“It was you who killed Din?” The general took a step back, stunned. “Adik didn’t kill him, did he? He was never jealous of your marriage with Din. He was the scapegoat.”
“Din—my father.” Clen’s voice quivered.
After a moment, as if cracking out of a shell, Clen’s expression went cold.
“You killed my father,” his voice came in a growl that belonged to a beast before it pounced on its prey.
A vein bulged on his temple—like Din when ire swallowed him whole and glasses burst forth to shower Clythia, her skin marred with a red net as the shards found shelter on her face, and neck, and arms.
She shouldn’t think like that. Clen was nothing like his father. He was sweet and kind. This anger was only momentary; he would get over it once she made him see the reason behind her deed.
“Clen, I didn’t have a choice. I needed to protect myself. And I needed to protect you,” her tone etched with boredom, despite the dread coiling in her gut.
“You are a soulless monster!” Clen lurched to his feet as his seat tipped over with a thud, revealing the tremor in his bulky body, the smooth expression cracking as crimson flashed on his neck and face, more veins bulging, palm fisted.
Well, there was a first time for everything, and this was the first time she witnessed her son swelling with a torrent of fire. Even annoyed, he had always brushed things off, never affected for longer than a minute. She was the dancing fire, and he was the splash of winter. Sometimes, even his teases went beyond smoldering her rage and ended up putting a smile on her face.
But what would happen if a fire met another of its kind? She was about to find out. Part of her was proud to discover this side of Clen; fury was good, it was an instinct for survival and leadership. There was still hope that he would make a fine king after all.
“I am fatherless because you wanted all the power of the throne for yourself,” he pointed a finger at her. “You never wanted to share the glory. All heads must bow to you, right? The presence of a man at your side will jeopardize that; it will make you invisible, so why would you? Get rid of him. Problem solved!”
The edge of a servant’s yellow garment flashed at the gate before disappearing with a whoosh that belonged to a run.
Clythia darted a warning look at the general. Despite the stun splashed on his face, he ambled out to deal with the eavesdropper.
“That was never my intention, son,” Clythia said, as the general closed the door behind himself, leaving the two alone. “I murdered your father to protect you.”
A hysterical howl left Clen’s throat as he shook his head. “Do you even hear yourself? Who would say ‘protect’ and ‘murder’ in the same sentence?” His gaze stilled on her.
“Why the fuck do you even care? He had never been in your life—like, ever. I am the one who raised you, who fed and clothed you, and wiped your ass!” Clythia rested her palms on her waist.
"I. Hate. You." He seethed. "I fucking hate you!"
“Hate me all you want, Clen,” she blared, matching his tone. “But I don’t regret what I did to Din.”
“Like you don’t regret what you did to the innocent child? Like you don’t regret never telling his guardians that you gutted him like a lamb? Like you don’t regret asking for zero fucking consent to do so? Like you don’t regret sneaking away like a coward after the deed was done? Of course, Mom, I believe you. You never regret your actions. I’m happy to see you for the monster that you are, finally. And I want no part with you.”
Clen turned, aiming for the gate, and snatched his grade report from the table, scrunching it.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” Clythia grabbed his wrist. “You don’t understand what Din was. He would never have been a kind father to you. You are right; I am a monster. But isn’t it better to live with one than with two? With the one who would truly care for you?”
“What’s the point?” He craned his neck to her, with a grin that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “At the end of the day, a hug from a monster or its throttle is the same. Despite its motivation, despite the justification, or affection, whatever reason it can give, its hug would crush bones to dust like grain in a sack as much as its choke does.” He leaned toward her nose, his hazel eyes burning with hatred. “No one wants to befriend a monster, let alone be parented by one.”
Clythia’s grip went limp. A lump surged down her throat, settling in her gut. Her eyes stung, and a tear trickled down her right cheek.
She had never cried when glasses tore her body—never cried when she trekked up the highest mountain, dueled with ten foes, or limped with pain after a spear entrenched in her leg during the Final Tribulation.
Her efforts of fifty-seven years, hurled back at her face, seemed to do the trick. She wished for the ground to swallow her whole and end her existence right there.
Her son didn’t look back as he stormed towards the gate.
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He might have been done with her, but she wasn’t done with him.
She summoned a dagger to her palm and, with precision, darted it towards Clen’s exposed neck. He was a step away from the gate when he whirled around and caught the tip of the blade between two fingers, red liquid trickling down his thumb.
His brows shot up. But before he could say anything, she bolted towards him.
“You don’t fucking walk away from a monster exposing your back,” she seethed, clenching her teeth. “If you aren’t willing to hear me out, then fucking fight me like a warrior. Kill me if you have to!”
He flinched, but before Clythia feared he would back down from the challenge, his expression was doused with fury again. He tossed the blade aside, eliciting a clunk when it met the marble tile.
Then he settled his grade report back on the table.
Good.
Scrunching it was one thing, though he would pay for that later. But if he had tossed it too, may Ilyana have mercy on him, he would have been a dead man. Guaranteed.
As Clen’s fingers wrapped around her arm, blackness enveloped her, and they reemerged in the Dueling Hall.
The Dueling Hall was a dome-shaped room with an exposed ceiling to the sky. Swords, spears, javelins, katanas, arrows, axes, and maces decorated its ebony walls, held in place by nothing but the gust of magic. They gleamed silver as the sun poured into the room. The floor was a merciless tile on which one could crack a neck if one slipped the wrong way.
Clen grabbed a sword, hoisting it up, his arm muscles bulging, revealing veins protruding behind his dark skin.
Clythia clutched a katana, its handle made of wood, offering a lightweight experience with a deadly edge that sparkled against the sun.
As soon as the katana was in her hands, Clen was onto her. He threw his whole body at her, his sword slicing through the air, met halfway by her blade as muscle memory kicked in.
For a few minutes or so, they danced around. Clen was grunting as he poured his hate into the blade he wielded, throwing all his weight into the blows he meted out, giving her the advantage to use his momentum against him.
“Your rage is getting the better of you, Clen,” Clythia said as she swatted his blade away from her face, making him stagger back. “Throw your momentum only when you deliver the final blow, to make it more dramatic. Or do it only if your opponent is too strong and you are desperate to end them.”
He didn’t say anything. He came at her from all directions, but she easily blocked his attacks with a dancer’s grace, further irking him as he observed her effortless defense.
Clen’s skin was glistening and flushed. The heat from the scorching sun and the swaying of her body were drenching her in sweat too.
“Why did you kill him?” He grunted, his voice quivering, his blade stilled above her face, propped by her katana.
She swung away his sword, and they began circling each other like wolves ready to pounce. “Because he was a fucking asshole who never liked to be challenged and instead enjoyed silencing anyone who opposed him.”
Then she sprang, giving Clen the impression she was aiming for his head, but at the last minute, she swept him off his feet. He landed on his back with a thump, a muffled grunt escaping his throat.
She didn’t give him a second to breathe as her katana aimed at his head—he rolled away, and the blade sliced the air with a whooshing sound. He whirled to meet her blade with his.
“Was that a good enough reason to murder him?” His breath was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” she said.
Their blades resumed their dance, holding back the killing blow as it was time to hear each other out—a tradition they have maintained since Clen was old enough to fight.
“We started courting when your grandfather, Lord Lupis, and your other grandfather, King Dayona Hoverlow, saw the bonding between the two families as a way to strengthen Ilyana’s seat,” her voice came accompanied by the clashing sounds of the blades.
“Why?”
“The Lupises are the most powerful arcane family in DavinSaw after ours, the Hoverlows. Connect the dots.” She caught him off guard as she ducked under the slice of his sword and jabbed him in the waist with her elbow, staggering him forward.
As her blade sliced to meet his back, he whirled and blocked it.
“So your father, Din, and I started courting. It wasn’t bad at first. He did all the romantic stuff men do. He even ordered a diamond throne from Hypercas for me.”
Clen’s brows shot up, his attention still focused on her katana. “The one in the throne room?”
“The very same,” she grunted. “But things started going downhill once we tied the knot. Your father never liked his opinions to be challenged. He never lost an argument without behaving like a buffoon.”
She swung her katana with a clean sweep, landing in a lunging position as he blocked it with a defensive poise. He did it better than last year. She gave him a curt nod of approval.
“He disliked it when I challenged his opinions. When I pointed out the architectural mistakes in Melop’s fort and suggested reconstruction, he shot down my concern. And if it weren’t for the guards, people could have died when it collapsed.”
Their movements stilled once again, their blades crisscrossing.
“When I suggested that Jin was better fitted to be a Lord to rule Aryan instead of Lord Kip, he took that as an attempt of mine to cheat with my former suitor. Though we only spent one night with Jin in Wigmond—an awful one at that—no skill—and my suggestion was purely political.”
That last detail about Jin evaporated all focus from her son’s face. She swept his feet from under him with such force that his back hit the ground with a thud. “That is a jarringly unnecessary detail I want to erase from my memory,” he grunted.
“Second lesson,” she said, stretching out her arm to propel him to his feet. “Don’t be distracted by your opponent’s words. Your opponent will do anything to distract and kill you before your next blink. Your emotions are always on your face, Clen. You’re an open book; it’s easy for your opponent to predict your next move.”
“You sound like my Weaponry teacher.”
Their blades began swaying with smooth motion once more.
“Then listen to him instead of pulling a prank,” she said. “Where was I—oh yes—so, like I feared, Melop’s fort collapsed. If it wasn’t for the guards, many people would have died. He was furious at me and blamed me for using magic to bring the fort down. Can you believe that?” She cackled, while Clen’s breath came raggedly and his balance faltered as she attacked him with the hilt of her katana.
“So, like a madman, he struck me. He kept on striking me with his bare hands like a low-life human until I was wheezing, blood gushing out of my nose and mouth,”
The force of her blow increased, Clen’s face unable to decide if it should remain alert, shocked, or both.
“Until my eyes were so swollen that opening my eyelids was an agonizing torture. He blamed me for using magic to bring down the fort just to prove a point. And he killed Jin in the name of disobeying the prince. The general doesn’t know, so keep this a secret.”
Jin had been Arkansov’s most favored lieutenant. To this day, the general compared the other soldiers to Jin. When they slacked on their duty, Jin’s competence was his card to shame them.
“Why haven’t you killed him sooner? It’s not like you to be patient.” Clen was busy blocking, brows furrowed—she wasn’t backing down for him to mull over her revelation.
“Then miss the opportunity to bear an offspring who will be the most powerful king of DavinSaw? I think not.” Her motions became swifter, and thankfully, Clen matched her rhythm.
“You must understand that protecting the royal seat and the continent is a duty that comes above all. I might sit on the throne, but I do so only to serve the land. I bore the pain your father caused for the same reason, I killed him once I knew I was pregnant with you for the same reason, I swore allegiance to the Shadow for the same reason. That’s what it takes to be a responsible leader, sacrificing yourself for it all. And even choosing one innocent life for the rest to breathe clean air won’t be off the table. Nothing is as black and white as you would wish it to be, Crown Prince.”
Then they began circling each other, Clen with less vigor, his breath coming raggedly.
His fury had completely ebbed away.