Darkness Ignite

Chapter 15

Nesrin

My blood rushed angrily.

Why was it that, the moment I was forced into a position I couldn't relinquish, there was more added to the never-ending deception in my life? Forced to participate in the immoral Throne Trials, along with the heavy load of the truth of my father's identity, now I had the enlightenment of Issay's words, or rather, the lack thereof. I was forced to do the will of others with no regards of my own fruition of the matter.

After my encounter with Issay, I was left alone with my wandering thoughts. My body refused to move as I fought to make sense of my old school mate's sudden notice. It wasn't long after Issay left that Celisse found me crumpled on a chair. I was reprimanded for running off and having butchered her "work of art" across my appearance. I was led back to my room and, again, pestered by Celisse. And following that, the king called for the strykes to gather in the throne room.

As I made way for the throne room, I found that I was replaying the same thing in my mind. I was preoccupied with the thought of Issay's departing information. She seemed to know so much more than I in the short amount of time we were separated.

I'd like to add that I never regarded the blond girl as a friend, we both didn't see that in each other. However, she was one of the few, maybe the only one, who didn't shrink back at my presence. I found solace in her indifference towards me.

Oh, but she agitated me.

I knew all too well that Issay purposely guided me through the castle halls until we were left to ourselves. She meant to tell me those brief secrets she told. She left so suddenly that I was irritated she even told me in the first place.

"Move on, the lot of you aren't children." The king's second in command, who was called Comev, was ushering the strykes into the throne room. "The king is impatient. Move!"

I staggered forward as someone behind me shoved. I elbowed the prick and heard a satisfying grunt.

"You're too slow," said a low voice.

"Choke on cow's piss," I hissed.

"You'll be dead before the first trial."

I looked back to take in the sight of my harasser. He was my age with a gaunt face. His shoulders poked out from his suit and his legs didn't fit too well into his trousers. He was lean and tall, with a dark beard beginning to grow.

"Try me." My anger and frustration were fighting beneath the weak hold I shielded against it.

I was already irritated from meeting my old school mate, but this boy was only fueling it. Before he could make a remark, I turned back around.

The crowd of strykes finally managed to fit through the door leading to the throne room. We were a sight to behold, truly, for our attires bore a resemblance to the king's royal colors: black and gold.

Of all the days, Issay decided to reveal herself on the day of the banquet. Oh, but I was much keener to wonder whose hands I'd suffer by, but Issay's words rushed to the forefront of it all.

For one, she knew that the king was my father. The trepidation of what she could mean was slowly dragging me down. Of course, I knew my father would be angry if I "misbehaved," in a sense. It just irked me that she knew enough about it while I was just now understanding it.

"King Corbyn now enters; bow before His Highness, King of Syrone, Conqueror of the Throne Trials, and Crowned in His Name," bellowed Comev. His voice rang through the vast room, hushing the lively crowd to a silence.

All at once, the room stirred as heads slowly bowed to the entrance of the king—my father. Along with them, my face lowered to the ground and my chin tucked into my chest.