Page 10 of Courting War
“Yes, of course.” Kellyn smiled through his teeth, with all the arrogance and dominance of a god.
Gallagher never had an ounce of concern for anyone other than herself, and she certainly didn’t care now. She was up to something. Gallagher had unusual, often inappropriate, and sometimes vile tastes and tendencies. She adored tricks and watching things burn . . . sometimes literally. During the Agoge, she nearly killed Cecile and sabotaged her at every turn.
“Your speech is all prepared?” Gallagher asked.
“Yes, of course.” A muscle in Kellyn’s cheek twitched.
“Oh, good, I am glad to hear it. I must confess, I was worried you might soil yourself from all the pressure.” Gallagher smiled like a tiger. “We all know how you get sometimes.” She spat out the last word like hydra acid.
Did Gallagher know about his affliction? Kellyn felt the blood drain from his face, and his heart thudded, but he squared his shoulders in a battle stance.
Never let anyone see your weakness.
There was no way Gallagher could have found out. Kellyn has been so good at hiding it. He learned to pick locks and steal assignments to memorize them so he wouldn’t stumble over the reading in classes. Moreover, he pretended to be an arrogant, dominant asshole to keep most people at bay and away from his secrets. He was excellent at hiding his shame.Gallagher couldn’t know. Emmett didn’t even know.
Kellyn rubbed his left pectoral muscle for comfort, where his three house sigils were etched into his bronze skin with black ink. He was an heir to three important family lines in Theoden and the greater world.
“Gallie, go prance off to somewhere you’re wanted.”Cecile used the nickname, knowing the girl hated it, and shooed her away with a careless gesture.
“I’m a council aid,” Gallagher said, smugness pouring from her pores. “I’m more than wanted here.”
“It’s starting,” Emmett said, stepping between the girls. “Go stand in your proper place, Gallie.”
She glanced one final time at the crowd before rolling her shoulders back and walking to her assigned spot.
Cecile turned back to Kellyn and clutched his hand, squeezing it. “You’re going to do great.”
The three council heads, their aids, Kellyn’s parents, and his two best friends gathered behind him on the balcony. As Kellyn walked up to the newly invented microphone, a tear of sweat rolled down his spine.
It was the moment.
Possibly the most significant moment of his life.
His valet handed him the altered speech with the final name of the champion typed in. Kellyn held it between his fingers momentarily and took a long deep breath. He could do this. He had practiced and studied the words over and over and over again.
He was prepared.
Kellyn started the speech from memory. “People of Theoden, a country devoted to our Goddess of War, I welcome you to the Day of Decision. Every four years, our great councils come together to choose our newest champion and the pride of our country. A champion representing our great courage, strategy, and strength. A champion for us to be proud of. So, I stand before you today to humbly declare the name . . .”
Kellyn unrolled his speech. His eyes scraped across the words, but none of them were familiar. The entire thing was completely and utterly changed from the original. His heart stumbled and dropped to his toes. Somebody switched out the proper speech with a handwritten document in cursive which was utterly impossible for his brain to translate under stress. Cursive was hardest to read because the letters danced and looped. He couldn’t use histypical trick of memorizing the words’ shapes because they were all different.
It was bad.
Kellyn’s heart beat to a rhythm of war.
His chest tightened, and his cravat felt suddenly stifling like it was suffocating him. He stared at the paper, begging it to make sense. But the more he looked, the more desperate the situation became.
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in deeply, but his breath was a fire burning his insides to embers.
“The new champ-cha-champion,” he stuttered.
Kellyn’s eyes scanned the paper again, searching for the name. He didn’t need the rest of the words. All he truly needed was the champion’s name. But the terms blended into a watercolor painting of dread.
His fingers tightened around the snow-white paper, earth sprites dancing around his head, licking at his fear. Cecile’s shadow cat rubbed against his leg, trying to offer aid, but it didn’t help. Kellyn stared out into the crowd, wondering if they had all noticed the sudden pause in his speech.
They must have. How could they not? Everyone saw his stupidity on full display.
Everything stilled, freezing like a gorgon statue. But the birds mocked him overhead, as did the sprites.
