The atmosphere was tense as both knights stood a distance apart, mounted firmly upon their steeds, the weight of silence pressing on the crowd.
Each held his sword, the steel of the sword gleaming beneath the reflection of the sun.
All eyes were fixed upon the combatants, waiting for the signal that would unleash the duel. Finally a loud horn pierced the air.
The swords collided, the first strike shuddering through the arena like thunder. The knights pressed forward on their horses, and the crowd erupted in cheers, their voices swelling into a roar that shook the air.
Micah seemed restless, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, though she tried to hide the tremor in her fingers. So many thoughts tumbled through her mind.
"What would people whisper if her chosen knight faltered?
What shame would wash over her if he fell in the dirt before all gathered eyes?
Already, she could sense the weight of noble gazes upon her, measuring her confidence, her choice, her very heart.
She pressed her lips together, forcing a calm mask, but beneath her composed facial expression, her chest tightened, every heartbeat thudding like a drum of war.
Upon the raised pavilion, the other queens leaned forward, their jeweled crowns catching the sunlight. Their eyes gleamed with curiosity, each gaze fixed unblinking on the knights having a duel in the middle of the open arena.
Both knights were doing exceedingly well, their movements sharp and measured, each dodge as swift as each strike.
Dust rose in the air around the knights as they fought with intense combat.
The cheers that had once rattled the arena walls slowly dwindled, voices faltering into uneasy silence.
No longer did the crowd clap or shout names; no longer did they dare take sides.
Every spectator leaned forward now, breath held, for the outcome became uncertain.
Neither knight yielded ground; neither faltered. The silence that settled was heavy, along with the question hanging over every heart.
Who would triumph?
Micah, who had given her favor, suddenly lifted her cup of wine; it trembled faintly in her grasp as she gulped down the wine in a single desperate swallow.
The taste was sharp and burning, but it did little to soothe the tightness coiling in her chest. Her eyes flicked back to the arena, to the clash of blades, yet her thoughts spun only on the question.
What if… what if he fails?
"Another cup."
she murmured after emptying the wine down her throat. Her voice was quick and uneven as she stretched the empty goblet toward the maid at her side.
The servant bowed low, grabbing a half-filled jug of wine from the table; she carefully poured some wine into the empty cup, filling it to the brim.
Micah brought the cup of wine to her lips at once. She sipped from it before languidly fixing her gaze on the knights mercilessly trying to eliminate each other.
The knights continued fighting endlessly, their swords crashing with a fury that rattled the very air.
Each charge was met with equal force.
The crowd, hushed and breathless, sat caught between awe and dread, for the longer the fight endured, the more impossible it became to tell who would rise and who would fall.
Suddenly one of the knights fell from his horse; it was Sir Criston. He groaned in pain as the other knight lurched at him with his sword before plunging it into his stomach.
The sword cuts deep into Sir Criston's stomach, and as the other knight drew out his sword, the steel was smeared with blood, dripping on the soil.
The crowd went wild with cheers.
Micah's face fell; she watched Sir Criston groan in pain in a pool of his own blood. She turned to look at Amilek, as if to say it was his fault; he told her to give the knight her favor.
However, Amilek had a nonchalant countenance; his green emerald eyes were mundanely fixed on the knight, who was now receiving praises from the crowd.
Racheal rose to her feet, clapping her hands elegantly, a proud smile gleaming on her face.
"Bravo!
She said, and the other knight bowed in courtesy from where he stood at the arena to acknowledge her. The knight then spreads his hand open, nodding his head to the loud cheers coming from the crowd.
A sly grin tugged at his lips as he removed his helmet, then waved at the crowd.
As Racheal kept clapping, her gaze flashed at something, and her smile instantly faltered.
Sir Criston, who was on the ground a few moments ago, was no longer there. He was now seen lurching towards the other knight from behind.The crowd went wild, hailing and screaming their lungs out.
The other knight thought they were praising him. But soon he felt a sharp sting on his head; he was barely able to process the pain before crumbling down to his feet, lifeless.
Sir Criston plunged his sword into the other knight's neck, snapping his head from his body. The knight now lay on the ground headless, his blood oozing out profusely.
Micah gasped in astonishment.
"Excellent!
She shrilled, then began to clap her hands before slowly rising to her feet.
Racheal was taken aback by the turn of events. She settled back on her chair, trying to keep her facial countenance firm, but the attempt was useless.
One could clearly see she was baffled and embarrassed. Jazell smirked as she crossed her legs, adjusting on the chair she was seated on.
Still on his knees, Sir Criston clenched his stomach; the wound was deep.
With a slow, labored motion, he unfastened his helmet, the metal clattering faintly as he pulled it free. His head tilted back, strands of damp hair sticking to his sweaty face.
He raised his gaze upward, squinting against the blazing sun that bore down mercilessly from above. For a moment, the light blinded him, but he shut his eyes closed, muttering some thankful words to the gods.
Sweat trickled down his face, stinging the cut along his cheek. His chest rose and fell with sharp, ragged breaths.
Then…faint at first, but growing…he heard them. The crowd. Their voices swelled, a wave that washed over him:
"Sir Criston, Sir Criston!
The chant grew thunderous, drowning the ringing in his ears. His name rolled like thunder through the arena, the sound of a thousand voices lifting him when his strength was nearly gone.
A weary smile appeared on his lips.
He staggered, hand pressed desperately against his stomach where the steel had cut deep. Blood seeped through his fingers in a dark stream, staining the earth beneath him.
His legs trembled as he fought to rise.
With a ragged breath, he straightened, then lifted his other hand toward the crowd.
He slowly darted his eyes towards Micah's direction; his smile widened even more. Micah returned the smile, unknowing to her that Racheal's gaze was fixed on her.
Sir Criston felt his body trembling, falling to his knees and groaning in pain.
"For goodness sake, will someone get him treated!
Ragaleon roared from where he was seated.
The knight had emerged victorious, but ignorance could lead to his death if it wasn't attended to urgently.
"I told you he would win.
Amilek whispered calmly from where he was seated behind Micah.
She heard him clearly but didn't say a word.
Jazell sighed as she rose to her feet; she had had enough of all this boring entertainment. The real fun was about to begin; she began to make her way towards Racheal.
Racheal was still recovering from the shock of the fight that had just happened in the arena, but when her eyes inadvertently darted to where Jazell was, she panicked a little.
She saw that Jazell was making her way in her direction and smelled trouble.
Racheal was in no need to entertain Jazell's little games. She turned to Ragaleon, who was seated next to her, then tapped him lightly before whispering words in his ears.
Before Jazell could get to where Racheal was standing, she saw that Racheal was already taking her leave. Her face darkened, and she went after Racheal, following her every turn until they got to where the carriages were.
"Rachael!
Jazell called out to her when she saw that Racheal was about to enter one of the carriages. Apparently the sun was too high for her to parade back to the palace on the horse she came with.
Racheal turned, her brows creased as she saw Jazell's stormy blue eyes peering at her with profound hatred.
"Where do you think you are going?"
Jazell questioned, crossing her hand on her chest. Rachael raised her brows before taking a few steps away from the royal carriage.
"I need some rest; I am heavily pregnant and…
"Oh please!
Jazell scoffed.
"You can do better than that. Why not say you were about to faint? You definitely need help learning how to make better excuses.
"This is about the fact that I challenged you, right? You know too well I would have won, and now you cower away with the pretense of needing some rest because you are pregnant?"
Her tone was laced with sarcasm.
At this point Racheal didn't care what Jazell thought of her.
"You can say whatever you want to Jazell," her voice became low, barely a whisper.
"Your words have no hold on me." She said before turning to the rider on the horse attached to the carriage.
"To the castle!
She said before finally climbing into the royal carriage.
Her hand slowly balled into a fist as Jazell watched the carriage fade out of sight. She swallowed hard, trying to stomach all the anger she was feeling.
After a few minutes of standing there all alone, just hearing the birds in the forest tweet and chirp. She turned around to leave, the hem of her gown brushing against the fallen dry leaves on the ground.
But she halted in her step when her gaze landed on a dark creature perched on one of the branches of a tree. Round red eyes, sharp claws digging into the branch—it was an owl.
The same owl that had hypnotized Amilek
some nights ago
Jazell retracted her gaze; obviously an owl was rare to see in the daytime, but she didn't think much about it.She made her way back to the arena where the games were taking place, then took her seat heavily.
The owl flapped its wings in the air; it circled around the arena up in the sky before landing in a nearby tree just opposite the canopy where the royal family was seated.
Amilek felt his blood run cold, strange chills hovering in the atmosphere. He raised his gaze from the fight happening between two knights in the arena. His eyes roamed around in search of something… and he found it.
The owl, and their eyes locked. Amilek suddenly went mute. Unable to say a word, he flashed his gaze at the chair his mother was seated on just a moment ago; she wasn't there.
He hadn't taken notice when Racheal took her leave. Now slowly tracing his gaze back to where the owl was, he also realized,
The owl was gone.