Cursed Hearts | ATEEZ

016

My heart was swelling with happiness to the point where I felt it would burst when Jinae, Nari, and I made it back to the Palace of Atlas.

The handmaidens had suggested the three of us should go and explore the various restaurants and bars Martell had to offer at least once before the trials began; That we should enjoy an evening together without worries, simply talking, laughing, sharing secrets, and telling stories about our lives, our homes, whilst lounging in chairs and sofas and pillows underneath the clear night sky, surrounded by flickering lights from miniature flames, oil lamps, and the stars overhead as music and conversation flowed lazily around us.

I couldn't remember the last time I had been so free of worry, so elated with delight, with joy, dancing in the petal-covered streets with my two friends as our dresses flowed around us in clouds and waves of colourful fabrics, their hair which seemed like it was made of midnight itself, just like their king's, matching the veil of darkness and glinting stars above.

They had dressed me in autumn for the first time ever, my dress an effortless mix of silks in russet, hazel, and every shade of red which flowed gracefully down my figure, hugging every curve in a way that even I found flattering, a slit down the side of my leg letting in the warm summer breeze that still lingered in the night air, sleeves tight-fitting and off-the-shoulder, the dress held up by chains of gold and copper around my neck, only to flow into a delicate cape-like train at the back, billowing behind me as I moved.

Whether or not our evening out had been their attempt at distracting me from reality, if only for a moment, I didn't know. Nevertheless, it had definitely worked. For the last month, training had been the only thing I knew, the only thing I spent my days on, my nights on.

But despite that, despite the effort I had put into improving, preparing, I hadn't been able to push away the feeling of nervousness, of fear, gnawing away at me. Not until tonight, not until I had allowed myself to laugh again despite the trials and despite the horrors I would have to face sooner or later.

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My dress which had been whispering quiet songs of secrets and winds and spirits behind me as I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom fell silent as I came to a halt in front of the mountains of pillows and the sea of covers sprawled on the bed, my eyes immediately drifting to the weapons displayed on the silky surface of comfort and sleep, so wrong and yet so beautiful, dangerous and yet alluring.

Until now, I had been able to push away my knowledge of the approaching trials, the fact that I would undoubtedly have to fight for my life within the next couple of days. I no longer knew the dates of the days that passed by, though I was awfully aware of the fact that it had already become August. The knives on my bed only proved that.

There were eight in total, I counted, carefully reaching out for one of the silvery ones and letting my finger run down the side of the sharpened blade, small compared to the ones I had been training with, but perfectly shaped for my hand, for me.

One knife from each king, I realized, putting down the first one and picking up another, studying its long, slender blade and the shorter hilt, noticing how each colour, each metal, told me exactly who had gifted me each one; platinum from the kings of the North and Winter, silver from the kings of the East and Spring, gold from the kings of the South and Summer, and copper from the kings of the West and Autumn.

Although it was custom more than anything else, a tradition more than anything else, the gift still warmed my heart as I tightened my grip around the copper hilt of the throwing knife, the russet colour of autumn glowing warmly in the light from the chandeliers overhead, though it loosened a bit again as my eyes drifted to the package next to the knives, fingertips tingling with excitement as I reached out for it.