Page 19 of The Divine Shallows
Elyria sighed. “Only a few hundred more to go.”
As the afternoon wore on,Elyria and Elowyn continued to greet and welcome the guests of the First Day with pleasantries and salutations until their voices threatened to grow hoarse.
Currently, Elowyn found herself ensnared in an endless conversation with a sorceress from Lochwald, despite her attempts to bring it to a close. The discussion had dragged on for nearly fifteen minutes now.
“Yes, the hunt began at dawn for the feast of the Banquet of the Blessed,” Elowyn confirmed.
The sorceress gasped, “Outstanding! The elk from the Eriden mountains has always been exquisite. With Eriden’s borders being so exclusive as of late, I haven’t tasted game of that quality in years.” A look of fear crossed her face. “Oh moons, elk will be served tonight, won’t it?”
“I assure you that the kingdom of Eriden has prepared a remarkable feast fitting for the First Day,” Elowyn reassured her.
“I would hope so! The returning candidates deserve nothing less than a spectacular feast and more!” The sorceress nodded vigorously in agreement before leaning in and adding with a chuckle, “The elk prepared in the Erimead mountains is not nearly as delectable...”
Elowyn responded with a lighthearted, closed-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was well aware that the elk in question by the sorceress was procured from both the Eriden and Erimead mountains. In fact, the two kingdoms shared a contiguous mountain range, separated only by a channel of water, and the same population of elk inhabited both territories. The sorceress’s claim was simply nonsensical, and the entire interaction felt absurd.
As Elowyn contemplated feigning lightheadedness to escape the conversation, a moongate began to materialize near the entrance of the royal gardens. With a wave of relief, she bid the Lochwald sorceress farewell and made her way towards the glittering feylight archway, her steps swift as she tried to evade becoming entangled in another mundane exchange. Elyria followed closely behind, eager to escape her own encounters with the guests.
Stopping before the moongate, the sisters felt a surge of magic swirl from the entrance. Two male figures emerged from the portal, stepping into view. The first warlock had a head of rich mahogany waves, warm olive-toned skin, and sandstone-colored freckles lightly dusting the bridge of his nose. His eyes gleamed with a piercing sea-green hue.
The second figure was immediately recognized by the two sisters as the second Bloodweaver prince. Like the king and queen of the Iron Hollows, the prince possessed fair skin and midnight hair. He wore a goldenaureumembroidered with basilisk scales, draping down one shoulder, and falling just below his waist. As the Bloodweaver prince stepped into the royal gardens, his peculiar, maroon-colored eyes, almost serpentine-like, roamed over the two princesses.
Elyria and Elowyn approached the two warlocks and welcomed their arrival.
The mahogany-haired warlock introduced himself as Sylas Fenhart, the divine candidate for House Bloodweaver. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Princess Elyria. I’ve been curious to meet the Goddess-chosen sorceress for House Fangwright,” he said courteously.
Elyria smiled politely and replied, “Likewise. I wish you luck on the Seventh Day.”
“Your good fortune is appreciated, Princess Elyria,” Sylas responded, his brow furrowing slightly as if contemplating something. His tone turned curious as he continued, “I’ve yet to see you at the Spires. In fact, I haven’t seen you at training once these past seven years… Is there a reason for that?”
The Seven Spires stood as a prominent structure, consisting of seven towers built by the original founders of Neramyr. These towers, joined into one large edifice, served as the primary training grounds for magical fey of the seven realms. Each tower, or spire, was dedicated to one of the seven classes of magic, and only the most gifted warlocks and sorceresses were invited to train there. Among these gifted few were the divine candidates selected to participate in the Trial of Caena.
“No reason of importance. I simply felt better suited to train outside of the Seven Spires,” Elyria disclosed, though the truth was her father, the king of Eriden, had forbidden her from training there altogether.
“Oh, I see.” Sylas’ voice faltered momentarily before quickly regaining composure. “I have no doubt that your abilities are exceptional. I look forward to completing these next seven years with you.”
A subtle shift in the Bloodweaver prince’s aura prompted the two princesses to pay closer attention to him.
“Moons, I apologize,” Sylas cleared his throat. “I got carried away in conversation. I’d like to introduce you both to Theo. Erm, Prince Theoden Bloodweaver of the Iron Hollows.”
Both Elyria and Elowyn offered respectful smiles to the prince, though they couldn’t ignore the air of arrogance that surrounded him—typical of Bloodweaver royalty. The longstanding rivalry between the Fangwrights and Bloodweavers, the two strongest Houses in Neramyr, was well-known, spanning generations.
Theo spoke impassively, “What a peculiar choice to train outside of the Seven Spires. I haven’t heard of a Goddess-chosen candidate declining the teachings there until your decision to abstain from it seven years ago.” He raised a single brow. “This divine season has certainly beenunique.”
Elyria met Theo’s gaze with an equally impassive expression, making it clear she wouldn’t be provoked by his insinuations. He merely smiled back at her before turning to Elowyn.
“Princess Elowyn, I hope you’ll prove to be an earnest competitor for next season’s Trial,” Theo asserted. “The might of House Fangwright has always been admirable; it’s rivaled House Bloodweaver since the dawn of the New Age. Though events as of late have proven that history can be capricious.”
Sylas’ discomfort was evident, and the Fangwright princesses narrowed their eyes at Theo’s overt comment.
“Come, Sylas, let us begin the festivities of the First Day,” Theo suggested, casting a low whistle as he surveyed the castle. “The walls of Eriden are built so lofty one would suspect that the Fanged King is hiding something.” His gaze seemed to hint towards Elyria as he walked towards the castle.
Sylas hurriedly bid farewell to the two princesses and chased after the Bloodweaver prince until he vanished from the gardens and into the castle gates.
Elyria appeared indifferent, though her clenched jaw betrayed her true feelings. Elowyn felt a surge of irritation at the antagonistic remarks directed at her sister by the Bloodweaver prince. It was one thing for such crude comments to be whispered within the circles of your own court, but to be uttered on the soil of Eriden was a brazen act of disrespect.
“It’s fine, Elowyn,” Elyria reassured her, sensing her sister’s aggravated demeanor. “The Bloodweavers have always lacked decorum. We’ve known this.”
Elowyn simply nodded in response, trying to pacify her sister. But inwardly, she vowed that the next time she encountered the Bloodweaver prince, she’d punch him in the face.
