a laugh, bemused at how similar to Magda she sounded. "Now what do I do?"

  The old woman shifted forms, back into the curvy, naked form of the woman. Except this time her hair was a silken fall of sky blue and her skin creamy pale. Her eyes, no longer seeping pits of despair, were a soft lilac, and when she smiled it was like sunlight.

  "Now you need to reclaim what is rightfully yours, daughter of Ophelia. You have healed us. You've healed your land. Now go and rule it."

  My lips parted, but no sound came out. What words could possibly capture the intensity of such a moment?

  The woman shifted and writhed once more, shrinking down into the little girl, and I sobbed with happiness.

  "You're okay," I cried, forgetting for a moment that this was no normal child and wrapping her in a huge hug. Thankfully, my land’s magic didn't take offense and hugged me back with the little child’s arms.

  "Thanks to you, I am," she told me, grinning up at me with sparkling golden eyes when I let her go. Her soft hair was the color of daffodils and her cheeks held a healthy pink glow. Even her dress was crisp and white, while her teddy bear had regained his missing eye and looked freshly washed. "But your time here is done. You must go now; your consorts grow worried for you."

  I gaped at the adorable child. "Ummm."

  She gave me a cheeky smile. "No judgments here, Zarina. All queens who carry immense magic must find a suitable consort to share the burden of power. You are stronger than any who have come before you, so it stands to reason you require more than one consort."

  She shifted back into the old woman, who gave me a wink. "We approve of your choices. They're strong men and will support you well in times to come."

  A click followed by the grinding of stone echoed from the door, and I guessed it was about to open. When my attention shifted back to Magic, she'd returned to the form of a naked woman, and a concerned frown touched her brow.

  "Be cautious, young queen. Many dangers wait at your door, and it will be many years before peace can reign once more." She paused, her lips pursed and her lilac eyes serious. "But you have what it takes to make it though. Just trust your gut."

  Her advice was so simple and so in line with what Ophelia had told me in her vision that I laughed.

  The door creaked open then, and the naked woman—the embodiment of magic—exploded into a thousand colorful butterflies, bursting from the chamber ahead of me as I stepped out.

  Chapter 26

  After my very dramatic exit from the trial chamber, I keeled over in a dead faint.

  I wish I was joking about that, but I wasn't.

  According to Sagen, I was the last to exit. Savannah had been waiting there, along with the entire crown council—royals excluded for whatever bullshit reason Titus must have thought up—when the door had opened four times. The first out had been Sagen. The second had been Hazel. The third time it opened, Agatha had been dead on the floor, and two council members had carried her body out. The fourth time was when it had opened for me, and I'd apparently stepped out surro
unded in glowing light with butterflies flapping everywhere, causing a hell of a commotion.

  If there had been any lingering questions over who had won the Trials, the entire crown council had born witness. "Lady Callaluna" was to be their next queen, and now all they could talk about was which prince she'd choose to be her king.

  Fools.

  "You ready?" Sagen called to me as I inspected myself in the bathroom mirror.

  Someone—I assumed Sagen or Savannah—had sent maids to my room to prepare me for the Golden Ball when I'd woken from my very ladylike swoon, and they'd worked miracles on my hair and makeup.

  My dress was a masterpiece, and I made a mental note to track down the seamstress and kiss her all over because for the very first time, I truly felt like the queen I was.

  "I look like her," I commented as my darkly beautiful friend appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Like Ophelia."

  Sage tipped her head to the side, running her gaze over my shimmering gold ball gown and the intricate lace detailing on the sleeves and bodice, then to the gossamer silk of my golden lace mask.

  "So she was a gorgeous bitch, too, huh?" She gave me a teasing smirk, then held out a cloak for me to take. "Come on. Your lover boys will be freaking beside themselves with worry by now. Better make your grand entrance and get the festivities really started."

  Her smile was fierce, and as I took my cloak, I spotted several throwing knives cleverly woven into her formal gown. Apparently Sagen wasn't content to let the disguised Asintischian warriors have all the fun tonight.

  "Good point," I agreed, shrugging the warm, fur-lined garment over my gown. During the night we'd spent in the chamber, a thick blanket of snow had fallen over the whole kingdom. It was a weather phenomenon not seen since before Ophelia's death and gave me a peaceful sense of comfort that I hadn't imagined it all. The land was healed and magic restored to its full strength.

  Titus wouldn't know what was about to hit him.

  None of my princes—my nature-approved consorts—had been there when I'd exited the chamber, nor when I'd woken from my collapse. Initially I'd been panicked, thinking something bad must have happened, but Sagen had explained that Titus had started the party early and demanded his sons—the guests of honor—be present in the great hall.

  Neither Sagen nor I spoke as we made our way silently through the palace halls—not until we left the warmth of inside to cut across a huge courtyard that had once been overflowing with flowers.

  Halfway across and surrounded by soft white snow, Sagen paused me with a hand on my arm.

  "Hey, so I know we can't talk about what happened," she started, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. "But I wanted to say thank you." From her pocket, she pulled out the deep blue stone necklace and held it out to me. "Seriously. I owe you a life debt, Zarina."

  The stone of the necklace was dull, and I could sense it had been completely drained. Whatever Sagen had faced in the chamber—and I was confident we'd all faced very different challenges—had required every last drop of the princes’ gifted magic.

  Reaching out, I touched a finger to the amulet but didn't take it from her. Instead, I filled it with my own magic. Magic that I hadn't realized was inside me my whole life.

  "Keep it," I told her once the stone glittered again. "You never know when you’ll need the backup."

  She looked shocked for a moment, then gave me a tight nod and slipped the chain back over her head. One of the things I liked most about Princess Sagen of Asintisch? She was no idiot. When someone handed her a magical amulet and said to keep it, she shut up and did as she was told.

  "Let's go fuck some shit up," she muttered, leading the way across the courtyard to the doors on the far side. Once inside, it'd only be a short distance to the grand entrance where royals from all seven kingdoms would arrive, if they hadn't already. Every dignitary, every high ranking aristocrat and Politian would be in attendance for the Golden Ball—one of the most legendary celebrations in the history of the seven kingdoms. What better time to "fuck some shit up," as Sagen so eloquently put it?

  As we approached the entrance, where several crisply uniformed attendants waited, Sagen and I exchanged a smile. For me, it was all nervous excitement and anticipation. All my fears and doubts over my new role had faded away, and I was now just itching to take my throne. There was so much work to be done. So many wrongs to be righted and wounds to be healed that I could scarcely wait.

  For Sage, it was a smile of pure wicked excitement. She expected a fight, or at the very least a bit of a skirmish, and she was walking the thin line of bloodlust. Crazy bitch.

  We removed our cloaks, handing them to a waiting attendant, then moved up the line to the announcing herald.

  "Names?" he asked, sounding bored and barely even glancing at us.

  "Princess Sagen of Asintisch, daughter of Aiko," Sage announced in her very best entitled brat voice, making the herald give her a second look before nodding sharply. He stepped back inside the grand ballroom, brought his megaphone to his lips, and boomed Sagen's title out over the chattering, laughing, gossiping room full of people.

  Most announcements at court events went unnoticed, with people only paying attention to royals or anyone who'd recently been involved in a scandal. Sagen was both, so a lot of the noise died down as people turned to peer at the foreign princess.

  To her credit, Sage held her head high and regal, gliding down the staircase like a dark swan on a mirror-still lake. From where I stood, I instantly spotted General Kaiten across the room, staring up at my friend like a man completely in love. What I didn't expect, though, was the torn look on Prince Heruko’s face as he stood behind his friend and watched his stepsister make her entrance.

  As badly as I wanted to pry into her story further, my time was up. I needed to focus on what was about to happen and besides, there was no one close for me to ask.

  This was the moment we'd planned for. The cue all our allies were watching for. The moment that I sincerely hoped would see King Titus's head explode from sheer rage.

  "Name?" the herald asked me.

  I cleared my throat, pulling the Crown of Veren from the deep pocket of my wide skirts, and placed it on my head. Power rushed through my veins, and I took several deep, calming breaths while the herald stared slack-jawed.

  "Queen Zarina of Teich, daughter of Ophelia."

  The herald still stared, and I worried for a moment that he might be broken. But with a couple of rapid blinks he stammered out something unintelligible, his face flaming crimson as he dipped a deep bow to me, then hurried back to his post inside the doors. The ecstatic look on his face as he raised his megaphone made me want to laugh, but the silence that filled the room when he made his proud announcement demanded my game face.

  As I made my entrance, it was so quiet that I could well have been walking into an empty hall—if not for the hundreds of eyes glued to my every move.

  "Thank you," I murmured to the herald as I passed him, my full golden skirts sweeping across the royal red carpet. Emulating the way Sagen had held herself, I descended the grand staircase with my head held high, my mother’s crown sitting proud on my platinum curls.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Titus boomed, recovering from his shock and rising out of his throne—my throne—with red-faced indignation. "What is this farce? Zarina is dead. She died as a mewling babe in her whore mother’s arms."

  A shocked gasp rippled through the ballroom at Titus's hateful words, but he was too far gone on wine or stolen magic or just plain greed and anger to notice.

  "How could you possibly know that?" I questioned him in a cool tone, crossing the ballroom floor toward the thrones as the crowd parted to let me through. "Unless you were there when my mother was killed. Tell me, Titus, were you the one who delivered the killing blow yourself?"

  The overweight king's face darkened and he opened his mouth to respond, but Lady Savannah beat him to it.

  "No, it wasn't Titus who killed your mother," she informed me,
taking several very deliberate steps away from the thrones. Her voice rang out clear over the silent crowd, and Titus smirked at me.

  "As if there were any doubt," he spat. "I saved this pathetic kingdom. Guards, arrest this imposter. I'm in the mood for an execution."

  There was a shuffling among the guards, yet none of them immediately jumped to do Titus's bidding, possibly thanks to Captain Jefferson who folded his arms over his chest and stood like a damn statue. Though his men looked confused, they followed his lead.

  "Guards!" Titus spluttered, outraged to see his command go ignored.

  "Titus didn't kill Ophelia," Savannah continued, ignoring the false king’s temper tantrum. "Not for lack of trying. He would have done the deed himself if he hadn't been overpowered by our late queen."

  Curiosity rippled through the crowd, and I could tell they were less than happy with all the dramatic pauses.

  "You speak like someone who witnessed Queen Ophelia's death," a bearded man in the livery of Isenmedin spoke up, taking a few steps forward. He had a huge sword hanging from his waist, and his lady companion displayed several smaller, elegant blades. Dignitaries from Isenmedin were the only ones allowed to wear weapons with their court dress, seeing as it was a mark of their heritage.

  Lady Savannah gave a sad smile, her gaze resting on me for a moment. "I was. My greatest wish is that I could have spoken up sooner. Titus didn't kill your mother, Zarina. She was stabbed in the back by someone she trusted. Someone she never thought would turn on her." Savannah cast an accusing glare on the queen, who had yet to show any reaction to everything going on. "Her best friend, Filamina."

  Gasps rose from the hundreds gathered, all witnessing these little truth bombs exploding all over the place.

  "This is absurd," Titus sneered, "nothing but the ravings of a bitter old woman and a girl with delusions of grandeur. Guards! Arrest them both. Immediately." His order was clear, delivered with a menacing glare, but Captain Jefferson didn't budge an inch.