Pawn's Sacrifice by K.D. Tabith

Author:K.D. Tabith [Tabith, K.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

Chapter Ten – Luka

“Who are you to the Third Blessed Prince, you anonymous suitor?”

The demand leaps from the lips of the last man who was chosen to be Cathalan’s suitor, a tall brawny individual with lovely hair. Fedryn. That’s what Cathalan called him. He glowers at Luka and purses his full lips as if he knows the expression will only further highlight his already statuesque features.

Luka hides a smile, his answer already prepared. He had watched prior suitors approach Cathalan, and noted how differently the crowd reacted when one went anonymous – the air of mystery was too much for the people, and the prince, to avoid. Apparently it affected the suitors, too.

“I’m a suitor, the same as you,” he says, “though for all that Cathalan seems to… favor you, it seems one of us will keep that title longer than the other.” As Fedryn splutters, Luka manages to restrain a yawn as he glances at the moonlight filtering through the darkened windows; no, not moonlight anymore. Already, the pink blush of the sun fills the sky.

Dawn? No wonder I’m exhausted.

Dancing the night away has drained what little panicked energy Luka has left. Exhaustion tugs at him with eager hands, and Luka forces himself to think of Theo – of Cassian and his unborn sibling and all the others who will suffer should Luka fail now – and jolts back to reality.

Across from Fedryn, the two women lean their heads together. This close, there is something similar about their features. Sisters, Luka remembers. They speak in low voices about –

Luka blinks in surprise. They’re talking about Siacchi. Cesscounthe.

“I hear they are fraternizing with the wolves,” the blonde says in a nasally voice. Her brunette sister giggles.

“I hear they invited the wolves in so they could fraternize with them,” says the brown-haired man.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the brunette woman says, “they’re clearly still at war with each other. And it’s well deserved. Siacchi is the one who invited the attack.”

Luka presses his lips together, but, thankfully, before he is forced to listen to a moment more, a flock of guards enter the room. They escort Luka and suitors from the elegant room, past the line of three individuals – they must be the other heirs – who have remained, unmoving, in the shadowed section beyond Cathalan’s throne. Luka watches them from the corner of his eye, and they watch back.

That must be Chrill. Luka looks the enormous man over. Cathalan’s elder brother, the Scorned Prince, rejected from the throne for reasons Luka was never able to uncover, was huge when Luka last saw him, and has grown only taller since. The man’s eyes glaze past Luka, void of recognition.

And Kian. Cathalan’s brother, born in the same month by a different mother, the one who looks so similar to Cathalan that they could be twins.

The final, the redhead with a knife-like smile, has to be Marlacyn.

Luka forces his sluggish thoughts to function: it is unsurprising to see that either those close to the throne or those close to Cathalan have remained to watch the whole ceremony.

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