THE HEIR'S CURSE

CHAPTER 2

A TEST OF TONGUES

The palace courtyard buzzed with quiet tension. Dozens of young scholars stood beneath the warm sunlight, eyes wide with ambition.

Elira shifted nervously among them, the coarse linen of her borrowed tunic clinging to her skin. She glanced around, noticing the air of silent competition that hung heavy between the murmured conversations.

A high-ranking steward stepped forward, his voice sharp as it cut through the murmur.

“You stand before the gates of opportunity,” he announced. “Only five of you will be chosen to serve as palace translators. You will be tested not only on your knowledge of languages but also on your wit, your discipline, and your discretion.”

Elira swallowed hard. She had prepared for this, but even so, her hands trembled slightly in her sleeves.

The first part of the test was translating a passage written in "High Solencian" ( An ancient formal language used in royal ceremonies and scholarly texts)

Elira’s pen moved swiftly, her mind working through the foreign alphabets and symbols. It was challenging, but not beyond her grasp.

Then came the oral challenge. One by one, the students were called forward to translate sentences spoken in rare dialects by members of the court. When it was Elira’s turn, her heart pounded in her chest. She stepped forward, head slightly bowed to conceal her face.

An old nobleman spoke in an obscure language, his tone flat and difficult to read. Elira’s eyes lit up with recognition, it was a dialect she had studied in secret from old scrolls, Scylvan!

She translated, voice steady, then bowed and stepped back.

Murmurs rippled through the watching crowd. Her answer had been perfect.

Just when she thought it was over, a deep voice echoed through the hall.

“That was impressive. But let’s make things a little more... interesting.”

Heads turned. There he was.

'Prince Kaelen"

He walked in slowly, the crowd parting instinctively for him. He was taller than she had imagined, dressed in dark blue robes embroidered with golden threads. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the competitors until they landed briefly on her. Then, he addressed the room.

“One final task,” he said. “A spoken challenge , in the Old Language.”

Gasps swept through the courtyard. The Old Language was rarely spoken outside royal circles. Most had only seen traces of it in dusty scrolls.

Elira’s pulse spiked. Was she ready for this?

The prince recited a long phrase, his voice deep and clear. One boy stumbled. Another froze completely.

Then it was her turn.

She closed her eyes, searching for the meaning behind the words , not just the sound, but the soul of the sentence. Her lips moved. Her voice, steady and smooth, echoed across the courtyard.

Silence followed.

Prince Kaelen tilted his head, intrigued.

“Who is he?” he asked a guard beside him.

“No records yet, Your Highness. From Veloria.”

"Hm"

Elira bowed and stepped back, her heart still pounding.

"Thanks to the quiet old tutor from her village who believed she could master even forgotten tongues," she thought.

She had done it. But the moment felt heavier than triumph.

Eyes were on her now. Watching.

Studying.

Somehow, the real test had just begun.