Or was the excitement back?
They were waiting inside of a room on the lower floors, sitting on hard chairs while Shaden patiently waited for the man to speak. But Morohar was sitting perfectly still as if encased in stone, with his eyes closed and his hands openly postured on his knees as if he was meditating. Given how old the Elder looked, Shaden didn’t want to speak out of place. There was a certain air the man gave off—a deep, calm, yet ominous atmosphere that reminded Shaden of one of those mummified corpses that he’d seen during history class.
When Shaden was about to open his mouth, Morohar’s eyelids peeled back, and his gray eyes—they looked diseased, now that Shaden had noticed—looked at him. The old man exhaled slowly, did a small circling motion to his stomach with his hands, and placed his hands on his lap. He opened his mouth.
“I have made you wait,” he spoke with clear words. “You must excuse my old age, as it hinders me more as the end of my time nears.”
“I could heal you,” Shaden offered.
“An end must come to everything, and it is not a fearful one,” the old man said. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard that you are a child.”
“Yes,” Shaden agreed. “Am I not?”
“Even with my experience, I cannot surely tell. Yes, your body is that of a child. But power such as yours is all but childish.”
“It just happened to be. I have been like this since I was born, I think.”
“Which makes it all the more strange. I do not feel the touch of intricacy on your spirit. Nor is it a vast ocean of mana. Yet, you draw your power.”
“Could you say it more easily?”
“Water must be contained in a jar,” Morohar explained. “And the jar must have water to pour. You pour and produce water, yet your jar and the water within it are absent, and yet again there is no noticeable influence that is pouring water instead for you. Strange, very strange. But you must have heard this many times.”
“A little? I think Pleid said something similar.”
“So he must have.”
Morohar inhaled, and his ribs swelled, then shrunk as he breathed out. Then he got up from his seat.
“I am here for a different purpose, but it was with awe that I have met you,” the old man said, tilting his head to Shaden. “There are those who have come for you, and they will arrive soon.”
Shaden bowed back. “The prince didn’t send you?”
“His Majesty could not.”
“You would call him His Majesty, even while being an Elder?” Shaden asked. “Why?”
“I am from Nafar, and this is its custom. Why call a king, ‘king’ and a slave, ‘slave?’ I have heard that you are on bad terms with Prince Salahin. And I worry that your vast power will bring ruin to him. He has shown you mercy, but you would not understand. And you have shown him mercy by not bringing his head to the grave.”
Shaden frowned. “Really?”
“You are young, and you have not flaunted your power. It is like fire, a tool, and if too big, its flames will consume those around it. May you not destroy.”
The old man’s face was unreadable—a wrinkly mannequin with a moving mouth. Shaden found it eerie and wondered how old the man was.
“I won’t misuse it,” Shaden told him.
The man turned around, faced the door, then walked out, closing it behind him. Shaden had wanted something more substantial to occur, but he was alone now. He sighed, falling on the table. Just then, the door opened, and he shot back up on his chair.
The person who entered was a man with a scar running through his left cheek and a look that reminded Shaden of a bandit. It was a familiar face, one that had been very memorable to him.
“Boy from the Jakhar Kishaks,” the hunter greeted, spreading his arms out wide. “So, you have come!”
“Hamanur?” Shaden said.
“It is I. And you? I have heard you’ve slain a wyvern,” he said jokingly.
There was also someone else who’d entered after him, though Shaden couldn’t quite tell who it was, as familiar as they seemed. A young man with lean features, moderately handsome, clothed in a white cloak speckled with sand on its edges.
“That’s mostly why I’m here,” Shaden replied.
“I did not think that they would place the blame on you, though you own the wyvern,” Hamanur muttered, shaking his head. “A mere child, yet—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Shaden stopped. “What do you mean?”
The hunter raised an eyebrow. “Is that not how it is?”
“Well—I took the blame on purpose,” Shaden told him. “Because I knew I could take it.”
“Ah?”
“Just ask the people what I did here,” he said, “and you’ll know why I chose to take the blame.”
“The one who slew the wyvern—”
“Was me.”
“You?”
Hamanur didn’t look convinced, and his face was filled with doubt. But he nodded once.
“It was good to see you,” he said. “Have you healed many?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry that there will be no reward,” Hamanur apologized, clasping his hands together in a gesture of respect. “But I will remember it. Please, talk to this man. Your people have sent him.”
“They did?”
“Yes. I must go now. There was a great threat, and while it has been diverted, there is no telling when it will come back.” Hamanur pursed his lips. “It’s a pity that you are leaving so soon.”
“Well...you’ll see,” Shaden smiled. “I don’t think there will be any complaints.”
“Will there not? Well then, may our paths cross again.”
The hunter left, and the young man sat down in front of Shaden, lowering his hood. He seemed very familiar to Shaden, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“You are?” Shaden asked.
“Teval, sir. I have been sent by Master Shaya to assist you in everything you need.”
“You were the guy who was always next to her,” Shaden recalled. “I remember seeing you at the trial.”
“Yes sir. My Master was worried that you would be burdened with your task and that the people here would have mistreated you. Please, tell me if they have, or if your task is too great.”
“When did you arrive?”
“This morning, sir. I was fortunate enough to receive the assistance of Hamanur and the Great Teacher, who traveled with me and gave me the promise of treating you with honor. I bring with me gifts and servants and food, all of which now belong to you.”
“Then you must not have heard of the current events,” Shaden told him. “I can leave now.”
“You can?” The young man looked surprised. “If my memory serves me correctly, you were tasked with healing ten thousand people.”
“Which I did many times over,” Shaden replied. “I’m done with this place.”
“So soon?”
“So soon.”
“Then—I must make preparations at once,” Teval stated with urgency. “Please, come join the tent I have set up at the base of the Wall not far from here. It will be better to stay there than here.”
“When do you think we’ll be able to leave?”
“If you wish, today.”
“Make it tomorrow morning,” Shaden told him. “Bring me to the tent.”
They both got up and left the room, and the young man led Shaden outside where the sun was shining brightly, almost burningly, and Shaden waved his hand when Teval began to take his cloak off to give it to him.
“I’m okay with the sun,” Shaden said. Teval nodded.
It was around ten minutes before they reached a small group of tents pitched some ways behind the animal pens, occupied by two men and one woman who Shaden also remembered as people working around the Jakhar Kishak’s residence. With them were also a few kevali as well as small boxes filled with goods.
“These were meant as a gift to the Lord General of the Wall,” Teval said, “but if we are to go tomorrow, it would not matter. Do with them as you please.”
“What are they?”
“Fine wine, linen, spices, tender jerky, and articles of silver and gold.”
“You might as well give them,” Shaden said, “but can I take out some things?”
“Of course. They are yours now.”
Shaden quickly scanned the boxes with his mana sense and found the container with the valuable articles within. Finding an etched ring within, he unfastened the lid and fished it out along with a silver chain.
“Are there any sweets?” he asked.
“Yes. There are preserved dates saturated with sugar, as well as a little honey.”
“I’ll take some of that too. And some wine.”
When his arms were filled with gifts, Shaden faced the young man and the servants.
“I’ll be back in the morning tomorrow,” he told them. “So do what you need to do. I’m not very good with formalities, so it would be good if you could ask the Lord General for his signature and seal as proof of my accomplishment.”
“May I assist you to your room?” Teval asked.
“It’s okay. You must be tired. Should I extend the period?”
The young man shook his head. “My Master would be happy to see you as soon as possible. I will make preparations for tomorrow.”
“Thanks. It must be rough, being a servant.”
“Not at all. Master Shaya treats me very kindly.”
After thanking the servants, Shaden happily jogged to the Wall, making his way towards the familiar set of stairs and rooms he’d traveled often in the past few weeks. Kibra was sure to be at class now, and he’d deliver some things before joining him.
It had been long, but not too long. He’d made some friends. Now that he looked back on his time at the Wall, everything had been so simple, without the drama and hardship he’d worried about. Well, he had spent his time in the infirmary away from the battles with the wyverns on the top of the Wall, but still, everything had worked out in a way.
He’d been very irritated when he’d first arrived, restless and unsure when he wasn’t circulating, but it was finally over. Maybe this was a process of growing. He’d never felt like he’d grown as Shaden, as everything had come so simply for him. But the recent turn of events had brought unforeseen discomforts, and he’d found a new side of himself. Kind of. Was he more tolerant now? Lytha would have told him to put the wrongdoers in their rightful place, but he’d never actually fought someone before with malice. The battle at the underground fighting ring had been his first aside from training.
Who exactly was he as Shaden? He’d thought of himself to be a tourist in a fantasy world, enjoying its pleasures, and while he’d seen much, he didn’t really feel like a native. It had always been like that. He was Demund before he was Shaden, and the difference in customs between the two worlds made him feel out of place sometimes.
He only wanted to enjoy, but recent events had disproved him. His actions had consequences. All these new people he was meeting—they were interesting, amazing sometimes, but he wasn’t quite friends with them. Maybe he was with the younger generation, like Eshel and definitely Eilae, but not with the others.
When had he begun thinking so much? There had been simpler times when everything had been pleasant. Before, he’d seen everyone as nothing but side characters in his life as Shaden, but with each passing day, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d hurt Kibra without meaning it, and getting to know him better only added weight to his guilt.
He could always do as he’d liked, but he didn’t want to be hated. Everyone was busy now in the waking world. He rarely saw Enariss anymore, had lost contact with Jothan, and while Riley and Rhyne were still there, they liked playing soccer and games, which he rarely did. They only met for studying or hanging out on weekends now. It wasn’t bad, but sometimes he wished for more.
He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. Ever since the birthday, his worries had multiplied. Meeting new people, living in a new environment—he wasn’t feeling superb. It took time to adjust, but when he was just getting used to things, he’d been sent to the Wall.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
But now, it was over. Perhaps it was for the best that Morohar the Elder hadn’t given him too much attention.
He found Kortuya in the infirmary working on some papers. The man only looked up when Shaden was only a few steps away with wide eyes. Shaden placed the bottle of wine on the table.
“It’s a gift,” Shaden said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Ah, that is very fortunate. I am glad for you,” Kortuya told him, eyeing the bottle. “Is this wine?”
“Yes. I thought you might like it. I’ve read in a book that doctors need alcohol to stay healthy.”
“Perhaps it is correct. But wine is rare in these parts.” Kortuya put down his pen and bowed. “I am grateful for the gift. I’m afraid I don’t have much to give you.”
“You’ve done plenty,” Shaden said.
The doctor’s eyes bloomed into a smile, and Shaden could see his white teeth peek through his lips as he shook his head.
“I am baffled by your kindness,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sort of laugh. “All I can ask is, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you expend your strength so freely when we are but strangers to you?”
“It was part of my retribution,” Shaden shrugged.
“But with your strength,” the Kortuya continued, “you could have chosen not to come here.”
I didn’t really know, Shaden wanted to stay. “Maybe I like being normal,” he decided.
“Normal?” The doctor smiled. “If that is what you wish for, then you should show less kindness to others.”
“It wasn’t really kindness. I just did what I wanted to do.”
After sharing a short farewell with the doctor, Shaden carried the rest of the items to Kibra’s house, and upon entering the door, he found no one inside. Kibra’s mother was involved in the wyvern-processing business, so she was outside. Shaden left the honey and spices on the dining table and wrapped his fingers around the ring and chain he’d placed in his pocket.
It was easy enough to find the boy, but he kept himself hidden. He watched as the students were taught, repeating the phrases the teacher wrote on the board while scribbling things down on their smooth tablets of stone. It wasn’t advanced—just simple vocabulary and spelling.
He doubted he’d ever experience that as Shaden. Not that he wanted to, but watching them, looking back at his life, he wondered if he had missed the childish experiences he was meant to go through as Shaden—and it was probably because of the lack of it that his life had begun taking such large turns. If he’d been normal, he could have stayed at the village, or remained with Mistilia, continued to train at the Swordsmanship Training Academy of Danark, gone through petty hardships, made friends, and wouldn't have gone around getting to know people whom he’d have to leave shortly.
Friends. He wanted close friends. Children were always so easy to get close to since they didn’t really push anyone away. But they lacked the depth that he’d started to desire, and it left him wanting to see Eilae again. She’d been a child, but her upbringing had enriched her character; in some ways, she had been similar to him. Him, with an adult mind, and her, with a mind that had been forcefully matured.
Kibra—Shaden thought of him as a nice kid. He had a passion he’d never had as Shaden, a passion for plants, which he’d found silly at first, but it had been much more significant than he’d imagined. He could make fun of the boy for being so easily pleased.
But what was so good about himself? He hadn’t worked hard to get what he had. As Shaden, he was lazy, lax, and laid back. While people put their lives on the line, he could flick a finger and solve their problems.
Maybe if he had been born this way, he would have felt proud. But being Demund first, he was jealous of the him who could achieve anything without trying. He’d tried a little, back when he’d lost a leg. But that had been short. Things had come to him too easily.
This little detour was making him think so much. A little too much. He wasn’t dreaming to stress.
He relaxed when he saw how happily Kibra received his gift after class.
“Are you sure about giving this to me?” he gasped, caressing the individual chains of silver. His fingers found their way to the ring. “Is this gold?”
“Yep.”
“Woah, I can’t take this,” he said, dangling the chain and the ring, his eyes never leaving the gleaming metal. “This would cost a lot.”
“You let me stay over,” Shaden said. “Think of it as my gratitude.”
“Are you sure?” Kibra giggled, wrapping his hands around the jewelry. “I can keep it?”
“Yes.”
“No going back on your word?”
“Never. It’s yours now,” Shaden confirmed, putting his hands back. “Do you like it?”
“Of course I like it,” Kibra laughed, bringing his face closer to the ring. “I never had something like this before.”
Shaden smiled. “Is it better than your plants?”
“Well, they’re different things,” Kibra answered without hesitation, already putting the chain around his neck, letting the ring dangle on his chest. “How does it look? Does it make me look rich?”
“Not really. You should probably keep it under your shirt since someone might steal it.”
“Well, there aren’t robbers here, but yeah, it’s not good to show off,” Kibra agreed, tucking it inside. “Wow, thank you. So, want to go meet the Farmer tomorrow?”
“I’m actually leaving tomorrow,” Shaden told him. “I’m going back to Antafar.”
“Oh, what!” Kibra exclaimed. “So soon?”
“Yeah. My ride arrived.”
“That’s not good,” Kibra frowned, crossing his arms. “I mean, I’m happy for you. But, I don’t know. Maybe you could stay for a while longer?”
As much as he liked the guy, Shaden wanted to go home.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he lied.
“Then we’ll have to do as much as we can today,” Kibra decided. “Let’s run. Let’s go!”
They dashed off together while laughing to enjoy their last day together, a moment Shaden guessed would be his last playtime together. The boy would forget him as they grew, and he’d become a small memory in the back of Shaden’s mind.
But for now, he could have fun.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Everyone, including Shaden, had been surprised when General Nohcam personally came to send him off to Antafar. A great crowd had been standing there, mostly normally dressed people who weren’t soldiers, all present to say goodbye to the Green Child—and Shaden had felt something warm bubbling inside of his heart. He’d simply shown off, but to them, he had been a blessing.
Doing good made him feel good. And being praised for being kind was something he could never get enough of. He’d felt more special than ever, maybe even more special than the day the members of the families had stood around him while he merged with his dagger; these people were all out here for him. Thousands of eyes gazing at him, showing their gratitude and wonder.
“Everyone here bears witness to your deeds,” the Lord General had declared. “Go in peace. We will remember your sacrifice for us, Shaden from the Jakhar Kishaks. Of how you came here upon our hunter’s request.”
Strangely, the part where ‘Shaden had killed the prince’s wyvern’ had been left out. Nevertheless, the documents were handed to him as well as gifts of wyvern leather, carved bone, and a new set of boots for him, which Shaden took happily. They were beautiful—scaled black boots with comfortable straps that fit somewhat loosely on his feet. He’d grow into them.
He’d also received a new white cloak, also crafted of wyvern leather.
“White wyverns are a symbol of the gods. May only blessings fill your paths,” the craftsman who’d given it to him had stated.
It was heavier, but that wouldn’t be a problem for him. He loved its design, its delicate patterns, and its texture on his fingers. He’d thanked them, and they’d thanked him back.
Kibra had been watching from the back as they’d said their goodbyes in the morning. Shaden had done one final wave to the boy and had turned around when Kibra had stopped waving back, and they’d finally left for the capital.
He’d thought that the way back to Antafar would be easier than the journey to the Wall. It was shorter by a day, and food and sleeping conditions were significantly better. But time—time was slower than ever, even slower than before. He’d spent hours and hours gazing into the endless dunes of sand and rock, wondering when they’d arrive. The sight of oases was always welcome, and he’d been able to feel his connection with Grak becoming clearer, but those things only served to lengthen the hours. The more he longed to arrive, the more the seconds tortured him.
“But we will arrive,” Teval had assured. “My Master will be very surprised to see you home so soon. I had never seen her worry about someone so much before.”
“Really? They care about me that much?”
“Of course. Even the Elders were distraught upon hearing about your situation.”
“They were?”
“Yes.”
The young man had never shown an ounce of discomfort while they had traveled, always setting up the tent for Shaden since he didn’t know how to do so. Shaden had offered to learn on the second day, and Teval had shown him, but he’d insisted on setting up the tents himself.
“You are a guest,” he’d stated. “We could never let our guests set up their tents and make their meals.”
It was a desert custom Shaden felt slightly overwhelmed by. He could handle himself, but the servants had taken care of everything for him. They’d treated him like the nobles in his history books and rich people who came out on television, even though he was a child. He knew they’d been told to act in such a manner, but what had amazed him was how complaisantly they acted. It wasn’t that they were dumb or brainwashed. It was simply the way of life for them—being someone’s servant. And that baffled him.
It made him have a certain respect for Teval. It was just so easy to be around him. He could tell why Shaya had sent him here to look out for him.
They’d talked a lot along the way, ranging from their childhoods to games they’d played and places they’d gone to. And Shaden had discovered that Teval was of low birth, born to a slave mother and father who he barely remembered.
“I was very fortunate to have Master Shaya take care of me,” he’d said with a bright smile. “She took me in when I was eight. I still remember that day. I was dragging a bag of wheat across the earth when she pointed at me and picked me out. Oh, how my heart thundered.”
Shaden could tell their relationship went beyond the simple master-servant balance, and by the dreamy way the young man had talked about her, he decided not to ask further. It had been a little embarrassing to hear Teval’s eloquent descriptions of the older woman. Yes, she was beautiful, but learning about what oil she used to keep her skin soft had been a little too much. They’d moved onto unromantic things afterwards.
And finally, after an eternity of staring into sandy plains, he’d spotted the capital city on the horizon.
“There it is!” he whooped, throwing his arms into the air. “We’re finally here!”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Teval laughed, giving his back a light smack. “Now, let’s give the prince his document and be on our way.”
“Yes. I’m finally free again,” Shaden agreed.
He just had to endure a little longer until they reached the gates.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Hmm.”
The guards looked at each other, unsure of what to do until finally, one of them went to fetch his superior. Shaden could afford to wait a little longer, but he couldn’t stop his anticipation. He circulated to keep his emotions under control.
The reply came sooner than he’d expected.
“Ahem. Order, order! This is the royal decree of His Majesty the Second Prince,” the messenger announced, unrolling a scroll of paper with a seal on it. “When the exile has returned, he shall await a second trial in the Court of the Sun Palace to give an account of his ordeal. He shall await with the evidence until His Majesty comes to meet him.”
“Again?” Shaden complained as they were led to the Sun Palace while four soldiers accompanied them. “How long will I have to wait?”
“It can occur today since the sun has only begun going down,” Teval stated cheerfully. “His Majesties rarely make their people wait.”
“Last time we waited two hours.”
“That is very short,” Teval said. “Your first trial occurred on the very day you—” he leaned closer to whisper into Shaden’s ear, “slew the wyvern.”
“Is that how it works?”
“That is how it is.”
“Then let’s hope it happens today,” Shaden sighed, feeling mentally drained.
One of the servants that were traveling with them left after talking with Teval, and when Shaden asked why, he was told it was to let Shaya and the rest know of his arrival. Shaden had wanted to surprise them a little, but he guessed this was fine as well.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t locked inside of a cell this time. He was locked inside, but within a nicer room with a bed. Teval insisted on waiting with him, but since he wasn’t allowed to enter the room, he went ahead and sent the servants on their way while he stayed in front of the entrance and sat there. Shaden could sense him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed while he patiently waited for time to pass.
Going so far for a stranger like him—Shaden was impressed and sorry. It was simply ‘how things were meant to be’ for the young man, but for him, with everything he knew about human rights, he couldn’t help but feel sorry. There were no castes, no servitude where he was from. This was a strange culture, and while he understood it, it rubbed him the wrong way.
But he was grateful.
The trial came very soon, just when the sun was casting scarlet glows across the sky. He was called out of his cell, and Teval appeared before him, sticking to him like a shadow as they made their way to the familiar courtroom where he’d received his sentence. Shaden stood before the elevated seats once more and waited as the room began to be filled with people.
The usual judges were absent from the seats, and the front remained empty as the seats behind him were occupied. Shaden waved when Shaya, Eshel, and Keyga entered the room, and they were smiling broadly. Eshel shook her head in disbelief, Shaya was composed, and Keyga looked bored overall. He seemed to be more focused on the bugs he had on his hand.
Shaden was well-prepared to wait another two hours, but the doors at the front swung open shortly after everyone had settled, causing many to visibly flinch. Six soldiers, all dressed in red and gold with swords strapped to their sides, marched in and positioned themselves at the front.
Prince Salahin strode in, but he did not have his crown on his head. His appearance was messier this time, but the heavy air of authority had not left him, and everyone got up as he walked to the throne and sat down. Only when he waved his hand did everyone take their seats.
“Report, boy,” he said, looking directly at Shaden. His eyes were less wide this time, but they still felt menacing to him. Had he not been circulating, he would have fumbled his words.
“I have finished healing ten thousand people at the Wall,” Shaden stated, bringing the document up. “This is proof of my accomplishment.”
One of the soldiers came down and took the paper from him and handed it to the prince, who inspected it carefully. The room was deadly silent for the next minute, and the only movement was the prince’s eyes that scrutinized the words like twin lasers.
“So you have,” the prince said, handing the paper to a soldier. “You are now free. Enjoy Nafar’s fruits again, and do not cause trouble again.”
“Thank you,” Shaden said half-heartedly. When the Prince waved his hand, Shaden took the signal and went back to where Eshel was.
“Shaya Jakhar Kishak, come forward,” the prince ordered, and Shaya went to where Shaden had been. Shaden sat down next to Eshel who punched him on the shoulder, but the trial was not over yet.
“Do you think I am a fool?”
A terrible chill struck the room, and Eshel’s expression turned into that of horror. Shaden couldn’t see Shaya’s face. He looked around, wondering what had happened.
“I could never think of such a thing, Your Majesty,” Shaya answered, lowering her head. “If you believe what the document—”
“I am not speaking of the document,” the prince growled, tilting his neck. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on top of his knee. “What was my decree? Do you recall it?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Shaya replied, lowering her head further. “It was that until the boy had fulfilled his sentence of healing ten thousand people, not one of the Jakhar Kishaks was to go out of the city.”
“Then who is this man, that he should leave the walls of Antafar?”
Teval. The thought immediately came to Shaden, and he found the man staring at Shaya. His expression was blank.
“He is not one of ours, my lord.”
Shaden couldn’t believe his ears. Shaya had tossed the man away so easily without hesitation. And Teval didn’t even look fazed by it.
“Then why were he and a few others seen emerging from your tents and returning to them again?” the prince questioned.
“They were hired, my lord.”
“Lies. But you are not the one who has left. I am a merciful judge, and I declare that only those who have left the city’s walls shall be punished.”
Shaden held his breath until the prince spoke again.
“To go against the Royal Decree is punishable by death. They will hang today.”
“What? Why?!” Shaden furiously whispered to Eshel. She looked like she was going to cry.
“Be glad it wasn’t us,” she whispered back. “But it will be a blow to our reputation.”
“Reputation? Teval is about to be killed!”
Shaya opened her mouth “Your Majesty, please—”
“Think about your words carefully, woman,” the prince barked. “I’ve already turned a blind eye once.”
Shaya lowered her head, shutting her mouth. The strangest thing was, Teval didn’t even argue as he was being dragged away. Shaden roughly nudged Eshel.
“What? You’re just going to let him die?!”
Eshel shook her head. She turned her head away. Shaden looked at Teval.
The young man nodded when their eyes met, then was forced to turn around. The prince got up and the guards moved with him, heading towards the door.
“Stop. Stop!” Shaden roared, and everyone’s eyes fell on him. Shaya’s eyes were filled with fear, and Eshel was moving away from him as if he’d become a ticking time bomb.
The prince narrowed his eyes. But it was a soldier that spoke.
“You would dare to talk to the prince?!” he yelled, putting his hand on his sword. The rest of them did the same, and the prince, without giving him a second glance, resumed his walk towards the exit.
Shaden got up and the soldiers neared him, ready to strike.
“Raise your arms!” the soldier ordered, marching towards him to grab him. “You are under arrest for speaking against—”
Shaden flicked his hand, and the soldier was flung to the side of the room, unconscious. Stretching out an arm, he caught the prince by the head, and everything happened at once.