Aldric wore a mask, an intricate creation of dark tal and golden filigree, obscuring his face and adding an air of mystery and dread. His attire was equally imposing: a long, dark coat adorned with shimring blue gems and elaborate designs, giving him a regal yet dangerous appearance.
And then, as if sensing her gaze, Aldric turned in Islinda’s direction. For a mont, the world ceased to exist. It was only the two of them—locked in a silent, electrifying connection that tugged at her very soul. Islinda’s breath caught in her throat as she felt that familiar pull, the sa draw that had haunted her since last night. It was magnetic, irresistible, and all-consuming.
Aldric’s eyes, hidden behind the mask, seed to darken with the sa intensity. Her pulse quickened, her breathing shallow, the unspoken desire swirling between them.
But the mont shattered like fragile glass when a loud horn sounded, signaling the official start of the match. The anticipation in the arena reignited, and the tension that had held everyone captive broke into fervent energy.
Islinda blinked, the world snapping back into focus. Her connection to Aldric, though montarily disrupted, still lingered like an electric current under her skin. She tore her gaze away, knowing that now was not the ti to dwell on her feelings.
The death duel was about to begin.
The crowd’s roar reached a fever pitch as the arena began to transform into the battleground everyone had anticipated. The frost and snow Aldric had summoned monts ago vanished, leaving the wide space clear and prid for combat.
The arena guards busily set up different types of weapons, arranging them in accessible spots for the two combatants. As another set of guards led away Aldric and Valerie’s beasts, Islinda’s attention was captured by an unexpected sight.
Two won stepped into the center of the stage, lifting their arms toward the sky. Almost imdiately, a thin, translucent energy shimred into existence, spreading across the arena like a do.
"Who are they, and what are they doing?" Islinda asked, her curiosity piqued.
As usual, Andre was quick to answer, leaning in slightly as he explained, "They’re witches. They’re casting a protective barrier over the arena to ensure none of the attacks spill into the audience."
"Oh." Islinda nodded thoughtfully, realizing how much sense it made. For a mont, she had wondered how the crowd would be protected from stray magic or an errant weapon strike, but clearly, they had thought of everything.
Andre gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his warm fingers covering her cold ones. "Don’t worry," he said softly, "you’re protected as long as you’re with ."
"Thank you." Islinda smiled, grateful for his presence. Having a friend like Andre at a ti like this was a blessing she hadn’t anticipated.
But just as she settled back into her seat, she felt a distinct gaze on her. It prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Turning slightly, her eyes t Queen Victoria’s.
The Queen wasn’t just looking at her; she was staring directly at her hand, which Andre was still holding.
Islinda’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively pulled her hand away as if it had been burned. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she glanced nervously at the Queen, expecting to see disapproval or perhaps even anger at the possibility of her making advances toward her son.
But to her surprise, Queen Victoria gave her a warm, knowing smile, as if she understood sothing Islinda did not. The smile only made Islinda’s blush deepen. She returned the smile, albeit nervously, and quickly averted her eyes, determined to mind her own business.
Which was worse? she wondered. The Queen being angry, like her co-wives often were, or the Queen smiling at her as if she approved? Islinda shifted in her seat, trying to put distance between herself and Andre, though there wasn’t much space left on the bench.
Andre noticed her subtle movent but said nothing. His lips thinned slightly, his attention focusing back on the arena.
In the center of the arena, the stage was finally set. The guards quickly vacated the space, and an air of tense anticipation fell over the crowd.
Aldric was the first to strip away his coat, letting the heavy material fall to the ground. The move left him bare-chested, revealing a body sculpted by years of combat training. His muscles were defined, his skin pale and gleaming in the fading sunlight. The crowd, especially the females, erupted in frenzied admiration at the sight of him.
So of the won in the crowd were practically swooning, a few even fainting with dramatic flair.
"Get a grip," Islinda thought, rolling her eyes at the theatrics.
But beneath her sarcasm, a pang of jealousy twisted in her chest. That was her Aldric, they were all ogling. He belonged to her!
Valerie, not to be outdone, followed suit. However, his movents were far more graceful, more deliberate as he removed his outer layers.
While his build was leaner and more lithe than Aldric’s, his body was no less impressive. The combination of his confidence and the light sheen of sweat on his golden skin was enough to send the audience into another fit of excitent.
To the females, this was shaping up to be the best day of their lives, with both princes offering such a display.
The energy in the arena shifted as Valerie’s fiery power began to crackle in the air. Waves of heat rolled off him, the temperature rising noticeably. His muscles tensed, the spear in his hand raised high, ready to strike.
Across from him, Aldric raised his double-edged paragon spear, its sharp edges glinting in the light. His magic simred just beneath the surface, waiting for the signal to be unleashed.
The arena fell into a hushed silence as the signal was given. The barrier shimred brighter for a mont as the magic solidified, ensuring that what was about to unfold would not touch the spectators.
And with that, it was ti.
Reviews
All reviews (0)