So after much deliberation, I feel it’s only right to hear your case.”
“That’s because you’re kind and merciful, Your Highness.”
“Speak,” the Sovereign said. “Tell me your reasons. Why do you choose to abandon my Daughter?”
Garrick raised his chin. “Your Highness, I have served in The Savior’s army for ten years. I came to the Sovereign’s Tournament thinking perhaps my place was beside your Daughter instead of behind the shield. But the longer I stay here, the more I realize I’ve made a grave mistake.” He stepped forward, his once-cowering frame tall. “Your Highness, I am meant to wear a helmet, not a crown. My true crime isn’t abandoning this tournament, it is abandoning my duty to protect the realm. That is how I’m meant to serve Her. I see that now unequivocally.”
“Fucking liar,” Flynn muttered.
The Sovereign tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne. “Your aim is to serve the realm at your greatest capacity. As a soldier.”
“Yes, Your Highness. As the leader of Her army, you of all people can understand the importance of my service.”
“It’s very noble of you to sacrifice the crown to return to a life of service.”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the good of Thessen,” Garrick said. “And to be honest, I don’t think your Daughter will miss my presence. I’ve yet to win any time alone in Her company. I by no means attempt to speak for Her, but I don’t believe She favors me.”
“And who do you think She favors?”
“Your blessed ones, of course. The Shepherd and the Dragon.”
The audience roared, chanting the two laurels in unison.
Garrick hesitated. “And possibly the Artist as well.”
The cheering shot higher, the people stirred into a frenzy. “ARTIST. ARTIST.” The Sovereign’s face dropped.
“Silence, everyone, please,” Wembleton shouted.
The Sovereign waited for the chanting to subside. “So, Brave, you leave this tournament, not as an affront to my Daughter, but to return to your rightful position in Her army. You see that She doesn’t favor you, and you believe you’re of better service as a soldier than as Champion. Is this correct?”
Garrick nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Sound reasons.”
“Good God, can you believe it?” Flynn said. “He’s going to release him.”
“Quiet,” Tobias whispered.
“You mentioned my blessed ones earlier.” The Sovereign cocked his head at the other competitors. “They stand behind you, you know.”
Garrick said nothing, though his muscles tightened.
“The Dragon,” the Sovereign continued. “Do you fear him?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you afraid of the Dragon, Brave?”
“I fear no one, Your Highness.”
“He’s killed two men in this tournament. One of those kills occurred just the other day. He’s fought diligently for the crown and for my Daughter.” The Sovereign leaned forward. “You know this, yet still you don’t fear him. Is that right?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then why is it you demanded to leave this tournament just after the Dragon put an end to the Bear? After he challenged you, publicly? Why did so many report to me that after he called your name, you came running to the palace like a little bitch?”
Gasps sounded from the pews, and Garrick curled his hands into fists. “Lies, Your Highness. All lies.”
“You lie, Brave. You leave to protect your hide, not for the service and glory of Thessen.”
“Your Highness—”
“I gave the Dragon my blessing for a reason. Because I knew he was capable of exposing cowards like you.”
The tension in the arena was ablaze, filling the space with heat. Leila. Every inch of her body was rigid, steadily seething where she stood.
“People of Thessen, I am a hard and stern Sovereign, but I am not without warmth. To these men, I have offered shelter. Council. Camaraderie.” The Sovereign gazed down at the men in question. “I welcome you into my home. Treat you as royal guests. As sons. Yet still, I am betrayed.”
The Sovereign’s glare passed over Tobias, burning through his flesh.
“As for my Daughter? She is my world, just as Her Mother was before Her. Her Mother, slaughtered in the street. Killed by a man with no regard for Her rule.” He scanned the pews. “You all know what I do to those who cross me. Who cross The Savior. That traitor was tortured for your approval. I carved his blasphemous tongue from the back of his throat myself. For The Savior. For Thessen.”
The audience howled, spilling with a formidable, infectious anger.
“Now my Daughter stands before you of age, free to select a husband, and it is my duty to ensure Her choice is fit for this throne. Throughout this tournament, challenge after challenge,