The King's Secret

by Maryam Durrani

  He didn’t seem to like the idea of the armor, the only thing keeping him from snapping Jax in half being my hand on his nose. I held Omen’s face between my hands. The panthera growled.

  “Omen,” I warned. “Stop it. Your breath is putrid.”

  They lowered the helmet over his head. Suddenly, he opened his jaws, letting out a roar deeper and more guttural than a lion’s. I flinched as warm saliva flew onto my skin, his rancid breath filling up my nostrils.

  “Omen!” I gasped, wiping my face on the back of my sleeve. I turned to see Jax peering over Lance’s shoulder, both of them standing further than I’d remembered, hands covering their ears.

  Can you hear anything? Jax mouthed to Lance who shook his head, shrugging.

  I pulled myself up onto the windowsill, letting one leg hang out as I watched the enemy flags blow against the wind.

  I wondered what would happen in the next two days. I won-

  dered which faces I’d never see again. I wondered if I’d live to see their faces again. “What are you daydreaming about?” Xa-

  vier whispered in my ear, causing me to jump. The wetness of the snow caused my foot to slip, and I reached out, grabbing for anything to hold on to. Xavier’s strong arm caught me around my waist before I could fall out.

  “When did you come in?” I gasped, my heart beating wildly. I gripped his shoulders as he laughed, his grasp the only thing keeping me from falling sideways out the window.

  I looked down, gulping, the ground really, really far away. With shivers running up and down my spine, I slowly pulled my leg back inside, my back facing the open air.

  “Can I come in?”

  He thought about it, his hands on either side of my waist.

  “Only if you dance with me.”

  “What?” I raised an eyebrow, still gripping his forearms.

  “You heard me.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the ground again—which seemed an eternity away—and shuddered.

  “Fine.”

  He helped me jump down, into the safety of the room. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  We walked into the grand ballroom.

  It was more magnificent than I had remembered.

  The room was themed gold and scarlet, just like Astodia’s crest. Chandeliers hung from the domes in the ceiling, unlit, though light was peering through the large windows lining the walls. Although the room hadn’t been used in a very, very long time, there were no signs of dust on the polished, gleaming marble floors, as if they had been well taken care of daily. I could almost see my reflection in it, our boots clicking against

  the smooth marble.

  Murals decorated the ceiling, depicting the past kings and

  queens during their coronations. Paintings, gold medallions, and impressions patterned the walls and columns. Crimson curtains draped from the walls, a deep red carpet rolling from the doors, down the steps, and through the ballroom.

  Xavier led me to the stairs, holding my hand in his.

  “I’ll wait for you at the bottom,” he said, smiling. “Just like the old days.” When my father was king, his golden eyes said. When it was you and I against the world.

  “I’m not even wearing a dress,” I laughed as he let go, making his way down the steps.

  “You look perfect,” he called over his shoulder. Warmth spread through my body.

  I waited until he was at the bottom, where Xavier stood with his hands behind his back. He looked stunning, as if he’d prepared for this moment, with his black buttoned-down coat which reached mid-thigh and long, polished boots, his dark curls combed back.

  I gave him a small curtsy to which Xavier threw back his head at, laughing.

  I began walking down towards him. He beamed, and I held out my hand for him to take. Xavier held my fingers in his own gentle ones, placing a kiss on them. I kissed his knuckles, noticing a ring twisting around his finger.

  Xavier held up a hand, and I placed mine on it as we turned in circles. He grinned as he raised his hand, giving me a twirl. He put his hands on either side of my waist, raising me up.

  “This is silly,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips as I looked down at him, my hands resting on his shoulders.

  “I had always been so curious about you,” he said, setting

  me down. “It was in this room when I got my first proper look

  at you—when we first danced together.”

  “Your father’s wish,” I nodded.

  “No, that was the excuse I invented after years of wondering and planning how I’d be able to get close to you,” he smiled broadly. “It was my wish.” He placed a hand on the back of my head and the other around my waist, dipping me back, his nose nearly brushing against mine. “I was too shy to ask directly.”

  “You? Shy?” I asked in disbelief as he brought me back up.

  “The most I had ever been in my life,” he admitted, his cheeks suddenly turning rosy. Surprise caused me to miss a step, and I stumbled. Xavier never blushed. “You were wearing a silver dress with powder-blue flowers all across the bodice, silk lace wrapping around your shoulders. The dress seemed a little long,” he chuckled, “but the rest of it fit perfectly. You were the most beautiful thing I had seen. Especially with your hair held up with matching blue flowers,” he said, brushing a few untucked strands behind my ear. “All I could think was, this really brings out her eyes.”

  He gave me another gentle twirl, holding me out, and then rested one hand against my cheek. I did the same and we turned slowly. Finally, he sat on one knee, signaling the end of the dance. I still had my hand on his neck, which he gripped with both of his and kissed. I curtsied for the second time, and he laughed again.

  “You, curtsying . . .” He shook his head, the corner of his lip turning up, a twinkle in his precious honey eyes. “I could watch you do it all day.”

  “Oh, stop it,” I felt myself redden as I helped him up, “I really despise it.”

  We stood in the center of the ballroom, and suddenly, Xa-

  vier reached out to take my hand.

  “What are yo—”

  “I wanted to give you something before the war resumes,”

  he said softly, serious now. “Close your eyes.”

  I was only slightly hesitant but closed them all the same.

  Xavier slid something cool onto my finger.

  “Open them.”

  I held up my hand to see a gold band twisting around my fourth finger, forming an intricate design. An emerald gem was placed at the top, held together by delicate strands of gold.

  “What—”

  “It’s a promise from me,” he said, resting his hands on my arms, “that no matter where we are, I will find you. It’s small, but something for you to remember me by. I mean,” he continued, “we’re bound together anyway, ring or not . . . you know.”

  He was smirking.

  I was blushing profusely.

  “Anyway,” he blew out air through his lips, "I made it myself,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I know you love emeralds, so . . .”

  I rarely got emotional, but by the time Xavier was done talking, I was almost in tears.

  “I didn’t get you anything,” was all I could mutter.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he assured me, hiding a smile as he saw my eyes welling up.

  “I . . .”

  “Oh, Adalia.” I could tell he was holding back a laugh. He pulled me towards his chest and suddenly, I was gripping the back of his coat, sniffling and choking on my words.

  “I love you,” he repeated over and over with the lips that held all my darkest secrets, reminding, reassuring, promising

  me that we’d meet again.

  I had had uncountable rough nights throughout my lifetime,

  but this was one of the worst.

  I tossed and turned, waking up in cold sweats.

  It was a recurring nightmare; the drakon burning down the castle while I watched from a distance, too far
to do anything. It was the drakon over, and over, and over again.

  I was beginning to get sick of it.

  These dreams were to be expected, though, mainly since it was the night before the ceasefire came to an end.

  I decided not to sleep, going for a walk instead to clear my head. Outside, the corridors were empty, giving me more time alone with my thoughts. With only a few hours left until the final battle, I had to figure out a way to destroy the drakon if King Tarquin had truly found out that he was immune to its fire.

  Elven blood allowed them to control the drakon—how, I didn’t yet know. With that power, we had absolutely no chance to win. There was no point in fighting against it.

  I remembered the story of Rinos who had found the serpent’s weakness behind its scale.

  Like him, I had to find the drakon’s weakness.

  I thought about the note King Albion had left behind. The drakon was at its weakest before it did . . . something.

  Something.

  I wracked my brain, pressing the bases of my palms against the cold stone wall.

  Think . . . think . . .

  And then, just like that, a thought struck me.

  I had an idea.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  I stood in front of the mirror, fully clothed in armor. Picking up my helmet off the rack against the wall, I put it on my head. I picked up the sword, the gift I had received from Queen Celeste before she died, and traced over the engraving in the emerald hilt.

  Adalia.

  I smiled.

  As I slid it into its sheath, the door opened.

  “I don’t think I said come i—” In the mirror, I caught sight of Xavier. He was dressed from his pauldrons down to his boots, the helmet tucked under his arm.

  He immediately stopped as he caught sight of me, pressing his fist against his mouth, biting on his knuckle. “What?” I asked, frantically turning to look at myself in the mirror.

  “You look . . .” He paused, a sly smirk playing on his lips, “Ravishing.”

  I shook my head, letting out a laugh.

  “Even before a war, huh?”

  He walked towards me, pulling me against him. Our chestplates clanged, causing him to chuckle.

  “Xavier,” I said, raising my hands up to hold his face in my hands. “No matter what happens, I love you, more than I have

  loved anything. Remember that.”

  He pressed his lips against the ring on my finger.

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “But,” I persisted, swallowing the lump in my throat, “Xavier . . .”

  “I know that even if I tell you to stay out of trouble, you won’t,” he spoke softly, gently touching his forehead against mine. He closed his golden eyes, and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from tearing up, “Please. Survive. I can’t live without you. You are the first thought on my mind in the morning, the last thing I think of at night. After this war, come back to me.” He opened his eyes, watching me soberly. “I need you.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, and we stood in an embrace, an unspoken promise hanging between us.

  TWENTY NINE

  Xavier, Jax, Lance, Isabel, Ashes, and I stood in a circle, ankle deep in the snow. We had our arms circled around each other’s waists.

  “We’ll meet again after this war, if not here, then in the next life,” Ashes said, bowing her head.

  “If we go down, we go down fighting,” Jax said, putting his hand in the center. Lance put his on top.

  “We go down fighting,” they chorused.

  Isabel put her hand on Lance’s, then Xavier followed.

  I put one hand under theirs and one on top, giving them a squeeze.

  “We go down fighting,” I echoed.

  Isabel and Jax shared a few words privately afterward, hugging.

  We mounted our horses, and I climbed onto Omen’s back. I checked my weapons and put on my helmet.

  Lance grabbed the back of Jax’s neck, giving him a little shake.

  “You come back, you hear me? Who else am I going to throw snowballs at?”

  Jax grabbed Lance’s hand and shook it.

  “The same goes for you,” he responded, and the two boys

  grinned at each other.

  Isabel looked at me from her ivory stallion, nodding her

  head. Her brother pulled up next to her, sitting on his own milky-white horse. They stared ahead like two fierce gods, pale hair blowing around their stony faces, storms raging in their crystal blue eyes.

  Behind her sat Xavier, sitting tall on his ebony stallion.

  His smile gave me all of my strength.

  Lance trotted forward on his bay mare, sliding on his helmet. We did the same as he held up his sword.

  “I’ll see you on the other side!” he shouted. We took out our swords and with one final goodbye, dispersed.

  I stood alone.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself, and headed towards the front lines.

  THIRTY

  Flags of black and silver, moss-green and gold waved in the wind far ahead. There was a fog settling around us, much to my displeasure. The army was barely visible—I was only able to see them as they marched through the fog, slowly closing the distance between us.

  I looked behind me to see Crea and Astodia’s warriors in formation as they awaited orders for the attack.

  Behind us sat the Knights, and beside me, Taj, his destrier pawing at the ground.

  We gave each other nods, turning ahead to face the vast army that stood before us.

  “Ready?” I asked without looking at him.

  “Ready.”

  My eyes met with Aedon’s, who stood in front of her army and Trella’s specialized warriors—who King Tarquin named the Drakans—her fierce gray eyes focused on me and me alone. She sat high on her horse, raising her sword towards the sky.

  “For Dystalphi and Trella!” she cried, loud enough for us to hear from dozens of feet away.

  “For Astodia and Crea!”

  “For Astodia and Crea!” thousands of voices shouted be-

  hind me, and I whipped Omen’s reins.

  Aedon’s destrier reared, and the two armies began to run

  towards each other.

  I gritted my teeth as the large gap between the two sides began to close, growing thinner and thinner.

  Twenty feet.

  Fifteen feet.

  Ten feet.

  Five.

  Zero.

  The armies collided.

  All I heard were clangs of metal against metal, bodies slamming and the sounds of screaming men.

  Omen snarled and tore through bodies, crushing bones under his giant claws. I slashed with my sword, driving it through the chests of my enemies. Warriors fell as we ripped through them, splitting the sea of men apart.

  Omen reared, his claws slashing through metal. His roar rattled the men, causing their bones to shiver in fear.

  Above us, arrows flew into the opposing side, knocking back many of the warriors. Ashes’s plan was working.

  I let out a roar similar to Omen’s, driving my sword through the oncoming attackers. Parrying, blocking, swiping—as we flew through the army, bodies dropped like flies around us.

  Men on horses approached us, their eyes ablaze.

  “Ready, Omen?” I shouted above the thundering clangs of metal on metal, and the vociferous cries of fallen warriors.

  I raised my sword, a cry ripping from my throat as I knocked them off their horses, leaving them to the trampling mix of metal boots and iron hooves.

  Suddenly, I saw King Sadim fighting alongside me. His horse reared as he knocked men to the ground, slitting their throats.

  His cold eyes met mine.

  No mercy.

  With those words he was gone, a man clad in black standing in his place. His sword was raised, a look of wild frenzy in his eyes, ready to pierce the blade through my chest.

  Before I could block him, a fiery arrow flew from the s
ky, plunging into the side of his neck.

  “Go!” I shouted to Omen, forcing him deeper into the legion.

  I spotted Jax many feet away, his silver armor shining as his horse rose on its hind legs. Blood spattered against his pale skin, similar to the hide of his horse. The only thing he was missing now was wings.

  Kay was the next familiar face I saw. He was fighting off three men at once. Kay held a sword in each hand, the blades clashing against the attackers.

  I kept pushing Omen forward, coaxing him into the center of the army towards Aedon, their general.

  If I took her down, there was a very large chance they would call for another ceasefire. The fall of a general or king could bring an end to any war.

  I fought until my arms felt like lead, but I ignored it, and the tremor which was beginning to worsen as more and more stress was put on it.

  Hours passed, and the force of the battle didn’t slow down. Scarlet liquid stuck to my armor, skin, sword. Omen’s dark, spotted fur matted with clumps of blood.

  My helmet had been knocked off long ago, dark hair wildly flying around my face. As I charged towards a man with a spear, a sudden lung-crushing slam knocked me off of Omen. I flew off the panthera, rolling on the ground at least three times before I regained my footing.

  I looked down, making sure there were no puncture wounds

  in the armor. Looking back up, breathing heavily, I noticed a burly warrior spinning a club in his hand. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized it wasn’t spiked.

  I ducked as he ran towards me, swinging. As he stumbled past me, I spun around, plunging the blade of my sword into his back.

  As he fell forward into the blood-stained snow, I pressed one boot against his shoulder, yanking the sword out with a grunt.

  My eyes scanned the battlefield for Aedon, but I couldn’t see her anywhere. I had to be careful—I was sure she was also looking for me.

  I tried to find Omen as well, but he had also disappeared.

  Through the distance, I saw a horseman advancing towards me. Preparing myself, I spread my legs apart, holding my ground.

  As he neared me, I made direct eye contact with him.