𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 | ✎

ii.

The ride back to the castle was once again filled with only silence and a few conspicuous glances. Knowing I was going to receive my new mission once the messenger and I were both back in my chambers, I sat anxiously for the entire length of the ride.

The sun was about to peak over the horizon when we finally arrived back at the palace. As I stood to leave the carriage, the messenger grabbed my wrist.

"Your next mission," they said, "will be more difficult."

The words made me sit back down, anxiousness eating at my stomach. "What is it?" I asked, unable to withhold the facade of calm and collected.

The messenger let a pause hang in the air before saying, "You are assigned to kill the Ambassador of the Night Clime."

I didn't see the problem or the difficulty -- I've killed an Ambassador before. The confusion must have shown on my face because they cleared their throat.

"You will have four days time-"

"What?" I exclaimed. "Are you insane?"

"These are not my orders," the messenger said sharply. "The reason for the shorter time frame is because the Royal Trials are approaching. This needs to be completed beforehand, because we have lots of missions lined up for you during the duration of the Trials."

I let out a sigh through my nose. "Four days is absurd," I muttered. "I would have to leave tonight."

"These are not my orders," they said again, this time with an air of guilt.

I nodded, understanding. This wasn't their doing. "Is there anything else?"

"No. You may go."

I bit my tongue and stood again, and this time, they let me go. It was still dark, so I was able to use the shadows as my cover to make my way to the kitchen entrance.

I released a breath as I came in the door without a sound, careful to step only on floorboards that didn't creak. I was about to smile with the realization that my escapade had went undetected, until I stepped into the kitchen.

"Where were you?" Helion asked from his stool on the kitchen island, tossing an apple in the air. He took in my all-black outfit, my no-doubt disheveled hair and wide eyes, the black bag on my back, and the knives at my thighs. His brows raised as his eyes came back up to meet mine.

It was almost a parallel to years before, when we were more than friends. My absences were always unexplained, and I never spent a night with him. I especially never allowed him in any part of my room besides my bed.

"Nowhere," I answered, my habitual explanation. I walked near him only to snatch the apple from his hand and take a bite. "Why are you awake?"

"Couldn't go back to sleep," was all he supplied me with. He rolled his eyes when I took the last bite of his apple, then grabbed another from the basket. "Are we still training at dawn?"