Page 33 of Under Restless Skies

Someone claps in the auditorium, and soon a round of applause fills the benches and the balcony.

“No war, then,” Celine whispers, relief clear in her countenance.

“Wait, wait,” the king says. “There’s more. Another candidate. Tradition dictates that only legitimate children should be heirs, and yet, I feel that it’s an unfair rule. The future of Dracolius is more important than some outdated tradition. For this reason, let me present the other candidate for the throne: my eldest child. And if he’s being recognized as a prince, it’s because he’s proven himself to deserve the title.”

A horrible presentiment comes to me, and my body feels cold. No, it can’t be.

Meanwhile, Princess Ledeia trembles for a second, soon resuming her confident expression.

The king points to the door. “Let me introduce my son, Alayel Stormchaser.”

I wish I was imagining things, but I’m not.

My legs wobble as I watch my former traveling companion come out of a side door, dressed in a fine black suit, wearing a gold circlet on his head. It makes no sense, and yet, the timing fits. Everything fits.

The worst is that he manages to look even more dashing than before, and my heart cracks with anger.

He bows before the king, under Princess Ledeia’s murderous glare. “Your Majesty’s too kind.”

His humbleness sounds so fake, so rehearsed, compared to his cocky demeanor when he told me he would soon have power.

So this is what he wanted. This is what he meant. And now he’s on the dais, bathing in glory, while I’m here. Well played, Alayel, very well played.

The king takes his arm and raises it. “You may know him as a new instructor, taking classes with the recruits. But he’s your prince. He might be your king one day, and you shall respect him as such.”

I think I’m going to puke.

7

My body’s trembling. Rage, shame for being so gullible, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. All I know is that the thunderous applause is poking my head from the inside.

“Clap, Mayara,” Celine whispers.

I blink, waking from my temporary daze, and force my hands to slap each other. I do need some slaps, so this is a great opportunity. Below me, on the dais, Alayel smiles and bows to the audience, pretending to be touched and humbled, then presses a hand to his chest.

“I’ll do everything in my power to strengthen and protect Dracolius. To me, this recognition means much more than a noble title. It means a family. A father. Two sisters.” He gestures toward the princesses sitting behind him. “I’ll make sure to support and honor them.”

Cassiana stares at him with curiosity, while Ledeia has her head tilted, a pleasant smile on her face, as if the news was delightful. Considering the evil glare she was giving Alayel only a few seconds ago, I’m assuming this is a schooled, practiced expression.

“It makes sense,” Celine mutters beside me.

“What?”

“He’s in my year, but he’s older than most recruits. And he was on something called instructor track. They claimed that he brought special skills and knowledge from the Sorensen Kingdom.”

“So he was never a normal recruit.”

“Far from that.” She lets out a small laugh.

“What’s he like?”

She pauses, then shrugs. “I don’t know him well. Standoffish, I’d say.” Celine then grunts. “Ew. She’s going to be insufferable.”

“Who?”

“Silvia. She’s also a second year recruit. His lover.”

“Oh.”