“Why aren’t you leaving with me?” Demitria asked, running her hands over Gwendolyn’s cheeks to rid of the tears. “Tell me!”
Gwendolyn just shook her head. “I can’t, I’m sorry.” She buried her head into Demitria’s shoulder and sobbed. Demitria tried to question her more, but gave up and planted a kiss on her lips.
Today was going to be a long day.
***
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for those whose names had been called to leave and the room to fall silent once more. My stomach flipped, anxiety coursing through me. I lay waiting for the guards to return, wondering whether Prince Hadrian would tell anyone about our episode only hours before. I still felt the bulk of the Prince’s cloak beside me where I hid it beside my sheets. It was the best option, I didn’t want anyone finding it and asking questions. It clearly didn’t belong to me; it was too fine to go with anything I owned.
The lack of sleep drained my body. I wasn’t a morning person anyway, but today I felt even worse.
I needed some comfort, anything to take my mind off how the rest of the day would play out. It was not a good decision, but then again, I was beginning to get used to my poor choice in actions. I climbed from my bunk, and joined Petrer in his, nestling up to his chest. His warm arm wrapped around me and we lay there, not saying a word. He smelled of open air and cedar wood, a scent that brought back memories of home. We had spent many nights like that, locked together in a silent embrace. I almost expected him to pipe up and grill me about not telling him I was a shifter, but he didn’t. He just lay behind me, his breath brushing against my neck whilst he slumbered. I knew how wrong it was, but for just a moment, I allowed myself to push back the memories of them.
The door creaked open; the female guard from the previous night poked her head around the frame to look inside before inviting herself in. Another followed in after her, one I’d not seen before. She had to duck when she walked into the room, making sure the metal antlers that stood from the top of her helmet didn’t knock against the doorframe. She was young, younger than any of the other guards I’d seen. Although her face was smooth and youthful, her hair was peppered with grey strands. She was tall, beautiful. Her eyes were a bright mahogany. She carried a pile of clothes in her arms, a heap of purple tunics and black slacks very similar to what she herself sported beneath her armour.
“Put these on,” she commanded, throwing a set to Gwendolyn and two onto the end of Petrer’s bed. “I’ll be waiting outside, don’t be long.”
***
WE CHANGED IN haste and left with the guards. Just like the previous night, we were headed straight for the throne room.
In the morning light, the throne room seemed like a different room entirely. Streams of light hit the bone chandelier that hung proud in the center of the room, reflecting off the hanging crystals.
In the day, it was easier to make out subtle details that I had missed last night. Vines clung to the walls and spread across the arches of the ceiling. Pedestals covered in flowers each sat in the four corners of the room, a waterfall of colours and aromas. The four tables had been removed, leaving an open space for us to stand while we waited for our instruction. The once blood-stained floor was clean and spotless, not a speck of black blood left upon its surface.
King Dalior was absent. I didn’t need to look for him because I could just feel his lack of presence. Instead, I watched another elf walk forward and take her place before the throne.
She was dressed in the same purple and gilded armour of the royal guard, a long sword hanging from the bejewelled belt around her thick waist. Her hair was cut short to her scalp, highlighting her wide, strong features. She was pretty and fierce, but there was something off about her stare. Something disconnected. She kept one hand on her armoured hip, the other on the hilt of the sword.
“Initiates, listen up.” Her deep voice spilled across the room, stilling all conversation amongst the group. “My name is Alina Faethana, King Dalior’s first Commander of the royal legion. But you will address me as Commander. King Dalior has tasked me to oversee your training and introduction into the royal legion, which begins today. When your name is called, you are to step forward and shift. Depending on your level of shifting ability you will be separated into one of three ranks. Each rank has been organised by King Dalior himself to ensure you are trained with those with similar abilities and strengths…”
I missed what she said next for panic took over. I felt my heart beat faster and my breath become too heavy to take in. I kept my gaze plastered to the Commander, and I scratched nervously at my hips. My secret would be spilled like the blood of the Morthi who’d kneeled in the same place I stood.
She gestured for a guard at the back of the room and the guard with the antler helmet stepped forward. She walked through the crowd, her metal boots clattering across the stone floor. When she passed me, I saw she carried a scroll in her hand, tied in a purple ribbon. At the bottom of the steps, she kneeled before the Commander. It was clear the guards had a great respect for her.
She didn’t move from her bow until the Commander made a sound, prompting her to stand and pass the rolled parchment into her outstretched hand.
Slowly, the Commanders scarred fingers pulled the ribbon and dropped it to the floor for the guard to pick up. The parchment unravelled before her, stopping inches from the ground.
With an extended finger, she clawed the parchment, the sound of nail on paper sent shivers up my arms. She brought her finger to a rest at the top of the parchment and lifted her gaze over the top back at us.
“Let us begin. If I call your name step forward.” The Commander scanned the crowd a final time and looked back to the parchment. “Illera Daeris of Horith.”
Illera shuffled through the crowd, her head held high. She made her way to the space where the Commander pointed and stood.
“Shift,” the Commander said.
I tasted Illera’s shift before it began, the same as always. I’d never seen her shift before, but I had heard whispers of the beast she became. The tendrils of smoke moved like angry snakes, pulsing from her body. They wrapped around her and twisted into a note of darkness that blurred her body. The darkness buzzed and burst outwards until it dissipated into nothingness. What was left in its wake was a pure white lion.
I’d only ever seen them in books for they were native to Morgatis, not Thessolina. She was white from her fur to the large, pointed teeth she showed off when she opened her jaw. Her red eyes stood out against her face in contrast. She looked monstrous, strong. One elfin girl jumped backwards with a shriek when Illera prowled too close. She was showing off.