The King Trials 2: Beyond.
~I Choose You~

When we land at the cerulean harbour. The changeover from airship to a boat is fast-paced and efficient. A mass haul from one form of transport to another, new crew, new Captain. The vessel built from acacia wood is long and sturdy.

The carvel built of the vessel is where the hull planks are laid edge to edge and fastened to a robust frame, thereby forming a smooth surface. It is square-rigged on the foremast and mainmast and lateen-rigged on the mizzenmast. Along with a high rounded stern with large aft castle, forecastle and bowsprit at the stem. A multi-deck ship that resembles a galleon.

We divert our personal belongings to our allocated cabins. Solaris, Vince and I share quarters, Treyton, Markiveus and Brennon share another. Before I know it, the voyager sets sail down a strait that leads straight to open waters.

The winds saturated with brine, strong and pleasant.

The glimmering horizon marks an infinite boundary. A beaming noontide sun shines its delight on the surface of the sea, causing the pools of shimmering white to sparkle sporadically, too quick for my eyes to catch even one twinkle.

The melody of the ocean’s ballad inspires absolute tranquillity, the idyllic waves lapping against the hull, the soaring fowls cawing in the air. I adore the sound of moving waters. It’s both weird and wonderful. I am so used to flying high in the sky; I have almost forgotten the humble phenomena of sailing below.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Solaris’s eyes like sea glass that emulate the splendid, jewel blue of the ocean.

I hum a yes. Savouring the fleeting peace, for I know it will not last.

“Truth be told, I am not so fond of our next destination.”

“I take it you are not an admirer of the cold?”

He theatrically shudders his shoulders in emphasis. “No. Nivalis is an Icelandic wonder, but the temperatures are artic, barely endurable. Frankly, their climate is warmer than their people, but you will adapt to them just fine.”

I pivot to face him. “How so?”

“You seem to have a penchant for the cold,” he says and casts a purposeful look behind me.

I follow his line of sight off my shoulders to see Kelan speaking with the Captain and Duce Merian. By destined chance, he looks up—in my direction. Our gaze meets, tethering for an intense moment, fraught with a blaze of emotions. He moves, stepping towards me but Duce Merian cuts his path, frantically relaying his concerns to him before he walks off in the direction of the sleeping quarters, forced to pursue.

My gaze sinks, I feel myself physically deflate.

“Is that how you two communicate?” Solaris asks with jeering seriousness. “Through long, wanting looks of passion. Is it the secondary stage of the mating ritual?”

I whip forward and I slam a fist at his shoulder, triggering a fit of goofy snickers. It’s interesting to see that the Herems—everyone, their complexion has darkened a shade or two, Solaris flaunts a stunning, sun-kissed skin like a honeyed bronze, a perfect golden tan.

Vince exhibits a dulcet, light tone of desert sand, a deep olive complexion.

Whereas Kelan’s exquisite silky skin remains a delicate hue of a winter’s moon. A resplendent contrast to his stoic demeanour, sculpted features chiselled into a rigid reserve.

“He is not cold,” I say unthinkingly. “Merely withdrawn, his livelihood requires him to be guarded at all times.”

He gives me a challenging look. “I swear I could hand him a newborn pup and he wouldn’t even blink. He could scare off a hellhound with a just a flick of a scowl.”

I shake my head at the melodrama. “Just because he is reticent in nature does not make him emotionally impaired. You make him sound so heartless.”

Solaris pops a flippant shoulder. “You know him best. During all the mania of what we have endured, when did you become so acquainted to the Primus?”

Heat pinches my cheeks, flustered. I clear my throat, diverting, I say, “So before. Do you have trade with Nivalis? Because that is the only thing that grants you entry to the illustrious frost kingdom.”

Solaris smiles at me knowingly, sensing my discomfort. He submits to the diversion. “Yes, we buy their expensive furs.”

I frown at him.

“What, they have an excellent medley of furs. The winters in our Province can border brutality.”

A wistful enters his eyes. “I was sent in to negotiate a new bargain. I struck a new deal, after arduous intervals of wrangling a reasonable price from of an Adon. He told me that a good bargain is when both parties leave slightly disappointed. I assure you; it was more than slightly.”

I crack into a smile.

“I do love the smell of the ocean breeze.” Vince plops against the railing, crossing his wrists on the head, allowing his hands to dangle on the other side. He tips his nose to the air. “The salty breath of the sea.”

Solaris frees a short series of contrived coughs. “Pardon me.” He pats two beats on his chest. “You must forgive me, Hera. I am allergic to foul company, for the sake of my health, I will be taking my leave.”

He whirls around and saunters towards the quarterdeck.

“Come now, Solaris,” Vince says to his back in mock reproach. “I thought we were starting to form a bond—dare I call it a friendship.”

“I do not befriend brutes.” Without looking back, he salutes to the sun exaggeratedly. “Especially not vipers of the likes of you.”

Vince grunts, irritation nips at the corners of his face. “Some speak the name of Ethane in reverence and in fear, earned well by our history. Others despise us because of it.”

My attention returns to the sea. “He’s obliviously heeding to your counsel. Never trust anyone.”

He looks ahead. “I did not say, never.”

I glance at him sideways, his own daggers sheathed, the scabbards integrated into the back of his lamellar leather vest, near the base. Familiar leather bands like thin plaited rope strapped round his biceps.

“Then who in this world do you trust?”

“Trusted,” he amends brusquely. Sorrow flares in his gaze. “He perished, and it my trust in anyone.”

I mull over his words, ruminating on all I know about him. “One thing I knew of you before the trials is that you were famously close companions with the Dophan.”

He shakes his head grimly. “I only knew him as Alejendio. Little Aljay.”

I nod slowly. “How did you two meet?”

“We did not meet. We clashed,” he says and a small nostalgic chuckle flows with his words. “Our paths collided one fateful night. Do you want to hear the short story or the full version?”

“Full version.” I turn to lean my side against the railing, planting my elbow on its head. Attentive to him. “I want the complete experience.”

He smirks at me. His melancholy expression fades into bittersweet reminiscence.

“Several cycles ago I travelled to the Pantheon to conduct business concerning the affairs of my Regnum,” he begins, his narrating voice like a father regaling his devilsome tales of his youth to his children. “I was residing in a manor house in the City of Old. I came to realise that it was the time of first moon, which occurred that night. Also known as the masked moon.”

A reminder pings in my mind. “The masquerade revelry.”

“A night when anyone can become anything,” he garnishes. “A night of mischief-making or boundless pleasure.” He shoots me a wink. “I rarely indulge in leisure-orientated festivities. Every event or gathering I attend serves a specific purpose of diplomacy. A way for an Ethane to have a foothold in every kingdom. My father trusts me to go in his stead to complete high-profile objectives for him.”

Vince flips over so his back is against the railing, propping up both elbows behind him. “But that night, I rewarded myself one night. One night to not bear the obligations of my Regnum, the trust of my father. Just for a time to enjoy a moment without having to dwell on a strategic approach that would optimise results or socialise with people purely because my father targeted them. With the sole duty to sway them into my father’s sphere of influence and align their interests with his.”

I nod responsively. Perceivably, Vince’s relational dynamic with his father reflects my own. His father commands him to do his bidding out of loyalty and love. I love my father, therefore I do whatever he commands me.

“I had my attendant retrieve me a plain, eye mask and what a peasant would deem fine clothing. I wanted to conceal my nobility and blend into the crowds. And I did, I even wore a hood—determined to cover myself as much as possible. I knew that my handsomeness would demand the attention of many.”

I shake my head at him, looking away momentarily.

“I mainly observed from the shadows. I marvelled at how… carefree they were. The common folk that had barely anything to their name and possibly even owned only one family estate.”

I arch a brow at him.

“I know,” he says with sincere shock. “A poverty such as that must be painful. So I thought. Though they had nothing, most of them danced in rags, but they danced no less. They danced so jovially… they were… happy. An alien concept.”

I find myself smiling, nearly dominating my face. My mind lingering on the people of the Prime. Armathis. Home.

“Once I had my fill of their contagious euphoria, I left.” A shadow casts itself across his eyes. “The streets were clogged with the masses of that night, so I took the long route, the back alleys to return to my manor house. Colossal mistake.”

Intrigued, I tilt closer.

“Materialising from nothing, two cloaked bandits trolled towards me, simply oozing arrogance.” Vince contorts his face into a hideous look, snarling at me. “What ye doing here, stranger?” he says in a rough accent, his voice conjured from the same coarseness.

He releases the facade. “Ready for a fight, I coolly pocketed my hands.” He slides his hands into his trouser pockets. “I told them: I am not looking for any trouble, I was just on my way home.”

“He and his partner shared a guffaw.” Vince reforms the facade of his obvious assailant. “Are ye daft to travel these paths at night. This may be the High King’s landing, but unsavoury peoples walk this parts.”

His facade melts into his trademark smirk. “I merely snorted at his remark. And I politely requested if we could move to the part where they try to burgle me and I castigate them because of it, leaving them running with their tails tucked between their legs.”

Vince straightens and performs a—purposefully—atrocious fighting stance. “They were poised to attack, and I was ready for my bed. Alas, another player joined our game, striding towards me from my rear.” He relaxes and tosses a glance behind him. “He imperiously said: A thief is not one that steals, but the one that is caught. And you, poor fool, have been caught.”

Vince lapses into a moment of heartfelt laughs. “His voice rung with innate authority. He wore an elaborate full-face mask, his clothing embroidered like a true noble. This masked being stood at my side and faced these bandits like I was in need of rescuing.”

I watch him, utterly enthralled, viewing this spectacle of entertaining theatrics.

“His sheer presence bespoke stateliness.” He corrects his posture and places one stiff forearm across his forearm and the other behind his back. “With a lofty gaze of judgement, he spoke down to them and said: Let the traveller go or I will go through you.”

I gape at Vince. “He did not say that,” I say with stubborn disbelief.

I only met the Dophan once in my life and he seemed to be a kind soul, a gentle spirit.

Vince nods, affirming and continues seamlessly. “Of course, the bandits roared another vexing guffaw and asked: And who do you think ye are prissrat?”

“And he fiercely responded saying—” Vince inclines his head and lights up a smouldering look. “Someone you would be wise to obey, scum such as yourself should recognise their betters.”

Vince places his hand on the hilt of his imaginary sword. “The quite one suddenly released a sound.” He whistles a long burst. “Out of the shadows, hulking goons came out cracking their knuckles, flashing us yellowy smiles.”

Avid, I listen with bated breath.

“The bandits had an entire crew of rouges, and we were hopelessly outnumbered.” He snaps his head at me, leaning in.” Vince draws close to me. “He snatched the back of my collar.” Vince latches onto my wrist. “And he told me the most profound thing I have ever heeded to in my days alive.”

“What, what did he say?” I ask urgently.

He stares into my eyes boringly. “Run.”

And it dawns on me. The game is afoot.

Vince rushes forward, spinning me around, and he whisks me away, both of us running fancifully through the ship. Absorbed in our own fantasy of Vince’s fabrication, authored by his vivid narration that thrusts us into an adventure.

“Him and I ran from the horde of relentless bandits chasing us,” he exclaims over rushing wind. We dash down from the upper to the main deck. “And as fate would have it, an additional surge bolted from the north, surrounding us from our front and rear. With his tight grip, he dragged me to the left, taking a sharp turn.”

He pulls me left; we dart across the main deck to the other side, heading towards crew members hauling a long crate upon their shoulders. The only leeway is the gap between them, directly underneath the moving crate.

In a neat flourish, we crouch down and slip under the cargo, emerging unhindered as we resume our whimsical journey.

“Little did we know that same route was compromised.” Vince comes to a jarring standstill and I halt abruptly because of it. Dramatically, he desperately looks behind us and ahead of us. “We were trapped. The only thing we could do was to fight.”

Vince looks back at me and his gaze drops to his grip. “Appreciative but annoyed, I told him: Your intrusion showed natural courage. But now I have to safeguard us both.” He glowers at his hand. “And you can let go of me now.”

On cue, I rip my hand out of his grip.

“Simultaneously, we drew our swords.” Vince reaches for his back and unsheathes one, bollock dagger as a visual replacement. “The mystery being scoffed at me and said: Quite smug for a being who was going to be ravaged by wolvers. Everyone knows that they hunt in packs.”

Vince smirks at me. But this one is ominous, dangerous. “Side by side, we launched into an attack.” He lunges at me, swiping diagonal arcs which I narrowly evade. My eyes expand beyond their sockets.

He unleashes a flurry of assaults, fast but deliberately avoidable.

“You know you could just say thank you,” Vince says in a royal tone, whilst still slashing his dagger at me, as we complete a dance of attack and evade. “Fighting with practically one hand behind my back, I responded with: Hmph, I do not need your help, therefore I do not need to reward you with unmerited gratitude.”

Vince ceases his faux onslaught. “We had broken through a barricade of bandits. We spilled no blood, but still, what an adrenaline rush that was. We raced down the path ahead.” He jerks his head at me, motioning for me to follow as we rapidly approach the fore-deck, passing a couple of perplexed crew members.

“Ahead of us was a towering flank of a public edifice. At the base was a stack of crates, higher up, poles jutting out of the wall with protruding elements perfect for hand placement. Effortlessly, the mystery being leaped on the crates and propelled himself onto the poles, swinging through the air like a trapeze. I was on his tail, scaling the wall until I vaulted over a railing. Both of us safe on the rooftops.”

Vince and I step into the privy, right in front of the figurehead mounted on the nose of the ship.

“Blessed be their lack of agility.”

He revolves and begins to circle me menacingly. “My grandmother warned me that a foe cannot crush an empire, even destroyed, it can rebuild and become even stronger. But an enemy from within, an empire can never arise.”

My mind marinates on his words.

“Then the mystery being levels his blade at my throat.” Suddenly Vince seizes me from behind, hooking his arm round my throat and jabbing the dagger near my neck, the tip barely touching the skin. Impulsively, my hands are clutched onto his forearm.

“Undaunted, I said: So you saved me only to complete the misdeed yourself?” His hold on me persists. “He was suspicious of me and questioned my skills: Only Vanguard soldiers fight that well, but you are no soldier.”

He releases a humoured breath, skimming over my ear. “I was vaguely impressed. He was perceptive at least. I nodded and said: Just as you are no commoner or even a noble. Surprised, he reluctantly lowered his blade.”

Vince slowly releases me, and I step away quickly to reface him.

He looks at me and gestures to my attire. “I pointed out that his cloths were far too extravagant, and his mannerism exclaimed royalty. He played coy and claimed his clothing was completely outdated, amiss from the latest fashions, a castoff from his master. And he adopted his mannerism from being an attendant to the High King’s son.”

Vince’s hand disappears behind his back, sheathing his dagger. “I revealed my identity, then so did he and we found our situations imitated the other. From then on, we never missed a masked moon.”

I study his face, interpreting his eyes. “Is that what really happened?”

Vince’s jaw tightens, ticking. “I might have let out a minor piece,” he says through clenched teeth. “During the fight, he sort of saved my life. I was arrogant—did not view them as an actual threat, so I let my guard down. Even bigger mistake. When he parried a deadly strike, he demanded I thank him since it was now what he deserved.”

I fold my arms. “And did you thank him?”

“I bought him a pint of ale, that qualifies.”

I nod, grinning. “What a captivating tale of the Dophan and the Emikrollian. Very...immersive, I felt like I too was there fighting off the bandits.”

He chuckles, his grin mirroring my own. “Not me fault, lass, ye asked for the full, vivid experience. Me was fulfilling ye wish.” Formality refines his tone. “Besides, you went along with it rather well. If the whole ‘ascending the throne’ plan does not work out, at least you know you have a promising future in theatre.”

My head bops from side to side. “Perhaps. I just did not know you could be so… playful.”

He moans thoughtfully. “There are many things you do not know about me. As I am sure you can say the same.”

After dinner, most of our convoy retired to their quarters. I find that I can muster the valour to face much, but sleep is the one thing I dread the most. Before I initiated my stroll round the ship, I went back to my quarters to retrieve my long coat, one that I have not worn in a long time since there was no need to. The abrupt change in temperature has prompted the need for it.

Prolonging the inevitable, I dawdle around the ship. A few friendly crew members smile at me, and I give one back in return. Noticeably, they are all dressed in thick clothing.

Nearing the mainmast, I spot Reinsbure speaking with another Avangard soldier. I catch his eye. He concludes his conversation and sends the other off with a clap on his shoulder before he meanders to me.

“Reinsbure,” I nod in greeting. “It has been a while since we last spoke. How are you faring?”

Confusion screws his face into a frown, like my words are foreign to him.

He shakes his head as if to banish his bafflement. “My apologies. Uh—It has just been a long time since I was asked about my wellbeing, even it was disingenuous.”

I give him an earnest look. “If it was, I would have never asked.”

He smiles at the ground bashfully, squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat. “My apologies again—I never meant to—I was not accusing you of being disingenuous.”

I wave off his apology with flapping hands. “How about we start over?”

He snaps a nod. “I am well, Hera. And yourself?”

“Aurora,” I correct quickly. “And I am well. How do you feel about travelling to Nivalis?”

He shrugs indifferently. “How I feel does not matter, it’s my duty to safely escort you and the others. Whether it be a place as scorching as the Night Desert or as cold as Nivalis.”

I see why Primus Kelan chose him to be his second-in-command.

He gives a brief scan of our surroundings. “Were you searching for someone?”

Honestly, I say, “No, fresh air does me good. I am in no hurry to return to a stuffy cabin, one that reeks with the fusty odour of decay.”

An amused breath blows from his nostrils. “I am sure all of this must be quiet the change for you highborns.”

Ha. Quiet?

“And it isn’t for you?”

His hand stills on the pommel of his sword. “Let me see. Our lives in our own hands, peril ever prowling, sleeping in barely tolerably conditions, gruelling travels.” He smiles at me proudly. “That’s our life. Except our lives are merely shields to defend others.”

My eyebrows quirk. “Ah.” A thought emerges in my mind. “You do what you are commanded. But do you ever question why? What drives you to lead this kind of self-sacrificing life?”

He eyes me curiously, a hint of suspicion swirls in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

I inhale a deep breath, chest inflating—filling with something I cannot identify. “There are some things I merely wish to understand.”

He nods. The corner of his lips curl. “Well, when I wish to understand something.” He turns his gaze skyward. “I look to the heavens for answers.”

He watches the darkened sky for a continued time, I believe he might actually be signalling to something. I follow his gaze up. Pinpricks of silver light appearing.

Then my eyes glide up the mainmast, up to the crow’s nest, the roundhouse all the way at the peak. A great shadow shifts on top. My gaze levels and Reinsbure wags his brows at me pointedly.

I narrow my eyes at him, amused. “I know what you are doing.”

He raises his hands innocently. “Do you? Because I do not.” He drops his hands. “If you will excuse me, I have to ensure my comrades stay clear of the sailor’s rum.”

He bows his head and drifts past me.

My eyes locate the rope dangling from the railing of the crow’s nest all the way down to my reach. A long and strenuous climb, but one worth the exertion. I saunter closer to the mainmast and rub my wrapped hands readily.

I spring up and grip the rope; I hoist myself up, muscles tense, requiring tremendous upper body strength. Determined, I pull up with my knees tucked; the rope twined between one leg. I glance down at the aerial view of the ship, shrinking with the increasing distance.

Ultimately, I reach the top and I secure my arm over the railing; I heave myself up to steal a glimpse of Primus Kelan staring off into the distance, his back faced towards me.

Carefully, I snake over the railing and land silently on my feet.

The crow’s nest is like an exclusive viewing gallery, circular with the apex of the mainmast that lengthens from the centre. I creep around it.

“Your stealth technique needs work.”

I come out fully and move to sidle his flank. “How did you know it was me?”

“I did not know, I felt it was you.” His words so simple yet weighted with unknowable complexity.

My eyes peruse the picturesque scene ahead. The fusion of black purple ebbing into the molten sphere of golden brilliance at the heart of the horizon. Twilight merging into night.

My eyes linger on the blended streaks of midnight blue.

“Do you know what I feel?” I ask rhetorically. “A magnetic lure. In your absence, I feel drawn to you. When I am close to you, I feel… repelled.”

He turns his head to look at me. His stare burns my periphery. “And are you sure it is I that does the repelling?”

I spare him a quick look.

He turns his gaze back to the scenery. “To push you away is like trying to go against an onrushing torrent. I have accepted that no matter what, my heart will always gravitate towards you.”

A swarm of flutters explodes in my gut, heart throbbing in my throat, obstructing my words.

“Despite the things you keep from me,” he adds bitterly. His resonant voice resounds with emotions too strong to name—an agglomeration of them.

Tentative fingers reach for the railing for stability. “And what do you think I keep from you? Are we not entitled to our privacy? Even you must know that some things are best left unsaid.”

He rotates his shoulders to face me, looming.

“Ever since we left Cistern. I am still haunted by the sight of bruises on your neck—torn by guilt that whatever happened, occurred because I was not there to stop it. Your privacy withholds whatever truth of that ordeal.”

I recoil from him, fingers pressing into the wood.

“Your extended sickness and sudden recovery,” he says with a tincture of resentment. “Then those… linen wraps you constantly wear, like you’re hiding something on your skin.”

“Or to protect an open wound from infection,” I retort.

“On both forearms? When the Xelem attacked, one of them carved claw marks at the top part of your arm, which has also miraculously healed. And those wraps only extend to your elbows.”

I gawk at the precision, my gaze skims over my bandaged knuckles. I curl my fingers into a fist.

“We do not have control over lives, not on what is done to us. But we do have control on how we react in turn. What has been done is done. And if anything, I am stronger for it.”

Kelan glances at me askance, visibly mulling over the vague sentiment.

“What are you doing up here?”

He exhales heavily. “A storm is coming.”

My gaze peruses the calm ocean. All is still. “Are you certain?”

“When I was a Vanguard plebe, fresh out of recruitment. I did many travels on sea to reach military outposts, and I learnt to familiarise myself with the signs.”

Whining winds guide loose strands to my face, and I swipe them away.

Kelan jerks his chin ahead. “Cirrus clouds, high and wispy, they are an indicator of many things. I spotted the edges of inbound storms and cloud-banks. The first one that alerted me was the sudden drop of temperature, a key sign to a potential storm front.”

“How long?”

“Less than a day.” He turns to lean his back against the railing, crossing his arms. “If we go around, we go off course and we do not have the time for further delay.”

My head slants to one side. “Rather a delay than gamble the lives of everyone aboard, wouldn’t you say?”

He mumbles an agreement. “The storm may get rough, but it will be manageable.”

An interlude of cumbersome silence stretches to a point that it becomes insufferable.

“Well, then.” I knock a light fist on the railing. “I will leave you to enjoy your solitude.”

I turn to leave, but an iron grip captures my wrist.

I look back at him. His eyes do a slow crawl of me from head to toe.

“I can only enjoy it if you remain,” he says softly. “Be alone with me,” he says as more of an order than a request.

Gently, he reels me in then releases his grip. But that does not stop me, I move closer, standing between his legs. I gaze up to lose myself in those eyes like an aether, the void of black, an abysm of star-flecked pools.

“I want to see more of you,” I say, the words fleeing before I can stop them. “Instead of short-lived moments between our dalliances with death or being tested by foreign powers.”

A rare smile splits across his face, his teeth iridescent. “Well, I simply adore those fleeing moments. Because it makes each second invaluable.” His gaze gestures expansively. “To the moments in between.”

A smile blooms on my face, my heart aflutter. “I like this you.”

“This me?” A slight wrinkle on the bridge of his nose.

“Kelan,” I say with teeming contentment. “Not Primus, but simply Kelan.”

He nods solemnly. “Are you sure it is me you are fond of or is it your penchant for the cold?”

My eyes widen. I relish in awe at the grin that bursts on his face, dazzling and heart-stopping like the cosmos itself beams its ethereal smile at me. An other-worldly kind of splendour.

“You heard that?” I cover my eyes with my hands, utterly mortified. Right, he’s a meta, so he has acute hearing. I fall forward to bury myself in his chest. “How much did you hear?” Words muffled.

He laughs, the deep rumble reverberates. “Only that, I deliberately tuned out the rest of that conversation.”

I suppress a snort. Curious, I lift my head to meet his eyes. “You seemed to be in quite a serious conversation with the Captain and the Duce. Yet you were overhearing our conversation?”

His brow curves, and he throws his gaze overboard. “I must admit that I am both concerned and envious of the amount of time you two share together. You have grown inseparable in spite of the severity of your mutual circumstance.”

“You needn’t worry.” I elevate myself to the tip of my toes to quickly nuzzle my nose with his. “Solaris is like a brother I wish I had. But do not let our perceived closeness fool you. I know where we stand. We both do.”

“I know he’s harmless,” Kelan states. Fury flickers in his gaze. “Vince however—”

“Not this again.” I move to pull away, but his hands grab my hips, drawing me back, colliding against him. Encompassing me in the comforting warmth that he radiates.

“I thought I made myself clear about him.”

He nods fervently. “You say one thing, but again.” A ferocious alteration in his tone. “Your actions say another.”

I sigh exasperatedly. “What do you want me to do, ignore him? Cease all kinds of interaction with him?”

“Yes—” he blurts, he makes a verbal retreat, “—at least with Markiveus and Brennon they are one dimensional, their approach and intentions are blatant. But with Vince, his entire disposition is layered with countless facades to where I believe even he doesn’t recognise which the real one of him is.”

I lay my hand on his chest and raise it to caress his cheek. His eyes flutter close, jaw clamped, the muscle protruding.

“With many highborn children. We do not choose who we become, we are moulded in the image of our Regnum. Who we become is chosen for us. With the legacy of Regnum Ethane, he bore much… expectation. It’s all very… complicated.”

His eyes peel open, animosity brewing. His brows clash. “You’re quite protective of him.”

My hand recedes to his chest. “I understand him,” I adjust firmly.

“Something is off about him and my instincts have never led me astray.”

“And you are right,” I placate. “He probably has many nefarious secrets, he’s an Ethan after all, but there is more to a being than his lineage and he’s secrets are his to keep. And what of you, Primus. Since you are on an endless hunt to delve for others’ secrets. What secrets do you keep?”

In a speed of a snuffed out flame. His expression reverts to its natural state, armed by his impenetrable guard. I instantly regret the question.

“You misunderstand me. I do not care for his secrets or even yours. I care for what can and what has placed you in danger. And with him. Whatever he harbours, I believe he is the danger.”

What possible danger could he possess?

If only he knew the truth that flows through my veins.

“Then the same can be said of me. Every death caused was by my hand. The only threat I see is in the mirror.”

A grimace obscures his apathy. “You are not the threat.”

“But he is. And as it should be, he is my rival.” I glimpse past him at the blackened waters rippling. “Even so, we both know I can handle myself.”

“That does not ease my qualms.”

“Then. What. Will.”

A laden silence descends.

Heated under his stare, singed by his eyes.

I move away from him, and he allows it this time.

“What is it that you want?”

“You know what I want,” he says, his voice strained.

“Perhaps, but pretend I am not that smart. I need to hear you say it.” I shrug. “Or is the only thing you fear are your feelings?”

He lifts himself straight. “Fear?” He utters the word like he has never heard it before. Skulking towards me with a gait of predator; a daunting, gradual pace. I retreat with every advance towards me. “You think I fear my feelings?”

My back hits the head of the mainmast.

“I do not fear my feelings, I fear where they are leading me.” His eyes transfixed on my face like he’s searing every detail of it into memory. “I fear you.”

A twinge pricks my chest. I try to speak, but my throat is bolted shut.

His guard crumbles, his gaze drops. “I fear for you—what will happen to you if you…chose to be with me. If you knew the truth of me.”

I urgently close the gap, and I lift both hands to cup his cheeks. “You are too late. For I have already chosen. Even in a hundred lifetimes, a thousand versions of reality. I would still—and always—choose you.”

Kelan winces at my words.

“Let me in,” I say, begging. “Let me see every inch of you, know your darkest depths so that too I can treasure. I want to know all of you, just as I want you to know all of me. The only one who is stopping you is you.”

“Because I must,” he snaps, he struggles to manage his temper. “Every choice I make is to protect others, and I would go to any lengths to protect you. Even I must defy gravity itself. I am afraid, you were right.”

He takes a reflexive step back, rifting the space between us.

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

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