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Chapter 19

  Zeus watched with a satisfied sneer as the Siren hurtled across the arena, crashing through five trees consecutively, splintering each one upon impact.

  “That crow beastman…he must come on the expedition,” Drucilla declared, pointing at Rahn.

  Lord Vortigern’s fists clenched, his eyes reddening with restrained anger. Drucilla’s gaze slid upward to him. “Are you angry over your son’s death?”

  He gritted his teeth, holding back his response, but his expression was answer enough.

  “If he hadn’t acted so shamelessly, he’d still be alive,” Drucilla scoffed. “Like father, like son.”

  “Still, a life was lost; we should show some compassion,” Neveah murmured, though her tone lacked sincerity. She had no attachment to Valentino’s death, and her words felt more like a duty than genuine sympathy.

  Zeus remained silent, tapping his fingers against the armrest, a quiet rhythm that hinted at his focus. “It appears Verena has arrived,” he announced, drawing their attention to the white-haired rabbit striding towards the Siren.

  “Finally, someone worth watching,” Drucilla commented, her tone laced with intrigue.

  Neveah stayed silent, allowing the Dragon twins to immerse themselves in the unfolding scene.

  Verena walked slowly, seemingly unfazed by the monster ahead. Drucilla couldn’t help but anticipate the battle, leaning forward. Verena unsheathed her sword, and as the audience looked on in hushed anticipation, she leapt gracefully. She seemed to step onto an invisible platform mid-air, but her foot landed firmly on wood. A column of wood had sprouted from the ground, supporting her weight above the battlefield. The crowd gasped, momentarily silenced by the display.

  Leaping from one rising column to another, her steps were fluid, each movement more graceful than the last. With a final turn in mid-air, her sword poised, she released a slash powerful enough to cleave through bark and force Rahn to retreat. The strike split the Siren in two, and the creature shrieked as its halves scrambled towards each other, desperate to reconnect.

  Verena landed effortlessly, both feet steady, and the crowd erupted into cheers, chanting her name.

  Lord Vortigern’s heart soared from depths of despair to dizzying heights. This was why he had struggled to control the Vortigern tree in recent years—it was because of his daughter. He was too elated to question why she’d hidden her powers from him, assuming her display was meant to honour him and bring him glory in front of the dragon twins. This was his daughter, his blood, a treasure beyond measure.

  “I’ve met your daughter before,” Zeus said, a casual remark that made Lord Vortigern’s heart skip. “Today, she’s quite…remarkable.”

  That mere comment was enough to lift Lord Vortigern’s spirits even higher.

  Marriage? There was no need to limit her prospects—she could draw the eye of a Dragon Prince, linking their family to the celestial realms of Nephel itself. His hands trembled with excitement; Valentino’s death now seemed like a minor loss, for another son could always be born.

  “Perhaps something of worth does come from this small city after all,” Drucilla added, her eyes sharp as she observed the fight. The Siren had reformed, launching a fresh attack, but Verena met it head-on, her sword glinting as it sliced through the air. She looked every bit a general in the making, her boots stained with deep red blood—a true Vortigern.

  Rahn slipped back into the shadows, allowing Verena to revel in the spotlight, and made his way directly to Hadassah, who watched the battle quietly. When she saw him approach, a warm smile softened her face, and she reached out, ruffling his hair gently. “Good job, Rahn,” she praised, her hand lingering briefly with comforting warmth. Glancing over her shoulder at Zarek, she added with a spark of excitement, “I think it’s time for us to show off a little. I still have to get to Veres.”

  Zarek’s eyes lit up, as if he’d been given permission to join the fray. Unsheathing his sword, he stepped forward, and with a shared nod of understanding, he and Rahn moved in tandem, falling into familiar rhythms. Though they hadn’t trained together for months, their coordinated movements returned as if no time had passed.

  While the two of them engaged in combat, Hadassah took a different approach, circling the perimeter of the fight. Her movements were purposeful, yet she drew little attention to herself, something she seemed perfectly content with.

  “What’s that one doing?” Drucilla muttered, pointing at Hadassah from the private booth.

  Those in the booth turned their eyes to her, watching with mild curiosity as Hadassah collected sticky tree sap, adding pink beads from her waist to form a large, adhesive ball. She wore gloves to handle the sticky concoction, and once satisfied, she raised a hand—a signal Rahn immediately noticed, alerting Verena, who nodded in acknowledgement.

  Rahn disengaged from the fight while Zarek stayed, creating a distraction for the Siren. Zarek glanced around, momentarily disoriented, until he spotted Hadassah. She held a strange, viscous ball dotted with her pink beads.

  Hadassah observed her creation with a tired sigh, her body chain shimmering faintly as it slithered like serpents over her hands as if they were alive. “I do wonder if this is worth all the trouble,” she mused, her eyes narrowing with determination. “At least after this, I won’t need to pull another all-nighter for a while.” The chains around her chest began to glow as they snaked under her gloves, reinforcing her right hand.

  She muttered to herself, “What did I name you?” forgetting the name she’d given this new weapon, but it hardly mattered now. The chains glistened, and she dashed towards the Siren.

  The Siren, noticing her advance, dislocated its jaw, widening its mouth as if to swallow her whole. But with a swift command, her chains burst from her glove, binding around the creature’s face, forcing its gaping mouth shut inch by inch.

  “I don’t think you understand,” she said, her voice low as the chains dragged the creature towards her. “Between us, you should’ve been the one running.”

  The chains constricted tightly around its face, reducing its gaping mouth to a narrow opening, just large enough for her purpose. As the Siren struggled in confusion, Hadassah thrust the sticky, bead-laden ball into its mouth. The chains held tight as they flung the creature upward.

  Hadassah—glove lost to the sap—watched as the Siren was launched skyward. With a slight innocent smile, she mouthed one word.

  “Boom.”

  The Siren soared high into the air, its body twisting and writhing as it ascended, the sticky mass within its mouth bubbling and pulsing. In one horrible, tense moment, everything went still—then, with a deafening crack, the Siren erupted.

  Blood and chunks burst outward in every direction, an explosion of viscera that sprayed across the arena. The arena was painted with splatters of red, bark dampened by the mist of gore. The blast left nothing untouched; streams of blood dripped from branches, pooling in rivulets on the ground.

  The crowd gasped, the collective shock gripping each spectator in silence before a ripple of awe spread through them. A few watched with morbid fascination, others covering their mouths in disgust or horror as the arena lay drenched in the aftermath.

  In the private booth, Drucilla leaned forward, her lips stretched in a wide, almost delirious smile as she watched the scene unfold. Her eyes shone, reflecting the crimson-streaked carnage below. The explosion delighted her, her gaze fixated on Hadassah, who stood unwavering amidst the blood-soaked arena. She should have been drenched, but the crow beastman had resurfaced, covering her with his wings as she watched the results of her efforts.

  Drucilla clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm augmenting the horror of what they had all just witnessed. “Now that was a spectacle worth watching.”

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  The moment Zarek left the arena, he came face-to-face with Neveah, waiting just outside. Before he could speak, her hand shot up, landing a hot slap on his cheek. He didn’t flinch; her strength was like an ant’s compared to an elephant’s.

  “I probably needed that,” he admitted, offering a small, weary smile.

  “Oh, you find this funny, do you?” she asked, her voice shrill with frustration.

  He felt the pang of guilt rise. She had every reason to be angry. “You said I could choose my path,” he replied, voice barely a whisper.

  “I know! I know!” she said, taking a shaky breath, visibly working to calm herself. Her hands clenched as she looked up at him, her voice softening but edged with pain. “I just… I just wish it wasn’t this path, Zarek. You’ll die, don’t you understand?”

  The man only beamed, as if she hadn’t just spoken of his death. “Don’t you think it would be fitting to die by her side?”

  Neveah’s eyes widened; her expression caught between disbelief and heartbreak. And then, suddenly, she laughed—a small, broken sound.

  “You idiot,” she said, her voice trembling as she raised her fist to pound weakly against his bloodied armour. “You idiot.” She hit him again, each blow weaker than the last, until all she had left were tears.

  Zarek didn’t mind her hits; he only pulled her into a long, warm hug. “Who’s going to carry your shopping when I’m gone?” He teased gently.

  She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know. No one else is strong enough.”

  It wasn’t true; at most, she bought trinkets and light gowns. Anyone could carry them, but somehow, it felt like they’d be too heavy without him by her side.

  On days like this, she loathed her heritage. She hated seeing the threads of people’s lives; she hated being the one who saw all. She despised being a Seer.

  For twenty years, they had been siblings.

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  For twenty years, they had been family.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  The first thing Hadassah did once the trial was over was take a bath. There would be a banquet tonight to honour the descent of the Dragon Princess, and she would be expected to attend to celebrate a successful trial.

  Rahn had gone straight to sleep as he usually did after an exhaustive day; the longest he had slept was 24 hours. She was so worried she kept checking on him to make sure he was still breathing.

  Hadassah was halfway through drying her hair before she noticed a dress displayed in her room. It was shimmering blue, reminiscent of the midnight sky, an open back with delicate pearl guards. She reached out to touch the fabric, marvelling at its quality. A note on her desk caught her eye.

  ‘Kaladin wanted to find you something, but I insisted he leave it to me. I got you something far better than your usual. If you need help with your hair, just come to me.

  Kaladin has a surprise for you later to congratulate you! Look stunning!’

  Hadassah laughed, easily imagining Neveah’s voice behind the words. Carefully taking the dress off the mannequin, she made her way to Neveah’s room.

  Neveah was wearing a thin, translucent cream robe that flowed around her figure like water clinging to the body of an emerging merman. Even in her personal space, she exuded beauty, almost overwhelming in its perfection. “Come, sit by my vanity. I’ll grab my hair tools,” she said, guiding Hadassah to a large desk against the opposite wall. The stool was so plush that Hadassah felt like she could melt into it. Hadassah looked at herself in the mirror; her eyes were tired, shadows darkening the skin beneath them.

  “Alright! We need to start soon if you want to make it to the banquet on time,” Neveah said as she returned, carrying a few items in her hands, including what appeared to be a metal comb attached to a wooden handle. The comb’s teeth were so thin, Hadassah doubted it could pass through her hair. Neveah caught her skeptical look and laughed. “You must have really lived under a rock. Don’t worry, your pretty little head, and leave it all to me.”

  Hadassah watched in silence as Neveah combed through her hair, working meticulously, section by section. Neveah hummed a song Hadassah had never heard before, but at some point, the humming stopped. “Don’t be too hard on Zarek,” Neveah said, her words seemingly out of nowhere. “He didn’t know.”

  “I know, but when he talks like that, even if he didn’t know, I couldn’t help it. I just felt angry,” Hadassah admitted with a sigh.

  “Well, it can be frustrating, but you have to understand—not everyone is like Kaladin and I. He wasn’t privy to the information we have. He couldn’t see, so he couldn’t judge accurately.”

  Hadassah fell silent. Was it really necessary to know everything before making judgements? Anyone with a brain should have known not to say those words, half-caste or not.

  “Let me open your eyes a little so you can judge accurately,” Neveah continued. “You know Zarek had no parents; well, except his mother.”

  “I know.”

  “So you should have an idea now, why he might hate humans.”

  Hadassah still wasn’t sure. “What did she do to him?”

  Neveah did not answer her question directly: “I think it’s best you ask Zarek yourself. I honestly wanted to talk about something else, but this has been pressing on my soul.”

  Hadassah shifted in her seat. “Is everything alright?”

  “I am going back to my home country.”

  Hadassah went silent; this was sudden; she expected Neveah to come with them to Veres. “Does your father want you back?”

  Neveah chuckled, “I have no father, and my mother is dead. My siblings have their own destinies, and so I am going back of my own volition.”

  “But why?”

  “Don’t you think I‘ve played around long enough? I’ve been avoiding my responsibilities as the Princess of Orlaith; you should be reprimanding me.” She said slightly upbeat.

  “But who will have tea with me now?” Hadassah was genuinely concerned; Kaladin was too busy; Zarek was too obsessed with training; and Rahn was just stressful.

  “Well, you can always visit me in Orlaith, I will always welcome you.”

  ‘I guess Rahn can fly us there, but still…’

  “Is this really what you want?”

  Neveah’s hands, which had been straightening Hadassah’s hair paused. “I am a Seer Hadassah; Seers are bound to the will of the heavens; I cannot run away from my destiny forever.”

  Hadassah kept silent; she did not know much about destiny nor did she care much for it.

  Seeing her silence, Neveah continued. “Since I won’t be going to Veres, you need to take good care of each other. Please do not abandon them.” The last part of her sentence was quiet, too quiet for Hadassah to hear, but as she said those words, her hands shook ever so slightly.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Zarek sat in the grand hall, picking at his food with little interest. The sound of laughter and muffled conversations swirled around him; he hated all the eyes that latched onto him as they talked about his glorious victory above such a monster.

  Just as he was about to push his plate away, the hall’s atmosphere shifted. Neveah entered, draped in a ridiculous gown, her presence instantly capturing the attention of everyone in the room. A pair of dark gloves ran from her fingers to her elbows, her posture perfect—she was perfect. The epitome of royalty, if it weren’t for her pride plastered all over her green eyes, he would take more time to appreciate her beauty. His gaze shifted to the figure trailing just behind her. Hadassah entered the room, and Zarek felt his breath hitch.

  She wore a stunning deep blue gown that glimmered like the night sky; pearls clung to her neck, cascading down her back rows. Her hair was different, but he liked it just as much as her usual style.

  Neveah may have stolen the spotlight, but Zarek’s eyes were glued to the woman behind her. The earlier aggravation and anxiety faded, leaving him with a scared feeling—one that had been nagging at him for days and had finally taken root in this moment. Maybe it was the dress, the way it clung to her figure with such grace, or the allure of her full lips, or perhaps those mesmerising deep brown eyes that held weariness and exhaustion. Whatever it was, it made him willing to risk everything just for a single glance from her.

  Neveah was immediately swept away by the court, leaving Hadassah alone. Beast men’s eyes clung to her; after her victory, she was prime marriage material, and her backyard was empty; if someone could get into her bed, they would enjoy the glory and all her attention.

  Verena had yet to arrive; neither had the dragon twins, so she could only wait.

  Her eyes looked around until she found Zarek.

  Zarek noticed her approach, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat nervously. They walked towards each other, both hesitant, as if uncertain of what to say. When they finally stopped, facing each other, Zarek looked as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the right words. They stood in awkward silence, neither knowing how to continue. Around them, the music shifted, signalling the start of a dance. Couples began to pair off, moving gracefully across the floor, but neither Hadassah nor Zarek made a move to join in.

  Zarek glanced at the dancers, then back at her, his cheeks reddening. “I, uh, can’t really dance,” he repeated sheepishly.

  “I know. Me neither,” Hadassah replied, her lips twitching into a small smile. They stood side by side, watching the dancers move in elegant twirls, feeling slightly out of place but also somehow content in each other’s company.

  After a few moments, Zarek broke the silence. “I hear about Leo a lot from Kaladin; what was he like?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

  Hadassah’s smile faltered, and she turned her gaze away from the dance floor. She had been too preoccupied to think much of her father; she preferred not to; she was afraid the wound in her heart would reopen. Even now, she did not wonder how Kaladin knew his name, after all, he seemed to know everything, they might have met in the past before he was stuck with her in Valdemar.

  “My father was quite strict; he didn’t like me finding artefacts,” she said, letting the first memory that came to mind spill out. “He was always carrying this jade flute around. I assumed it was his most prized possession.” She glanced down at her gloved hands, the skin underneath feeling tight from the burns that scarred it. If her father had known she’d burnt herself, he would have been furious. “He thought of me as very precious and treated me like his own daughter.”

  “Surprisingly, he sounds like a good man.”

  “How is that a surprise?”

  “Well, considering he was close to Kaladin, I’d assume he was quite devious.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

  Hadassah’s mind drifted to the small building, the wisps, the sound of raindrops, and the jade flute. It was a life she could never return to—a concept still hard to fully accept. She remembered his stern face, scolding her fiercely for not memorising the Emerian lineage, for mispronouncing things, and for sneaking out with the wisps. ‘Why are all my memories of him scolding me?’ she mused silently. If he could age normally, she suspected his hair would have turned grey and started falling out from the stress she caused him.

  Zarek watched her smile absently at the dancers, and he wondered if perhaps she wanted to join them. Dancing was something he’d never considered learning, not until now. If he knew how, he could hold her in his arms and lead.

  He glanced down at her hand, which hung by her side. He wanted to take it. His heart beat heightened as he reached out, wanting to feel the texture of her gloves—and eventually, her skin.

  Then, the music stopped, and he withdrew his hand.

  The guests turned their attention to the grand entrance, where two figures stood; they bowed at the knee as they walked in. Drucilla entered alongside Zeus, who, despite the fan covering his lips, could not hide his deep purple eyes. He wore red and gold, his robes open, revealing a chiselled chest and his gourd around his waist. He was much taller than his sister, who was one of the smallest women in the room.

  Behind them came Kaladin, dressed in a full set of armour as a general should; next to him was Lord Vortigern, who walked with a triumphant step, his nose turned up and his eyes looking down in glee. His mood was beautiful; nothing could disrupt it.

  The instrumentalists began again, and the guests peeled their eyes away from the group who had just entered and continued in their night of dancing and drinking.

  Verena stood silently by her father’s side as he received guests, speaking passively and appearing to enjoy himself. Meanwhile, Drucilla lounged at the end of the hall on a throne of cushions, a goblet in her hand. When a male servant approached with a jar of shimmering, golden liquid, she nodded, holding out her cup for him to fill. Ambrosia, the liquid gold reserved for the utmost elite, poured into her goblet, marking her status unmistakably.

  Zeus, on the other hand, had no intention of simply lounging. In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by women vying for his attention. Since his identity had been revealed, he was relentlessly courted by those hoping to add him as an official mate. His status barred him from serving as a consort, leaving women who already had official mates cursing their luck. Fanning himself mildly, he entertained the conversations, his eyes occasionally darting to ‘Verena,’ who merely rolled her eyes at his attempts to draw her interest, knowing he was waiting for her to ask him for a dance—a request she had no intention of making.

  Kaladin exchanged a few words with Lord Vortigern before accepting a dance with a lovely young lady adorned with soft fox ears. After one full dance cycle, he switched partners, taking Neveah’s hand for another. Hadassah observed the events unfolding around her, politely declining dance invitations and evading the intense stares of the court’s men.

  Eventually, Verena joined Hadassah and Zarek, handing Hadassah a goblet. “Do they think that if they stare hard enough, you’ll accept an invitation to dance?” Verena asked, amused. It was her first time attending a banquet, as she’d previously been barred from such festivities.

  “It’s exhausting,” Hadassah admitted, her eyes lingered on Kaladin dancing; she did not know why it felt odd watching him, as if she were suffocating. She had not seen him in three months, and he did not care to congratulate her and had danced with other women. She did not know why she expected him to come to her first, but it was not in her place to question; his decisions were his to make.

  Zarek chuckled, teasing, “Do you not find any of them attractive? At your age, you should at least have one consort, yet you have none.”

  Hadassah merely smiled, her gaze distant. “To take a consort, I’d need to feed, clothe, and pamper them. When I have some more time, I’ll consider it.” She took a sip of nectar. While she wasn’t opposed to marriage, she felt no urgency—especially not with the impending expedition. “I can’t imagine leaving a consort at home while I’m on an expedition. If my life ends, they’d be left a widower.”

  “That’s fair. I have no need for a consort yet either; men are distractions.” Verena laughed, her newfound confidence evident. “Just look at the Queen of Debauchery—she met her end because she kept too many men in her backyard.”

  “Not everyone has the money to take care of three thousand men.” Hadassah said wearily.

  Zarek laughed, finding it oddly comforting that Hadassah wasn’t interested in men at the moment. At least he wouldn’t have to share her attention with too many people.

  “How is she? Verena?” Hadassah asked Verena casually.

  Verena’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Shall we have a look?”

  Hadassah hummed, as if contemplating. “Then I guess it’s about time?” Zarek noticed the exchange, curiosity flashing across his face. He wanted to ask about their cryptic conversation, but seeing the malicious gleam in Hadassah’s smile, he held back. She noticed his expression, the look he always wore when he was confused.

  “Want to know?” she asked, amusement in her tone.

  He nodded, and she pressed the goblet’s rim to her lips, her eyes flicking up to meet his through her lashes. “The hairpin’s rune will wear off in about thirty minutes.”

  What?

  He blinked, stunned. Why would she give it a time limit? “But wouldn’t she just heal?”

  “Ah, that’s the thing. She will heal, but that’s all she’ll do. Her face and her hair will forever remain that of Vivian Vortigern.”

  Hadassah waited, watching his face as he pieced it together. When he still said nothing, she elaborated. “What do you think will happen when she regenerates? Do you think she’ll look for a mirror?”

  Realisation dawned on Zarek’s face, and he shook his head slowly. “No…”

  “She’ll come right up here, won’t she? Vivian Vortigern will storm in to kill her sister, ‘Verena’—and no one will question it, because…”

  “Because it is warranted,” Zarek whispered, finishing her thought.

  Hadassah nodded, her smile stretching to an unnatural length. It was warranted indeed. Verena had been cruel and unforgiving to Vivian so publicly; naturally, revenge would be expected. And that was precisely what they were counting on.

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