The participants were locked in their rooms, strictly forbidden from leaving, while I, as Blair's guard, had to keep a constant watch outside her quarters. Though "constant" isn't quite the right word—I'm utterly exhausted. Moreover, it irritates me how waiting by the door is becoming a habit.
Like a guard dog.
Maybe that Bitchy Blair was right. Now I truly am her personal dog, and the days when I dreamed of becoming the commander of the guard will soon fade from my memory like mist at dawn.
Leaning against the door, I close my eyes for a moment. Just then, the door suddenly swings open, nearly sending me tumbling. I straighten up, trying to regain my balance and maintain a semblance of dignity. There stands Blair herself, her icy gaze piercing me like a dagger.
"Were you planning to sleep here?" Her voice cuts through the silence.
"No, Miss Blair," I reply, feeling a wave of irritation rising inside me. "As always, I'm guarding your peace."
She rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth twitch in what might be a smile."When will I be released?"
"I have no idea."
"Damn, I've been here for all day."
I want to say the other participants are too, but I swallow the remark and instead ask,"Do you need anything, Miss Blair?"
She throws up her hands, revealing the height of her anger.
"I need to get out of this damned room!"
"Unfortunately, that's not possible," I say in an even tone, hoping she won't take out all her frustration on me. "Probably you'd like something special for dinner?"
"For dinner I want..." she pretends to think, and I'm already anticipating another snide remark. "To go back to my old life."
"What do you miss the most? Is this room not as comfortable as your real quarters?"
Blair scrunches her small nose, sighs heavily, and disappears back into the room, slamming the door.
I can't help but smile and take a step to the side, hoping to lean against the wall and, if I'm lucky, catch a nap. However, after a while, she throws open the door again. For the second time.
"I need something from my real room"
I smirk, lean in, and whisper, "Miss Archer, I'm not even allowed to speak with you. All I can do is guard you until further orders from the king."
"What do I care?" She crosses her arms, "You serve my father, so do something."
She gives me a contemptuous look, narrowing her eyes."There must be some use for you!"
It's funny how this princess hopes to hurt me, though I've heard plenty of insults in my life. Useless is practically a compliment.
"Miss Archer, I can arrange an excellent dinner for you. That's all, unfortunately."
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. I never imagined that staying in luxurious royal quarters could be so unbearable. Surely, the magnificent tapestries, soft bed, and fragrant soap must be ruining her life.
"Fine," she finally nods. "Alright."
Her hand is ready to slam the door right in my face, but I manage to ask with a slight smile in my voice,"So, what about dinner, Miss Archer?"
She leaves a narrow gap in the doorway, through which I can see just one of her brown eyes."Go to The Plague, Brian."
Then the door slams shut, and I find myself smiling.This girl is so spoiled and used to obedience that it brings me immense satisfaction to deny her something. Although, in reality, she wields more power than I could ever hope to have.
And that infuriates me to no end.
Ignorance irritates me.
Father said the Trials this year would be a tougher challenge than he anticipated because the future Enforcer is among the participants. These Trials are an opportunity for the king to demonstrate his power and authority. The Enforcer is his personal executioner, a lethal weapon against any disobedience. To defeat the prince is to challenge the king himself. So, I must lose.
I haven't left my room in two days. We participants have been placed in a separate wing with identical rooms, and each of us has been assigned a guard. It's hard to believe that even Kai has to live under the watchful eyes of the Guards who obeyed his every word just yesterday. But, on the other hand, I'm glad that at least in this respect we are on equal footing.
To avoid being consumed by anxious thoughts, I've been killing time by reading a book about shipbuilding. I doubt this knowledge will ever come in handy, but at least now I have a rough idea of what to do if the mast on my ship breaks. Yesterday, out of sheer stubbornness, I specifically requested pasta in chicken broth for dinner. These funny cheese dumplings, shaped like old-fashioned men's hats, have never appealed to me. For an entire hour, I lifted them out of the bowl with telekinesis and caught them in my mouth right out of the air. This activity helped to brighten the evening, even though I was actually dying of boredom.
I never thought I'd miss Sadie so much. It seems I'd give my soul for the chance to lie on the carpet with her and eat sweets brought from the palace kitchen. She would certainly cheer me up with gossip.
Overwhelmed by inactivity, I decide I need to occupy myself with something, or I'll go insane. My gaze falls on the furniture in the room, and it dawns on me: why not use this time to practice my Tele?
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the nearest chair. I first imagine it lifting into the air and then slowly moving to the opposite wall. It wobbles slightly but obediently follows my thoughts. I feel a pleasant tension in my temples, as if electricity is coursing through my veins.
I lower the chair and take a pause to contemplate my actions. This activity truly helps to divert my mind from anxious thoughts, requiring complete concentration. Moving on to the next item, I choose the small table by the window. Lifting it demands more effort, yet I'm beginning to find my rhythm. The table hovers slowly in the air, then gently descends beside the bed.
For a while, I forget everything, immersed in this peculiar yet captivating pursuit. The armchair floats above the floor, shifting its position at my command. The mirror pivots and settles in another corner of the room, reflecting my focused gaze and faint smile.
The satisfaction of controlling these objects stirs a sense of fulfillment and light euphoria within me. I feel a surge of adrenaline, which manifests as inexplicable delight. I chuckle foolishly and extend my hand towards the wardrobe. Power surges within me, and I allow it to command my mind and body. The heavy wardrobe lifts above the parquet floor; I attempt to move it with the force of my thoughts.
I am powerful. I am nearly invincible.
You must lose to the prince in a way that assures him of his absolute victory.
The wardrobe crashes to the floor with a deafening thud.
I freeze, inhaling deeply through my nose.
The suspended silence in the room is shattered by the sound of the door swinging open. I turn and see Brian. His dark blue hair is slightly tousled, and his expression is tense and focused, framed by a white mask that obscures half of his face. A ray of sunlight touches his eyes, revealing their different colors: one blue, the other green, like the mossy surface of a forest.
"Miss Archer?" he calls out, scanning the surroundings. His voice cuts sharply, like a taut string.
I can't help but smirk at his readiness for battle. He's indeed well-prepared physically: muscles taut, movements precise and swift, akin to a predator. Excellent reaction.
But, of course, I have no intention of telling him that.
I fold my arms across my chest and step out from behind the corner, maintaining a mocking gaze upon him.
"Oh, my guard dog decided to show its teeth?" my voice drips with sarcasm.
Brian frowns, surveying the room and noticing that some pieces of furniture are in new positions. His tension eases slightly, but wariness remains. He squints slightly, as if trying to discern something that eludes his attention.
"You used Tele?" he asks, though it's more of a statement than a question. His voice turns colder, as if he's trying to conceal his unease behind a stern facade.
"Yes," I nod, relishing his reaction. "Is that a problem?"
"If there's something you dislike about the current setup, you should have told me so that I..."
"Are you a Brute?" I interrupt, suddenly realizing I have no idea which class of Elite his ability belongs to. Father must have chosen him as my bodyguard for his exceptional strength.
Brian frowns even more, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's holding back a smile.
"No, but I could have Brutes brought to you, and they would rearrange the furniture as you command."
I hold out my palm, signaling him to stop talking. My hand trembles after using my power, but I try not to show it.
"And who are you?" I struggle to mask the genuine curiosity in my voice. "Maybe a Volt?"
His mismatched eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips, revealing pristine teeth. He looks like a predatory cat, ready to pounce.
"Oh, so your father didn't tell you?" Brian's tone is just as caustic as mine was a few minutes ago. "Well, I guess you'll have to ask him... or figure it out yourself."
I roll my eyes, feeling my heart start to beat faster, as it always does when I'm confronted with something unknown and beyond my control.
"Well, Mister Mystery, shall we play a guessing game?" I tilt my head, pretending to seriously consider the options. "Are you a Crawler? Or maybe a Gust?"
Brian smiles, clearly savoring the moment. This smile does nothing to soften the sharpness of his features; instead, it brings a lightning-like glint to his eyes. His gaze pierces through me, sending a shiver down my spine.
" Probably someday you'll manage," his voice is filled with irony, sounding like a melody in which every note is a mockery. "But I'm afraid today is not that day."
"Of course," I snort, turning my back to him to hide my frustration. "Keep your little secrets."
I hear the sound of his steps, firm and confident, and the creak of the closing door. The sound echoes through the room, like a final chord. Silence falls again, but now it doesn't feel as empty. It carries the echoes of our conversation, the play of shadows and light left by his presence.
I run my fingers along the edge of the table, feeling the cold wood, and try with all my might to push away the memories of my recent failure with telekinesis. It's a struggle, but I manage. Nonetheless, this day will not be like the previous one.
Now I have a new little goal for the evening — to unravel the mystery named Brian.