Ruins And Royalty

A Helping Hand to the Council - Chp 4 Part 2

Our time in the arena was drawing to a close. Most royals had already chosen their weapons, while a few lingered, indecisive. As critical as armaments might be in the Game of the Gods, this selection wasn’t mandatory. Those who trusted their own swords, spears, or daggers were free to rely on them.

The weapons on display had been forged in the Kingdom of Freyah, carried here not only for show but also for purchase by anyone bold enough to wield them. My eyes lingered on the chakrams, but the enchantments left me uneasy. Magic wasn’t rare in Pandora, it was woven into life itself, sanctioned and overseen by the Council. Many claimed the Gods themselves had seeded it into the world, both as a blessing and a reminder of their omnipresence.

Still, I had never used it. Never seen it firsthand. In a city alive with whispers of spells and arcane rites, most of what I’d encountered was abstract, distant. Magic was a tool of royalty and high-ranking nobles... a privilege, not a given. Handling it was as foreign to me as walking through clouds.

“How about a crossbow?” A voice broke through my thoughts.

“You’re aim is terrible,” I replied, glancing at my eldest sister, her fingers twisting a necklace nervously.

“That’s true,” she admitted with a sigh, eyes tracing the rim of the arena. I noticed she had been fiddling with it the moment she joined me, an unconscious comfort.

“Did anything catch your eye?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Maybe,” I muttered, keeping my gaze on the field where competitors tested weapons and armor, swinging swords, drawing bows, or hefting axes with varying degrees of skill.

“It’s always a mystery with you,” she said, stretching lazily, leaning back against the bench. I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Long night with your inamorata, then?” I teased lightly, expecting a playful retort.

“I haven’t seen her since the gathering three days ago,” she scoffed, looking away. Her voice carried both annoyance and longing, a subtle contrast that didn’t escape me.

I let her words hang, observing the way the shadows shifted across the arena. Even amid chaos, some things, like my sister’s quiet heart, remained painfully visible.

“Sure, and I’m sure she didn’t gift you that necklace either,” I teased, leaning back slightly. “You don’t usually bother with jewelry, so that one must be… special.”

Saurora didn’t hesitate. “Alright, we spent the night together.”

I let a small smirk tug at my lips. “Don’t know why you even bother denying it around me,” I added, my tone dropping a notch, more serious now. Saurora was never secretive like I was. What you saw was what you got. She wore her heart openly, honesty etched across her expression. Still, I understood why she’d be protective about her connection to the Princess of Freyah.

“The walls are always listening, brother,” she said softly, her expression sharpening with concern.

I nodded, letting her words sink in. It was true; trust was a luxury no one could afford. In this world, information was currency, survival hinged on knowing when to speak and when to stay silent. Scandals were entertainment, power, and danger rolled into one, and royalty or peasant, no one escaped the scrutiny of sharp eyes and sharper ears.

“Wicked eyes are always watching,” I muttered, eyes narrowing as I scanned the room.

Saurora’s tone lightened suddenly, and she nodded toward the archery station. “Speaking of eyes… looks like someone’s attracted a pair.”

I followed her gesture, and my gaze landed on him. The moment he caught sight of me, his head jerked away, pretending he hadn’t been looking. A small grin tugged at my lips.

“Err… he was just looking…” Saurora stammered, clearly uncertain of my intentions.

“I’m just going to find out why. That’s all,” I said curtly, already stepping forward. Saurora stayed behind, watching me, and for once she hadn’t followed.

He had his back to me, oblivious. I slowed my pace, bending slightly, letting my mouth drift close to his ear.

“Why are you staring?” I whispered, letting the words carry just enough weight.

The blonde stiffened, dropping whatever he had in his hands as he spun to face me, eyes wide in surprise. A slow, victorious grin spread across my face, enjoying the moment, the shock, the abrupt tension, the thrill of being the one who had caught him unawares.

“Aaron. I—I…” His voice faltered, caught somewhere between surprise and uncertainty. I let a small smirk linger. “I’m only teasing.” I crouched slightly to pick up what he had dropped, a finely crafted arrowhead.

“Archery?” I asked, holding it out to him.

“I’m not much of a close-combat fighter,” he said easily, taking the arrowhead from me.

“I’ve tried archery before,” I admitted, letting my gaze wander across the unfamiliar weapons scattered around, “but it didn’t exactly work out.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to hang in the air for just a beat longer than necessary. “I can imagine.”

I knew my way around almost every weapon imaginable, but the bow and arrow had always been foreign to me. Lessons started at as young as ten, but I had abandoned them after a while, preferring the immediacy of swords and blades. My parents had been… displeased, to say the least. But I had followed my own instincts.

“Have you picked out a bow yet?” I asked, curiosity creeping into my tone as I studied the arrowhead in his hand.

“No need,” he said, placing it back on the table. “I’ve already got one.”

“Not impressed by the Freyah blacksmiths?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“On the contrary,” Zander replied, a small pride in his voice. “I received an enchanted bow on my fifteenth birthday, from the King and Queen themselves.”

I tilted my head, processing the revelation. Not what I had expected. “I see.”

“You don’t look impressed,” he observed, trying to read my expression.

“It’s not that,” I replied, glancing away, my fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “I just… don’t trust magic.”

He blinked, slightly caught off guard, unsure how to respond.

“It’s not that I’m against it,” I added, forcing a shrug to ease the tension. “It’s just… not for me.”

“You don’t really need it anyway,” he said suddenly, voice softer now, warmer, almost intimate. His eyes met mine with a calm certainty that made my chest tighten slightly. “You’re strong enough on your own.”

For a heartbeat, I allowed myself to consider it, the words settling in, heavier than any blade I’d ever wielded.

“You’ve never seen me fight.” I stated, glad the conversation had taken a lighter turn.

“Then you’ll have to show me,” he replied, voice calm, but carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I’d be more than happy to spar with you sometime,” I offered, letting a trace of hope slip into my tone.

“I’d rather have you teach me,” he said instead, eyes lingering on me, genuinely intrigued.

“Even better,” I admitted, biting my lower lip, “but I must warn you… I’m quite rough.”

For a brief moment, his face flushed, the faintest trace of red rising to his cheeks. I stepped closer instinctively, but he took a small step back, and a pang of worry flickered through me.

“Sorry- did I say something wrong?” I asked softly, studying him, trying to read the sudden tension.

“N-no…” He finally murmured, averting his gaze. “I just… remembered I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

“Oh,” I said, tilting my head, attempting to decipher whether it was an excuse or a reaction to me.

“I’ll see you some other time,” he added quickly, cutting the moment short and leaving the arena before I could respond. I exhaled, frustrated and confused, unsure if I had overstepped or if he truly had somewhere to be.

“I did not take you for an archer,” a voice said behind me. I turned, surprised to find Prince Torin standing there, leaning casually against the edge of the arena.

“I’m not,” I said, raising an eyebrow. Seeing him now stirred an odd mixture of nostalgia. We had once been close, especially after the Windane family arrived in Emperos, and I’d expected our paths to cross more. Instead, I found myself spending more time around his younger brother.

“I came over to speak with Zander,” I explained, shrugging lightly.

“I was wondering if it was my brother I saw storming off,” Torin said casually, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Did you argue?”

“He said he had to be somewhere,” I replied, shrugging again, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Well, that’s explainable,” he said, waving a hand toward the exit. “Shall we leave the arena as well?”

“Is he usually so busy?” I asked quietly, careful to keep curiosity from overtaking my tone. Torin chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes, but said nothing, letting the silence linger as we walked side by side out of the arena.

“Oh yes. He’s quite favored by the Council for his reading and writing skills,” Torin began casually, as if recounting a mundane fact. I listened, intrigued despite his detached tone. “They often request his assistance, mostly small errands, translation work, even writing letters for the headmaster when the man is too lazy to do it himself. That, and a handful of other boring tasks.”

Torin spoke as if he were describing someone else’s life entirely, his words clipped and unenthusiastic. It struck me as odd, almost as if he couldn’t wait to finish the topic. And yet, I realized with some quiet amusement that I might have a closer bond with my own siblings than Torin did with his, at least with Prince Zander.

“Convenient for the Council,” I said bluntly, keeping my gaze fixed on the dirt path ahead.

“Indeed,” he sighed, a subtle shrug betraying his indifference.

“Izara sends her regards. She requested that you show her more of Emperos’ gardens,” Torin suddenly added, shifting the conversation as easily as one might shift a chess piece.

I frowned, my attention lingering on the uneven path beneath our feet.

“I’m sure one of the maidens can guide her,” I replied curtly. “They probably know more about flowers and such than I do.” The words were meant to be final, a polite deflection, yet I couldn’t quite shake the faint edge of curiosity that lingered about Izara.