The King Trials 2: Beyond.

My eyes snap open, and I slap a hand on my mouth.

I wake to see only black. My eyes adjust to night time vision, everything devoured by the darkness of night. A startled scream perishes in my mouth and I lower my hand. With much effort, I shimmy up to a marginal upright position. Sounds of varying snores saturate the atmosphere, the temperatures bitten by the cold teeth of stratospheric air.

I glance at my one side to see a slumbering Solaris, and on my other side to Vince with his one arm hanging out.

I need air. Fresh air and lots of it.

Shifting, scrambling and struggling, I climb out of the hammock and land softly on my feet. I pick up one of the blankets and swathe it around my shoulders, wrapping it around me, the ends reaching my ankles. Fully enveloped, I weave through snoring hung Herems. I exit the cabin, travelling down the shadowy corridor, the only thing to stave off the gloom are the torches on the wall blazing firelight.

Shortly, I emerge on the primary balcony.

I inhale in a long, deep breath. All the way up here in the starry sky, though it is chilly, the air is crisp and fresh like the very breath of God fills the aether. I amble to the peak; the semi-circle part of the balcony and I settle my folded arms on the railing.

A waxing crescent moon crowned at the apex of the celestial firmament, sailing the seas of glowing asters, a multitude of pinpricks of light, bright and brilliant. I peruse below, the moving silhouettes of crew members buzzing around the Skydeck.

My eyes arrow straight to Primus Kelan standing before the railing. His armour-less frame soaks in the silver tinted beams of moonlight, his posture rigid, arms of iron bound to his chest.

I turn and stalk the staircase leading down to the Skydeck. I reach the last stair and my feet meet with the grimy, dirt-coated wood. Unfazed, I advance towards him. A tumult of emotions renders me baffled. Every step closer to him I feel every qualm. Residuals of distress and fright are banished by his sheer presence. But my nerves rattle even more than before, my heart throbbing with a familiar unease.

Silently, I sidle his flank, standing to be right at his side. A calm breath seeps through my lips, the tightness in my chest eases, and my shoulders slump from the liberated weight.

In my periphery, I can see him looking down at me. Observing me wordlessly before he turns his gaze beyond and allows the silence to prevail for a little while longer.

And that is well with me. Being in his presence is comforting enough.

“You should not be here.”

Well, that was not the greeting I was expecting.

“You should be resting; you need as much sleep as you can garner. We have a grueling trek ahead of us and you suffered grave wounds. You need to rest.” His voice is one of midnight, like a rumble of thunder that billows across a night sky.

Cold sensations irritate my nose, I sniff and draw my blanket higher so it shelters my neck. “Thanks to the Games, I will bear a lifetime of scars,” I say dryly. More emotional than physical. “My wounds have scabbed and have healed properly; you would know that if you asked me before. If you visited me before.”

“I was occupied with military affairs,” he says to the moon. “I am sure you were well entertained by the company of others.”

An exasperated breath blasts through my nostrils. “I do not care for the company of others when I only desire to be in yours,” I say colourlessly.

He looks back at me. Night clinging to twilight.

It aggravates me how he has mastered his expression, ciphering it to be unreadable. “Do you question my words?”

A shadow flickers in his eyes. “Words are valueless, actions speak the truth.”

It must be the midnight fatigue because that made no sense to me. “Then what part of my truth do you question?”

His mouth parts, but he pauses for a millisecond, a certain doubt flitting through his own eyes before he seals his lips and sets his gaze ahead. “The part where I fail to believe that you comprehend the severity of phase two, only made more difficult since we have to travel by foot. When I say you need to rest, you need to rest.”

I never realized how taut my face was until how I feel it unstiffening now. “I cannot help but feel that your insistence on me resting is derived from something else.”

He glances at me askance like my company only bears him annoyance. “It is dangerous to make assumptions,” he says as a conclusion. He removes himself from side and walks away brusquely.

I am so puzzled, it’s even lost on me to call after him. I watch dumbstruck as his frame dissolves into the gloom.