"All those who passed the trial remain in the courtyard." The King announces. "Everyone else, leave."

At the King's announcement, the contestants on the left begin to shuffle towards the gates, their postures deflated with disappointment. The rest of us on the right glance at each other, wondering what's coming next.

The King ignores our glances and steps down from his dais, striding towards the carved doors of the castle from which he came. He's first followed by the Chiefs and then the other esteemed guests in a similar order as they appeared. The doors remain open after they're gone and a few seconds after the last person walks through them, groups of men carry tables and seats into the empty hall.

I heard in the past life that after the second trial, a feast was held amongst the victors. The feast, in typical Northern fashion, was held in the same room as the battle, so victors had to eat while watching the blood on the floor and dealing with the aftermath of the struggle. If anyone died during the trial their bodies were also left there and the living had to eat amongst the dead.

It was another test of mettle, to see if they could stomach what they'd done in the heat of battle.

I glance as the seats are arranged around the large oak tables. They're most likely preparing for the feast, as they did in my past life, but I'm not sure what they're testing this time. There was no bloodshed today, no glory of battle. No internal struggle over our vicious deeds.

Also, by my count, there are far more victors than there were in the first life.

To what end?

King Drogo has always been a staunch proponent of only allowing the best warriors to advance to the next level. Each year, the elite hopefuls are put through multiple rounds of fighting, to identify the strongest and most resilient, and get rid of anyone but. Even with the numbers of Elite graduants decreasing each year, King Drogo never shifted from that stance.

"My father wants only the best," Caster would say. "Even if that best is one person. One strong warrior, he thinks, is far better than ten mediocre ones."

And while I agree with Caster's evaluation of the King, what just happened completely goes against that drive.

How exactly did that test we just had prove our strength?

It didn't. It only proved our willingness to give speeches and practically beg for our place as Elite Soldiers. The King merely identified the best grovelers. It felt like a waste of a trial.

And King Drogo, for all his faults, was not a wasteful man.

What was the point of all that? Simply to sift out undesirables like me? But that doesn't make sense, because since I'm still here. And so are a few other undesirables.

I have a sneaking suspicion that something else is transpiring, something I might not be seeing yet.

There are currently about five dozen of us sitting in the hall. it's unprecedented that there are this many at this stage. Did that mean that there will be more trials to cut down the number? Or will the next trials be even tougher?

At this point, I'm not sure about anything anymore so I need to be on alert.

After the table is set up, we all shuffle into seats. For some reason, Genya and Caster are seated right opposite me, with Brute on Genya's right.

I'm sandwiched between Wolf on one side, and Jace on the other. Savannah is sitting two people away from Wolf, and she's talking to another girl with short black hair.

The seating arrangement makes for a very tense atmosphere, so much so that even as the food is carted out – Turkey, roasted duck, some fresh bread, the aroma of which makes my stomach grumble – I don't look forward to the meal. I can't imagine it will be easy to enjoy eating while being stared at by the three of them.

“Is it true?” Caster asks as one server places a roast duck in front of him. He doesn't even try to pretend he isn't addressing the question to me.

“Is what true, Your Highness?” I ask with a polite deference that makes Caster even less pleased. “Oh, you meant about me being a Seer?"

“Yes,” he said.

“It’s true,” I lie. “It occurred exactly as I told the King. And once again, I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior. And to you as well, Genya.”

“To me?” Genya says in that threateningly soft tone. “What would you ever have to apologize to me for?”

“For coveting what was yours," I tell her. “Like I told the King, I never should have clung to the Prince when he was never mine to begin with. And believe me I have learned my lesson and have seen the error of my ways. I wish the both of you well.”

Genya's smile is so smooth, it's nearly impossible to see the burning in her gaze. “That’s lovely of you to say that.’

“I mean every word of it,” I say and I think perhaps I should have auditioned as an actress rather than a dancer. Because this really is easier than I thought it would be. “I saw a bright future for you two, something no one should ever come between.”

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At least that part is true. After I left the village in my third life, I learned that Genya and Caster do have a good relationship and bear a son who wields fire.

Of course, that's before the Pangeans came and razed everything to the ground.

"What has gotten into you?" Caster looks nearly ill at my words, but I don't respond, keeping my eyes on Genya. But she ignores me. She's turned to Wolf now, eyeing him from underneath her lashes.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Wolf,” she murmurs in a secretive tone.

Instantly, my head snaps to Wolf.

Wolf is eyeing the meat in front of him and nods vaguely at whatever Genya says. Then he turns to the server, who is about to leave after delivering more food. "Is there going to be more?"

The server squeaks a response that I don't catch because I'm too busy staring at Wolf, willing him to look back at me.

“The two of you have met?" Caster asks Genya and the question rings in my ears. I can't lie I'm dying to know the answer myself. I want to know why Genya talks to him so intimately and looks at him so desperately like she wants to chain him up somewhere.

The thought of that has anger surging to life…well, anger and something else.

"Yes," Genya says, relishing in our discontent. "On one of my travels outside the Village, I fell into some trouble with bandits. Wolf was passing by and luckily chose to stop and lend me aid."

“How nice of him." Like me, Caster is also staring at Wolf now, daring him to look up, but Wolf is more interested in the food. He's the first one amongst us, who reaches forward and rips off the bird's legs, tearing off a chunk of that with his teeth and nodding his approval as he chews.

“He was very brave,” Genya continues as we watch Wolf eat. “He took on about a dozen of those bandits by himself, and didn't even seem winded."

“Of course,” Caster says through gritted teeth. “I suppose I owe you for saving my betrothed's life.’

Wolf only acknowledges them with only a grunt, before he reaches forward and rips off the other leg of the turkey, dropping that one in my plate.

"Eat," he orders before going back to his food.

I observe as the smile slip off Genya’s face.

I can't hide my grin as I lift the meat to my lips, savoring the delicacy. The turkey leg is undoubtedly one of the best things I've ever eaten. To think that a year ago in this timeline, I never would have thought I would get the chance to ever eat something like this, juicy and spiced to perfection. Although, I don't know if the meal is actually that delicious, or I'm simply relishing the sour look on Genya's face, my appetite returns full fold and I devour the turkey leg in seconds.

Caster glares at me as he cuts meat for himself and some for Genya as well.

Only after he does the rest of the table start reaching for food.

Then we eat in companionable silence.

Eventually, Wolf reaches and grabs the plate of bread, dishing two rolls each in both my plate and his.

"Thank you." I say. After I swallow the meat, I lift the roll and take a bite out of one, and while I enjoy the meal, for some reason I can't help but think back to the meat broth Wolf made. I must be going crazy, because I think I may actually prefer that meal to this.

Yes, you definitely are crazy, Adria.

But I can't help but think that the simpler flavor and texture of Wolf's meals somehow made it feel homier, more welcoming than this. This one is more elaborate and almost excessively decadent meal reminds me of something you would serve a loved one when they were soon to die.

Which I suppose is how they see us now.

I manage to get a few more bites in before, by mere coincidence, I catch Brute's gaze. For once he's not glaring or sneering at me. He gives me a considering look, whose meaning I'm unable to decipher.

I'm not entirely sure I care what he's thinking though to be honest, although I probably should, if only to stay off his bad side.

We're mostly silent as we eat, except for Jace who practically moans around a mouth-full of bread rolls. "This is the best thing I've eaten in my entire life."

Everyone glances at him with derision – in Accacia, it's considered bad manners to talk with food in your mouth – which makes me feel bad for Jace, enough to chime in,

“It’s definitely tasty. Right, Wolf?"

I don't think Wolf will answer, but to my surprise, he winks at me.

I furrow my eyebrows at him. Did he do that intentionally? Or did his eye simply twitch?

"So,” Genya’s voice was unusually loud, and once again, I wonder what she's doing here. She's not elite hopeful. Does being the Prince's betrothed give her some special designation that I'm unaware of?

The smile on her face is pinched around the edges as she says,” How did the two of you make acquaintance?” She waggles her finger between me and Wolf to further exemplify who she's talking about.

Wolf and I share a look. I realize how difficult it will be to explain how we met and began to work together. I didn't come up with a story for that either, because I didn't think anyone would ask.

I raise my eyebrow at Wolf for help, then remember that expecting Wolf to give someone an explanation for anything is like waiting for sunshine in the winter.

“It’s complicated,” I say at the same time as Wolf shocking says, “She saved my life.”

I look at him. Not only because he actually said something, but also because where did he get that story from?

“She saved you?" Caster asks. “From what.”

He looks Caster in the eye and says, "A bear."

Someone down the table snorts. Caster's eyes narrow.

"Wait, I thought there are no bears in the North," Jace says leaning over to whisper loudly. "Not after the third war."

Wolf shrugs. "It looked like a bear. A really big one. And she fought it off me. I could have died."

I gape at him. Nothing about that story makes sense, not the fact that the bear was in the North, or that I somehow managed to fight a creature that could kill Wolf.

Wolf is either a terrible liar, or he's mocking the prince.

The story is so ridiculous that no one over the age of five could possibly believe it.

Yet, Jace, for whatever reason, shoots me an admiring look.

"Wow,” he says without the slightest trace of mockery. "So Wolf saved Caster's betrothed and then was saved by Caster's ex. It seems like fate really worked things out for the two of you." He lifts his glass of water and loudly announces, "Let's hear it for our fated mates!"

His loud declaration is met with mostly silence and a few sour looks.

A few people chuckle and Savannah says, "Pipe down Jace. You're not the only one in the room."

Jace blushes sheepishly. "Right. Sorry."

Caster coughs and Genya gives Jace a look like he's something at the bottom of her shoe.

And then, a loud sound echoes across the courtyard hall as the castle doors are thrown open once more.

A tall slender man walks onto the grass, his hair slicked back on his scalp, his eyes shrewd and unforgiving. He's wearing a purple smock with rich wool thrown in swathes over his chest. The collar climbs up to the edge of his chin, and the sleeves go all the way down to his wrists. Even his breeches have an excessive flare at the bottom, for added style marking him as a true noble who can afford the excess fabric.

I instantly lose my good mood and my appetite.

In fact, I want to vomit.

I know him. Oh God, do I know him.

The smiles in the same sadistic way he always does, and says,

"I’m hoping you enjoyed your meals because it might be the last you have for a while." He stands tall and laces his hands behind his back. "Welcome to your third trial."