When Selma realized she was alone, her chest seized and her body froze. Suddenly, all the joyful noise that surrounded her welled together in a hellish cacophony, piercing her ears, until all she could focus on was the rushing thrum of blood in her veins. She didn't understand this feeling, the tightness inside her, but as soon as she felt the tears well in her eyes, she knew she couldn't stay there any longer. She retreated, slipping through the crowd with the desperation of a caged animal. She needed to get somewhere — anywhere that wasn't crowded. Her chest tightened and her breaths became heavy and fast, as though she might faint. She breathed through her mouth, telling herself one thing over and over.
I just need to get out of here.
Soon, Selma broke through the crowd with more force than she'd used in her life. Somewhere behind her she thought she heard a man yell 'hey!' but she continued moving forward as fast as her thin legs would carry her. Her vision was dazed and she struggled to keep hold of herself as she moved. She just concentrated on her breathing, steadying it to the best of her ability, though it refused to calm. She turned a corner, and before she knew what had happened, she found herself face down on the cobblestone, dirt and sand plastering itself to her face. She looked back and realized she'd clumsily tripped on a sleeping civilian.
But he did not awaken, and so she kept on until she found herself practically flying down stone stairs that led to the beach.
Only then did sound come back to her.
She could hear her own sobs through heaving breaths and the way her chest caught on every cry. She wrapped her arms around herself and let her body crumble into the sand. Selma sat there for a long time, allowing herself to cling to this strange, upsetting feeling that overflowed from her core. This feeling started out of nowhere and came on just as quickly as she was able to describe it — like she shouldn't be happy. Like she shouldn't be in Avelle, working for the Starblessed. Even though she understood why she shouldn't feel this way — why she deserved to be in Avelle — this nagging, illogical feeling tugged at her heart.
She inhaled deeply over and over, whispering to herself, pleading for it to stop. And after some time, her body calmed, replaced by the constant, repetitive sound of the waves crashing softly into the shoreline. Selma wiped the last tears from her face, surely red and puffy now as she gazed into the dark ocean before her. Each wave came in a gentle push, rustling the bioluminescence in the water.
"I didn't know crying could feel so exhausting," she whispered to herself. She gazed into the water for a long time, allowing her mind a moment's rest. Whatever she'd just experienced was like an emotional overload in her brain, exhausting her rational mind and keeping it prisoner inside her. "I should go back," she said again with a sigh, "but I really don't want to."
If she went back, that meant being around all those people. For a time, she had fun. But now, Selma just wanted to crawl into bed and drift off to sleep. But on the other hand, if she waited much longer, she might have to explain why she was gone. And coming up with a story that made sense was more trouble than it was worth.
Selma decided to sit for just a moment longer, until her spirit felt truly rested. When she extended her toes, letting the sand fall between them, she realized she'd lost her shoes somewhere behind her. She giggled to herself at the idea.
And then, something illuminated beneath the surface of the water, swimming faster than she'd seen before. But gone from her sight just as quickly, as though it had never happened.
But her mind didn't play tricks on her.
She saw something — something big.
She was sure of it.
Selma's eyes lit up, and her mind snapped to attention. In a matter of seconds, she filtered through all the information she could remember on bioluminescence, on the aquatic flora and fauna of Avelle. There were so many possibilities, but whatever moved was so large, there was no way it could have moved without disturbing the surface of the water — it was too shallow here.
And then, Selma heard a voice somewhere behind her.
"We should leave them alone, Hayden."
Instantly, Selma's attention turned toward the voice.
Another prince candidate? She thought. And when she spotted them, she realized it wasn't one prince candidate but three. Hayden, Elio and Antonio? What are they doing here?
"No," Hayden replied, his voice dry and aggressive. "We're stuck sleeping in some dirty tavern for two nights because he's supposed to get his chance with the princesses but here, he is having the night of his life! If that skinny blonde twink thinks he can parade around town at night looking for who knows what, he's got another thing coming."
And just like that, his words set Selma's heart ablaze. She'd heard the rumors about Ariel — everyone had. There were many reasons why the king and queen might be dismayed that Ariel might like men, but as far as Selma was concerned, there was no reason anyone else should be concerned with it. And even though she and Ariel weren't close, he was Princess Maren's closest friend, and Maren was hers. And to Selma, that was enough.
I can't stay here any longer, she thought. I can't let him go after Ariel.
***
"Fine," Ariel sighed, giving in to Lexi, "just one drink."
"What's this about a drink?" A voice said from behind them. Ariel blinked and before he knew it, three of the other prince candidates stood at the end of the far side of the table. Hayden stood closest, with Elio and Antonio behind him. Elio stood with his arms crossed, his gaze distant and uninterested. Antonio slouched at his right, his hands shoved in his pockets, averting his eyes as if he were uncomfortable with the confrontation. But Hayden's gaze simply dropped with trouble. "Mind if we join?"
"Yes, actually we do mind," Lexi replied, unraveling her arm from around Ariel's shoulders. Her voice instantly turned to ice in his presence. And her energy? Ariel shivered beside her.
It was simply overwhelming.
But he didn't blame his friend. Hayden's behavior at the Academy was notoriously atrocious — especially for someone who was only a distant relative to the Valentynes of Garyn. But he must have meant enough to them to cover for him. Hayden was a bully in every sense of the word. He made every day hard for the lords and ladies of lesser class and practically tortured the scholarship students for sport. But because he was always just careful enough, and came from a good family, he never suffered any real consequences. But Ariel knew that Lexi's true ire came from his behavior at her announcement as a Prince Candidate in Forsyth.
Ariel smirked at the idea of it — pity the fool who gets between Lexi and her one true love.
"Is something funny," Hayden asked, his voice laced with venom as he added the word, "twink?"
Ariel flinched. His fingers quivered and his chest tightened. He knew he should say something to get this asshole off his back, but the word surprised him. Ariel ranked far higher than him. Hayden never had the cojones to come after him like this.
So why now?
What spurned this sudden vitriol toward him?
But Ariel didn't have time to think.
The moment the word exited Hayden's foul mouth, Valen slammed his cup so hard on the table, the entire outdoor area of the pub was brought to a silence. Suddenly, all eyes were on them. Valen stood, his presence — his massive build — looming over them like an angry bear of legend. Ariel's gaze slid over to Hayden, and he swore he saw him swallow.
"That's enough," Valen growled as he peered down at Hayden, his voice low and firm. "Save it for the trial." His eyes washed over Hayden like he was analyzing his competition — like he was disappointed. "You'll need it."
There was a pause in Hayden's reaction. He stood there, wide-eyed and hesitant. Then he spoke. "Watch yourself, Theros. You know damn well that if I lose the trials, your pretty little sister will be marrying into my family."
Then—WHOOSH!
Valen was on him in less than a second. Ariel didn't even blink before Valen's sword was pressed into Hayden's throat, his fingers gripping him by the hair, yanking his head back, exposing his neck.
"Over my dead body she will," Valen growled, his mouth pulled back in a human-like snarl.
And suddenly, Ariel remembered that Valen wasn't just some big, quiet, lovable addition to their group. He was the oldest and the only one who'd had actual experience in war.