"Welcome royals of Carbouran," Thirteen said, her voice carrying over the crowd. "We thank the gracious hosts of Forsyth for kicking off the trials with a grand celebration, as usual."
Cora watched as Thirteen spoke, her mother at her side. She hadn't left Cora alone for even a moment since her arrival — fussing over her dress, the size of her quarters, and the behavior of the staff.
Not that Cora ever found her mother a comforting presence, but for some reason, this particular visit, though short-lived, had quickly become taxing.
Thirteen continued. "As many of you may know, the Prince Candidates are usually announced on the first day of the trials," she paused, her words hanging in the air, "but we've decided to do things a little differently this time."
Cora straightened.
Whispers traveled through the crowd, the urgency in their hushed voices were like tinder — setting the crowd further ablaze. She did not have a good feeling about this.
"We'd like to welcome each of the prince candidates to the stage," Thirteen cleared her throat, "starting with Prince Elio Bronson of Inaha."
Cora watched as the crowd parted, his own face just as confused as each member amongst the crowd.
Thirteen continued calling Prince Candidates
Then, she reached Garyn.
Cora's jaw set. Her mother had, very coldly, informed her of her father's choice of prince candidate. But the warning did nothing to extinguish the wretched hate that tore at every fiber of her being as she watched him ascend those stairs.
"Prince Hayden Voghderys of Garyn," Thirteen called and the crowd parted just the same.
Cora bit her tongue but she could not hide the sneer that worked its way to her face. Her nostrils flared, her skin burning as he found his place among the prince candidates on the Royal perch.
To put it simply, Cora hated him
Hayden was six years her elder cousin, several times removed. They were so distantly related, she wasn't sure there was any true blood relation. But while she could count on one hand the number of times in her life that she'd met him, the vitriol that boiled in her core at the sight of him was very real.
Heat flared inside Cora, her magic pumping savagely through her veins. Her eyes were wide and feral as she pinned him with her stare. Her breath came in raggedly as memories crashed against one another through her mind. The details were torn and crumbled like old paper, but the shape of her feelings were clear as day.
The way the foliage whipped against her skin.
The frigid air that squeezed her lungs.
And his eyes — malevolent and wild.
In that moment, like the villain he was, Hayden found her instantly among the crowd.
His eyes met hers, and a slow, deliberate smirk curled the right corner of his lip.
Her body shuddered at the sight of his utterly shameless expression, her vision completely zeroing in on him. She hadn't seen him since the incident all those years ago, but the rage that consumed her that night, she held onto like a willful brand on her heart.
Cora swallowed and her vision began to waver.
She could not control the heat.
"Cora," her mother scolded, gripping her elbow, "contain yourself. That is not appropriate."
Oh, right, Cora thought.
Her mother stood beside her.
Cora took several deep breaths, realizing there were others around her. She would have trouble containing this pressure, but for now, she could dull this feeling.
She forced herself to look away, lest she drag him off the stage herself.
"Prince Darrin Navarra of Forsyth," Thirteen called.
Cora didn't even bother to look up from the space on the floor that she'd deemed worthy of holding her focus. She kept her fists clenched tight at her sides, allowing the floor to steady her but she could see him ascend the stairs from her peripheral vision.
"Prince Ariel Kingsley of Avelle," Thirteen said.
Then, there was a pause — silence.
It was like the entire crowd was confused.
Cora remained still, refusing to look up out of spite.
Then, a slight gasp broke the silence among the crowd, only audible due to the insufferable silence.
The crowd shifted their attention to a corner of the room, peaking over one another as a wave of whispers began to travel.
"No…"
"The Princess of Sapphire...?"
"They are childhood friends…"
Cora furrowed her brow, blinking.
Maren.
Like moth to flame, Cora's head snapped up, following the piercing gaze of the crowd. She instantly honed in on the top Maren's blonde head, stuffed in a corner of the room but could not see what the whispers were about.
She weaved through the crowd slightly, pulling away from her mother's grip on her elbow. And that's when her eyes found what all the fuss was about.
Maren in a corner of the room, with her fingers interlocked with Prince Ariel.
Cora had heard the rumors.
Ariel had been within her sights since they were children.
She understood that all there was between them was friendship.
And yet, a horrible sensation, like sticky green tar, still boiled within her.
She wasn't sure if this was a residual feeling that lingered from the hate she felt for Hayden or the pressure from being suffocated by her mother's presence.
Regardless of its reason, Cora began to feel the steam build within her once more — the nagging, incessant pressure.
Prince Ariel looked around with a confused expression, then turned back to Maren, his gaze falling on their interlocked hands.
He gasped and dropped her hand. He then muttered something to her and escaped to the stage.
Like the rest of the crowd, Cora watched in silence as he left her side, walked through the makeshift catwalk of crowded whispers and blazing stares, and found his place among the men.
Thirteen stared him down, and though Cora couldn't see her expression, she knew the poison aimed for him behind that mask.
Ariel was a good person — Cora knew that.
And yet, he still did not think of the consequences this could have on them all.
Or, Cora thought, narrowing her eyes, perhaps he did. Maybe this rabbit of a boy is more cunning than he looks.
Thirteen cleared her throat loudly.
"Before we announce the final candidate," Thirteen began.
Cora clenched her fists at her sides.
The crowd has quieted but she could still hear their cruel, amused whispers and their pointed glances.
"…we wanted to explain why we chose this particular candidate."
Cora was hardly listening. The more agitated she became, the more the heat grew within her, emanating from her body even hotter.
She could not let this be.
She could not let Maren stand there alone, singled out amongst a sea of narcissists that judged her when many of their own sins far outweighed that of holding hands with her childhood friend, regardless of sex or gender.
"The statutes of the Starlight Trials, written nearly seven hundred years ago, declare that any who bear the blood of one of the original nine royal bloodlines of Carbouran may be named as a Prince Candidate."
Cora advanced toward Maren, forcing the crowd to part around her.
"Our chosen candidate is strong, cunning, and honored among the soldiers of the Empire."
She had pretended that she didn't notice Maren's efforts to gain her trust. Cora had spent her time ruminating on what was happening between them. So much so, she was neglecting the person in front of her who had made so many attempts to bridge the gap between them.
"This candidate has proven their worth through tireless service to the Star Court — leading a specialized task force within our Knights and demonstrating exceptional excellence in their studies at the Academy."
But Cora knew that she could no longer ignore Maren's gestures.
Cora had to make her own stance — give Maren a reason to trust her.
She hadn't known how or what would be best. Not until she saw Maren's hand in Ariel.
Not until she felt her stomach turn at the sight of its
"This candidate came before the Star Court with a proposition worthy of the ages — one whose challenge to tradition mirrors that of the Empire's twice-born Starblessed vessels."
Cora locked eyes with Maren only a few feet in front of her now.
She extended her arm, reaching for her.
Maren's eyes widened and she swallowed hard.
Cora stood before Maren now, gazing down at her. Heat pulsed through her chest with every heartbeat, tangled with magic and emotions she didn't know how name.
As she took Maren's hands in hers, one truth became clear.
She did not hate this feeling.
It was uncomfortable.
Painful, even.
But it was warm and wildly exciting.
Then, Thirteen's voice cut through the crowd as she finished her speech.
"Prince Candidate Lexington Raine of Toberville, please join the others on the stage."