Second Trial: Test of Skill
The councilman stepped forward once more, his voice echoing across the courtyard.
"A queen must have a noble skill to bring pride to the kingdom. It is not enough to possess wisdom—she must also display a talent befitting her station, something that will elevate her among rulers."
The remaining nine contestants stepped forward, their faces poised but tense.
One by one, they showcased their talents.
Lady Vivienne of House Lockhart stepped forward first, her voice rich and steady as she began to sing. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, her notes soaring through the grand hall like a nightingale in flight.
The court murmured in appreciation.
Next, Lady Celeste of House Montclair performed a dance, each movement a display of refined elegance. She twirled, her feet barely touching the ground, yet every step commanded attention.
A few lords applauded, charmed by her grace.
Then came Lady Kate of House Roove, who seated herself at a beautiful harp and played a melody so perfect, so melancholic, that some in the court closed their eyes to savor it.
More performances followed— amazing calligraphy, beautiful embroidery, more musical instruments.
Each display was perfect and regal, everything a Queen was expected to be.
Then came Selene.
She did not sit at an instrument. She did not dance. She did not bow before the court or make any attempt to charm them.
Instead, she walked with confidence to the center of the court yard, where a long table was set. Atop it rested a wooden bow and a single quiver of arrows.
A confused murmur spread through the audience.
"Archery?" one of the noblewomen whispered, irritated.
"How crude," another muttered.
The council members exchanged skeptical glances.
Selene ignored them.
She picked up the bow with ease, testing the string with a practiced hand. Then, she turned to the court and spoke—not loudly, but with the kind of voice that demanded attention.
"A Queen should not only inspire with art and song. She should be able to defend her people if the need arises."
Before anyone could respond, she lifted the bow and notched an arrow.
Her emerald eyes locked onto the target at the far end of the courtyard—a wooden disc no bigger than a coin, swinging from a golden thread.
A moving target.
The difficulty was undeniable.
Some of the ladies murmured. Even some of the men in the hall—seasoned warriors—leaned forward in their seats, watching with interest.
Selene exhaled slowly.
She did not hesitate.
She released the arrow.
It whistled through the air before striking the wooden target dead center.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—
The wooden disc split in two.
The room erupted into gasps.
Even those who had looked down on her before now leaned forward in their seats, eyes wide.
The council exchanged murmurs of disbelief. Some looked unsettled, others begrudgingly impressed.
Selene simply lowered the bow and turned back toward them, her expression unreadable.
Then, she lifted another arrow.
The murmur in the hall grew louder.
"Surely, that was enough—" someone whispered.
Selene ignored them.
Before anyone could react, Selene lifted her bow once more.
This time, she didn't aim for the distant target.
She turned—her emerald gaze locking onto Ronan.
The King.
The murmur in the hall swelled into an uproar.
The council members shot to their feet. Some of the noblewomen gasped aloud, clutching their pearls. Even the seasoned warriors in the room tensed, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons.
Travis took a sharp step forward, a frown settling on his face.
"What is she doing—?"
Before he could finish, Selene released the arrow.
It whistled through the air, slicing through the tension like a blade—
And struck.
Inches from the King.
A sharp thud echoed as the arrow impaled the wooden armrest of Ronan's throne, so close to his hand that he could feel the air shift as it passed.
For a moment—no one breathed.
The King's guards lunged forward, swords drawn. The council erupted into furious shouts, their faces red with outrage.
"She could have injured the King!" one of them roared.
"This is an act of treason!" another bellowed.
Travis' jaw tightened, his fingers flexing toward the hilt of his blade. He had expected boldness from her—but not this.
"She must be expelled from the Games immediately!" an elder councilman demanded, his voice trembling with fury.
Yet, in the midst of the chaos, there was only one person who did not react.
Ronan.
The King had not even flinched.
Not when the arrow had flown, not when it had embedded itself just inches from his hand.
He simply sat there.
Watching her.
A slow, knowing smile curled on his lips.
Intriguing.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he leaned back against his throne, his fingers casually tracing the arrow's shaft.
"That was an impressive shot." His voice was smooth, unbothered.
The entire courtyard stilled.
Ronan glanced around at the furious council members, the stunned noblewomen, the wide-eyed guards still gripping their weapons.
Then, with a quiet chuckle, he flicked his gaze back to Selene.
"Everyone can sit back down," he said lazily, his smirk deepening. "We can all agree how remarkable the shot was."
A tense silence hung in the air.
The council members exchange shocked looks but none dared challenge him. The guards hesitated before slowly sheathing their swords.
Selene?
She met his gaze.
Unapologetic. Unshaken.
Then, without a word, she turned and walked back to her place—not once looking back.
The second trial was over.
Three more contestants were eliminated.
Selene?
She still remained.
But while she stood tall and composed, the rest of the room still reeling from what had just happened.
Travis was among them.
The easy smirk he usually wore was gone, replaced with something colder—something uneasy. He leaned toward Ronan, keeping his voice low but urgent.
"As much as I admire her audacity, you do realize she crossed a dangerous line." His eyes moved to the arrow still lodged in the throne. Too close. "If she wanted to, she could have killed you."
Ronan didn't even spare him a glance.
Instead, he plucked the arrow from the wood, turning it between his fingers. Examining it. Amused.
"But she didn't."
Travis' jaw tightened.
That wasn't the point.
His gaze flickered back to Selene, now sitting effortlessly among the remaining contestants as if she hadn't just sent the entire hall into chaos.
Suspicion coiled in his gut.
What noble family trained their daughters in archery—to that level of skill?
His eyes narrowed.
She looked nothing like the supposed uncle and aunt she had arrived with. Their smiles were all polished, their presence commanding, but there was no shared resemblance—no true blood connection.
Travis clenched his jaw.
He had overlooked her before.
That had been a mistake.