“Do you normally talk to yourself, Vicious?” I countered, but I felt the thread tighten painfully as I called him what the others did. “You don’t like that name. Do you?”
“You can call me whatever you like, Your Majesty. Except for ‘Blah, blah, blah’。”
“Don’t be an asshole, Zyion. I’m asking you a question. If you and I are linked, I prefer we know what the other likes to be called.”
“Just call me ‘daddy’， mommy.” Sarcasm had dripped from his tone.
“As if I’d call you my daddy?” I countered with a deepening frown, sliding my regard to where he stood, bathed in shadows, observing me from within them. “Oh, daddy! I’m a very bad girl. Come spank me,” I teased, but it came out in a rasped tone. Zyion pushed off the post he’d leaned against and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“You are right. Probably shouldn’t call me that moments before I’m to request your colors, vicious princess. I can’t wait to see what you’re like as our queen,” he purred roughly.
“My colors?” I questioned, turning to find Griffon watching Aden talking to three women. Three women were making asses out of themselves, vying for his attention, but he was too focused on me to notice. It felt as if he’d been staring at me, trying to get my attention for some time.
“The strands of fabric you hold. Your colors. You hand them to whichever knight you wish to honor with them. They tell the crowd which warrior to cheer for.”
“Why wouldn’t they choose that themselves?”
“It’s a tradition. Don’t worry, Aria. I don’t actually expect you to give me yours. The last one to honor me with her colors was your grandmother, but I failed her. Aden would be the better choice to offer your colors to. He’s an honorable knight and favored by your kingdom.” There was a heaviness in the way he’d spoken about Scylla that had my stomach dropping. If he and I had this strange connection, did he have the same with her? Was their relationship more than queen and guard? Before I could ask, Aden began making his way toward where Griffon and I sat.
“Aden will be honored to accept your colors, daughter,” he said with a stern look on his face.
Esme and Eva chose that moment to sit beside me, which made me frown. They’d both vanished after my embarrassing outburst, which Zyion and Ember had forced me into. Their departure made me wonder why they did so.
“They’re not part of the royal bloodline. You are. Unless you’re directly in line for the throne, you have to come in from the back of the dais. You have much to learn. It’s a good thing you have me, since those who were supposed to teach you don’t seem to be doing so.” Zyion was moving up the left of the dais while Aden climbed the other. The beat of my heart picked up with each step closer each man took. “Rise and turn to the left. Offer Aden your colors.”
I stood as instructed, turning toward Aden, who looked at me with excitement. His stare slid over my shoulder, then returned to my face with a smugness that irked me.
“My princess, would you honor me with your colors?” He asked, before bowing in a flourished move.
“I’d be honored if the princess would honor me with her colors as well.” Repeating his words, Zyion expressed interest, but there was no expectation in his tone.
They both waited for my choice as Griffon cleared his throat, nodding toward Aden as I considered my choice. The moment I turned toward Zyion, a ripple of shocked murmurs moved through the crowd.
“What are you doing?”
“If my grandmother trusted you with her colors, then I will strive to do so as well. Don’t disappoint me, Zyion.”
“You can’t do that!” Aden hissed.
“If you didn’t want me to choose, then you shouldn’t have given me a choice. Personally, I’ve always preferred the underdog.” Stepping closer to Zyion, I grabbed his large, rough, scarred hand and placed the material in his waiting palm. Then I returned to my chair, smirking at the rage simmering in Aden’s eyes. “Good luck, gentlemen.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aria
The crowd remained silent as Aden and Zyion began moving toward the field. My focus remained on Zyion and the incessant tug of the thread that seemed to run between us. I endeavored to calm the thread, to get it to stop its overtly agitated insistence I pay attention to it. I didn’t want to disturb him, not with the mounting intensity of the crowd building. I wasn’t sure what had been between the men, but there was unquestionably bad blood between them.
A man in black robes rose to his feet as Zyion strode straight for him. The man smiled, but whatever he saw on Zyion’s face made his joy falter. He grabbed a silver breastplate with red phoenixes on it and then assisted Zyion into the heavy armor. The gorget that protected his throat and neck was obsidian and had a blood-red cape attached. Once he’d finished adding the arm pieces, he pushed the pauldrons onto his shoulders. Zyion stood to accept the helmet, which covered his entire face in etched silver with a thin slit over the eyes.
Aden’s armor seemed to be for show, since it lacked the thickness of Zyion’s armor. His cape was silver instead of red, which I was certain held some meaning, and his breastplate was as shiny and untried as his helmet with red and white feathers. He was a knight in shining armor who had never seen a true battle.
Overall, Aden’s armor looked more minimal compared to Zyion’s, who exuded a lethal, merciless presence on the field. After both men received their blades, Zyion glanced up at me with a worrisome look churning in his stormy blue depths.
“You should’ve handed Aden your colors, woman.”
My eyes narrowed. “If I’d wanted to hand them to Aden, I’d have done so. I didn’t choose him because, if I am expected to choose the winner of the match before the fight has even begun, I’d choose you. Aden? He’s weak of mind and conviction, and he’s also ruled by his emotions.” The sound he made inside my head was heavy with disapproval, but he didn’t deny my observation. “If it weren’t a choice, you should’ve told me that plainly.” A soft rattle of approval rushed through my mind. “Besides, I don’t have time for men who dance around shit or play word games. If you expect me to discern or read your cues without offering me a reason for your madness, then that’s on you. I don’t intend to sit around here wasting time when Hecate is healing as we speak.”
“I think I prefer your silence rather than listening to you.” My brow creased as he stopped in front of a small dirt circle in the center of the vividly green field. “Do you honestly think your uncles will allow you to walk away from this realm? I assure you it won’t be so easy to leave here. You are the true heir to the throne. No, you’re choosing to ignore the alpha male they tossed at you. They picked him because he’s easily controllable and simple-minded. Do you think they will allow you to live if you don’t do what little girls are told to do? You weren’t supposed to have a mind of your own. They wanted a puppet, one that they could control. You’re ruining their plans.”
“They think I’m a lamb.” Establishing my place above my uncle had done nothing but heighten their scrutiny of me. Let them think I was a delicate, weak-minded thing. It would be their mistake. The last one they made.