Era of the Moon, page 4
With a swagger befitting a king, Sebastian began his descent – eyeing Cerilla and Callahan with particular interest. Sizing up his competition. Though the Sun Dominion possessed great power, they hadn’t won a Trial in over a century – and one could see from the fire burning behind his golden eyes that he was desperate to remedy that.
The crowd parted around him, stepping back in awe and fear. The Sun Dominion royals were known for their tempers, one that could come with a fire show tantrum when provoked. And no one wanted to provoke him.
With graceful steps he made his way toward Cerilla and Callahan, prowling around them in an appraising circle before stopping with a smirk playing on his lips.
Sebastian arched a single eyebrow. “Prince Callahan,” He acknowledged, before his eyes swept between them with amusement. “Princess Cerilla. Still thick as thieves I take it?” Neither answered him. Instead, they matched his watchful gaze with ones equally intimidating. And though he didn’t speak, Callahan did take a subtle, protective step in front of Cerilla, which didn’t escape Sebastian’s notice. A laugh erupted from Sebastian’s chest, a melodic, raspy sound filled with fire. “This will be fun.” He sauntered away to stand with his parents, visions of beauty and confidence themselves. And then they all stood in silence, awaiting the show from the priestesses.
The illusions of the priestesses could be seen by the courtiers before the priestesses themselves could. Images, much like the ones the champions had been shown as children danced in the air as the priestesses began the tale of the Triad Trial – each one speaking a phrase of the tale cryptically and in verse like a poem. They didn’t need to deliver the message clearly. Everyone there already knew the setup of the Trial as well as they knew their own names.
“A Trial to decide rule of the Realm for the next decade.” Images of rulers past flashed around the room.
“A Trial for power blessed by the deities.” Ominous statues of the deities appeared, hovering over the courtiers in warning.
“No rules but this, play wisely.” A priestess cooed. “One hundred days will go by quickly.”
“Establish your camps, use strategy to outsmart your opponents, and kill when necessary.”
“Don’t stray from tradition, else we all pay the price.” Before them flashed an image of the Realm in utter ruin. Cerilla cast her gaze to Callahan, their unprecedented alliance in mind.
“Which ever clan is left with the most members will be our decennium victor.” An image of a shadowy figure holding the Sword of the Victor shone at the front of the ballroom. The very sword she had grown up seeing on her father’s hip. The same sword that was now in her possession, and she was desperate to bring home once again to the Moon Monarchy.
“Competitions throughout will earn you favor. But with the Moon Monarchy as reigning victors, the moon will be strong this year.” The final imagine was a rising moon, shining so brightly nearly every courtier shielded their eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. And with that display of poetic confusion, the priestesses retired, allowing the Trial courtiers to revel into the night as they saw fit.
Chapter Three
The pre-Trial ball was an exercise in excess. The food was rich, the champagne never ceased flowing, and the champions, along with their clans, were reveling with everything in them. Cerilla hoped they didn’t fight half as well as they partied or else she would be in trouble. The Kings and Queens had long ago retired, leaving their people to engage in their vices unrestrained.
Fear of impending death does different things to different beings. Some drink themselves silly, as indicated by the horde of courtiers that were draped over their chairs in a drunken stupor. Others allowed the fear to unleash their inhibitions and let them take what they may have been too bashful to on other occasions. Hence why if one were to strain their ears they could hear the muffled moans of lust, and upon peering into the shadowy alcoves one would find the half-dressed lords and ladies of the Triad Court, fornicating their anxieties away.
Everyone was giving in to their vices.
Cerilla didn’t imbibe as much as everyone else, and instead used the ball as an opportunity to gather intel on her competition. The Earth Province had power over the land and a clan of centuries old warriors, most of which had competed in previous Trials. The Sun Dominion had fire power, literally, and a ruthless champion leading them on. Her Monarchy had the advantage of healing, and a fight near water would be no competition, but most battles would take place in landlocked locations. She was outmatched by the other champions in size and experience, especially Sebastian, but at least she had what the Sun Dominion did not – an ally.
At the thought of her ally, her eyes began scanning the room. He had made himself scarce since his verbal sparring with Sterling, much to Cerilla’s dismay. Through the swirling crowd of taffeta and drunk lords, she found him on the dance floor in an instant. Callahan was spinning a lady from the Earth Province around the dance floor.
Callahan’s strong hands slid their way down her waist, inching dangerously close to one of his favorite feminine assets. His face held a rakish grin that sent a fire coursing through Cerilla’s veins. Though she hadn’t the right to be jealous. She was, after all, sitting next to her fiancé. Who, speaking of, had noticed just where her eyes were.
“You’re making a fool of me, Cerilla.” Sterling mumbled, his drunken mind struggling to form a coherent sentence. She wanted to snip back at him, tell him he was crazy, but in the face of possible impending death she didn’t have it in her to deny truth.
“You’re drunk, Sterling. Perhaps it’s time to go to bed.” Cerilla encouraged.
Sterling was on his feet in an instant, knocking his chair over and drawing the eyes of the crowd. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He was shouting. “So you could snog Callahan in a corner and get away with it!” Cerilla’s face heated, in both rage and embarrassment. Because, again, he wasn’t wrong.
“Lower your voice.” Cerilla whispered sternly.
“My concerns will be heard!” Sterling retorted, nearly falling over. Once he regained his balance he stepped forward, towering over Cerilla. “If I’m wrong then take me to the corner and show me you like me more than that prick.” He jabbed a thumb toward Callahan’s oblivious form. “I am to be your husband, and just as much a prince as he is.” Wrong, but she didn’t want to correct him when he was clearly acting out of his character.
“I will do no such thing.” Cerilla replied indignantly.
“Because you like him?” Sterling asked pathetically.
“No, because I don’t want to go over there where the exhibitionist heathens are having a sex party.” She failed to acknowledge the fact it wouldn’t have been the first time she engaged in activities in the shadows of a ball.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand, beginning to drag her toward the sounds of breathy moans and slapping skin in the corner.
“No!” She yanked her hand from him.
“Please?” He looked at her with innocent, begging eyes, making Cerilla feel terrible for entertaining the advances of any other male besides her fiancé. But she still wouldn’t give into his ask. She opened her mouth to deny him again, but another voice spoke out first.
Melodic fire entered her ears, the voice of her momentary savior. “The Princess said no.” Sebastian was towering over Sterling, his jaw set in an unwavering position of determination.
“This is my fiancée.” Sterling slurred.
“I hardly see how that’s relevant.” Sebastian glared at him. “She said no, and yet here you are dragging a Princess against her will toward a sex party. Is that the report you’d like me to relay to your King?” Sterling shrunk under his threat, taking a wobbly step away from Cerilla.
“No.” Sterling whispered.
“No, what? You aren’t married to her yet, therefore you rank beneath me.” Sebastian’s signature smirk replaced his previous look of steely determination. “Call me Your Highness.”
“No, Your Highness.” Sterling cowered, teeth gritted together in anger.
“Good male, now take your Princess’ advice and go to bed. We have only tomorrow to prepare for the wilds and I’d hate for you to die due to being ill-prepared and hungover, wouldn’t you?” He feigned concern, though Cerilla wondered if that was exactly what the Sun Prince wanted. “And I better not hear you speaking to her in anger again.”
“What do you care?” Sterling slurred. “Savage.”
Sebastian’s brows twitched as he glared at him without flinching, “All decent males care how females are spoken to. Or do you do things differently in the Moon Monarchy?”
Sterling debated arguing with him, putting on a show of defiance for the Princess, but ultimately he decided against it. “Goodnight, Cerilla.” He whispered before leaving without another word to Sebastian. “Being treated like this is not what I signed up for.” He slurred, causing Cerilla’s brows to turn up in confusion.
“What a sniveling coward. This is who the Moon Monarchy King deigns worthy of marrying a Princess?” Sebastian scoffed. “What an embarrassment.”
Cerilla felt the need to defend him. “He isn’t so bad. In fact, he’s usually sweet. I think he’s just nervous about the Trial, and obviously he is drunk. Plus, he’s good at many things relevant to the Realm too.” The excuses rattled of her tongue, though in a rushed and awkward manner as the full attention of the Sun Prince was overwhelming.
“So, his father is someone important then?” Sebastian surmised. Cerilla’s mouth opened, but she snapped it closed, refusing to respond. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Sebastian spun around to face the dance floor, placing himself close enough to Cerilla for her to smell the smokey aroma wafting off his skin.
Cerilla had picked up where she left off, watching Callahan grope his dance partner. A seething vine of possessiveness was wrapping its way around her brain, coaxing her to stride toward them and reclaim what was hers. But she couldn’t do that for a multitude of reasons. The main one being, he did not belong to her. Her hands curled into fists and her mouth pulled into a fine line.
Sebastian noted her change in body language and followed her line of vision, right to the Earth Prince. A warm chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re flirting with danger with that one, Princess Cerilla.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cerilla turned her nose up.
Another condescending chuckle fell from his lips, and her annoyed chortle fueled his desire to push her buttons. He took a step back and let his eyes appraise her. Sebastian’s eyes perused her body with a predatory gaze, taking in every dip and curve he found visually appealing. In her he saw a multitude of possibilities, including a way to use her to throw both she and Prince Callahan off their game. Two birds with one stone. He needed them unfocused for the Trial, and their apparent interest in one another was the perfect distraction.
“Would you like to dance, Princess Cerilla?” Cerilla’s mouth fell open, likely to give a curt and sarcastic answer, but her sister saved her from answering.
“Everything all right? Sterling…” Cassiopeia searched for the right words. “Seemed tired.”
“I’m fine, I was just about to tell Prince Sebastian I couldn’t dance.” Her eyes were pleading with her sister to save her.
“Why is that? Cassiopeia asked, an air of mischief in her eyes.
“You have to be joking?” Disbelief covered Cerilla’s face.
“I think it’d be nice.” Cassiopeia replied.
“As do I. Listen to your future Queen.” Sebastian smiled.
“You have to be joking as well.” Cerilla sneered at him.
“Why would I joke about dancing with a beautiful Princess?” Cerilla rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge his response. “Shall we pull rank? Even though you are a Princess, I am a Crown Prince. Denying me would be poor etiquette. And your future Queen sister agrees.” Cerilla eyed Cassiopeia with disdain.
“What happened to Captain Consent who sent my fiancé off for dragging me toward the sex party?” Another smokey laugh met her ears.
“You’re funny, Princess. Too bad I have to crush you in the Trial. In another life I believe we could have been friends.”
Cerilla snorted. “Unlikely.” Her eyes trailed him up and down, appraising him as he had her. Much to her dismay, she did not find him lacking. She reminded herself that though he was pleasing to the eye, he was an ass. Always had been. “Wasn’t it you who threatened to stab me when we were children?” Cassiopeia gasped at this.
“I believe I threatened to burn and kill you.” He chuckled like they were old friends reminiscing about good times or shared jokes. “A promise I may yet fulfill.” His lips twisted in a devilish smirk. “How about that dance?” He held his hand out in an invitation. One that Cerilla didn’t intend to take, until she saw Callahan nip playfully at his dance partner’s neck and run his long tongue up the column of her throat. He was clearly drunk, and they by no means owed one another any loyalty – but it enraged her, nonetheless.
“Fine.” She slapped her hand in his and drug him toward the dance floor, leaving her sister to watch amused from the sidelines.
Had Sebastian been a less graceful male, her forceful pull might have tugged him over, but he allowed her to drag him along all while laughing at her irritation with Callahan. Considering how easily he had pulled her into dancing with him out of jealous, he thought it might be easier than he originally assumed to use their feelings against them.
Once on the dance floor, Cerilla dropped his hand, suddenly aware of how forward and riled she was being. Sebastian appraised her with a condescending gaze, his lips lifting up in one corner.
“May I?” He held out his hand again, giving Cerilla enough time to question her choices. But the giggle coming from Callahan’s dance partner fueled her once more.
“You may.” It only took one step for his long legs to place him in front of her, their chests nearly touching. His warm skin brushed hers as he guided her hand to the place between his neck and shoulder, and then his heat settled comfortably into her hand and hip. Heat radiated off him and it soaked into her chilled skin like a cozy hug. A hug from a ferocious dragon. Cerilla had to actively repress the desire to sigh and lean in further. Something about him was so disarming to her it was confusing. “No wandering hands or funny business.” She ordered.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Though she swore he pulled her even closer still, his chin now brushing the top of her head. “And know I won’t hesitate to cut you down if I must.” He whispered. No tone of jest remained in his voice. He was serious.
“Duly noted. Shall I hold a dagger as we dance, for precaution, or can you restrain yourself from bloodshed for the moment?”
His smokey laugh sent goosebumps down her arms. “You are safe for now, Princess Cerilla.”
For several minutes they moved in synchronistic silence around the marble dance floor, and due to the late hour and the inebriation of their companions, no one noticed them. Golden hues began to blur behind him as Cerilla stared at his face. Sharp jaw, golden eyes, and sun-tanned skin. Just like every Sun King before him.
“Like what you see, Princess?” He smirked.
“Admitting I find you physically attractive does not in any way mean I find you appealing or even tolerable.”
“Nor does my admitting that I find your silver eyes and haphazard personality intoxicating mean I wouldn’t do anything to win this year’s Trial.” His gaze had turned menacing.
“Is this why you asked to dance?” She snorted, unamused. “To intimidate me?”
“That, and because Callahan turned me down.” Sebastian was not lacking in charm.
Another roll of her eyes. “If you think toying with the males in my life will destroy my focus, you prove how little you know and how much you have underestimated me.”
“I would never underestimate you, Princess.” His voice was mocking.
“My father says the era of the Moon Monarchy is not yet finished. I plan to win this Trial and I have the goddess and nearly a century of success on my side.” Cerilla boasted.
“We shall see about that.” The challenge had returned to his eyes, the very one he wore as he descended the stair at the beginning of the night.
They glowered at one another for a while before Sebastian changed the subject. “I do question though why you are here, Princess. I expected that brother of yours to be the Moon Monarchy’s champion this year.”
“Is that a question?” Cerilla bit back. “I can promise you I am more than competent to take his place.”
“I don’t doubt that, though it is an unorthodox choice. And admittedly, I’d love the chance to cut him down.” He flashed nearly all his teeth in a disrespectful smile.
“Feck all the way off.” Cerilla sneered. Sebastian’s eyes glittered with amusement.
Cerilla knew why she was the champion. Her father worried her sister would be unable to rule and would need Alaric to take her place as the Crown child, so he can’t risk losing him to the Trial. Cerilla was the spare to the spare. But she wouldn’t be telling Sebastian all that, seeing how her sister’s illness was not well-known in the Realm. “I am the spare’s spare.” She shrugged, clearly her vice for the night was unrestrained honesty and gall.
“That’s rather sad and bleak.”
“I don’t need your pity.” She bit back.
“I wasn’t offering it, just making an observation.” He twirled her in a graceful spin, pulling her closer to him upon her return to his arms. “Seems rather risky to me.” She could feel his heartbeat in her chest.
“I’ll have a whole clan with me, I won’t be out there alone.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“That may be. But as the champion, your head on a pike will be the prize. Not theirs.” Cerilla swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “And I will be vying for that prize.” And the reality of his statement hit as hard as the reality of her current circumstances. She was quite literally dancing with death. Due to her alliance with Callahan, Sebastian was her one true enemy of the Trial.
