Tourney At Harrenhal Novels & Stories

Wolves abandoned by Crescent had nowhere else to go, and Hale gave them purpose again. He entered the clearing where they waited. A few lifted their heads at his approach, their eyes gleaming in the gloom. Scarred, hungry, restless—they were not the polished soldiers Crescent trained, but Hale preferred them this way. The castoffs, the ones who had nothing to lose. The ones who could be shaped into something Crescent would not see coming. “Report,” he ordered. Jorah, his second, stepped forward. A tall brute with a twisted scar along his jaw, Jorah bowed his head slightly. “The scouts confirm movement along the eastern path. Cael has taken to watching Liora closely. He suspects.”

Nole says encouraging Burk to fire up the crowd with a good performance. I raise my eyebrows and almost nod, Nole's right. The Harvest Tournament is supposed to be uplifting and unifying for all of us. The war has taken so much from everyone extending our fights against the common beasts is the least we can do for the crowd. They paid good money to be here and when we encounter these beasts in the wild it is difficult to win against them. At the tournament we have advantages, but the watching females don't know that. We can act as if the fights are difficult for them.

I can't help but fear for the mortal, even though the dear Goddess will not abandon him, his body is not used to this kind of combat. A few minutes later, the battle warden entered through a door and stood in the center, bowing to the kings and queens who were present. "Greetings to the cherished and respected queens and kings of the various kingdoms; we will now witness a private tournament to win the hand of the adored princess Vreihya Amely Zecillion!" the warden's loud droning signaled the start of the duel, which increased my uneasiness.

We went unnoticed, somewhat faded into the background of the normal hustle and bustle. The conversation with Killian went down as I’d expected. Like a fucking lead balloon. He had not been pleased with the turn of events but thankfully he’d agreed with my plans and was sending down five of his best fighters to help rig this twisted tournament if it came to that. On top of that he was sending down some more of his people to aid in the search. It was established that the tournament going ahead needed to be avoided, but in the event that Tel’annas hadn’t been found it wouldn’t get past the first round.

He looked at her face. "You memorized the bloodline hierarchy for tonight," he said. She stopped two feet from him. "How do you know that?" "Because you're not nervous." He held her gaze. "Which means you prepared until the nerves had nowhere to stand." Nora said nothing for a moment, because that was accurate in a way she didn't particularly want to confirm out loud. "The Harlow bloodline," she said instead. "Third rank. They have a treaty dispute with Vael that's been unresolved for sixty years. Do I acknowledge it or not if it comes up?"

After freshening up and having breakfast, he went to the Chorteaus' hall with his group. Rourie and other Chorteau elders awaited Severin's arrival, and Rourie was still a little rueful that Severin had rejected Kiyu's proposal. However, he knew that dwelling on the past was of no use whatsoever, and the focus had to be placed on the tournament. Rourie took a deep breath and informed Severin, "Based on the information I received, there will be five participants each from the Gahrrs and Lischalts and about eight others from the other families. All are level nine royal saint attainment."

Why will I be the only Omega in a party that not even the Betas could attend? “Tyrion, can’t you do something?” He shook his head. “I can't since I won't be there—” I inhaled that scent again. This time, my wolf whimpered. I glanced around, hoping to sight anyone else except for Kisey and Cirilla that were discussing at the side…but I felt the presence of nobody again. As I raised my brows to look at Tyrion, our gaze met.

If he just said he's going to give it to me I wouldn't have wasted my ink. "First, I'm going to discuss details about the incoming tournament," Laurent started, scribbling yet another word on the board. "Last time it was held on the Winter Land, an area in the Wizardry Region, and now it will be held on the Mystic Forest found in the Wings Region." "But Professor," Flynn's voice was heard, making me turn in his direction. I couldn't help but still be amazed at his green eyes. "I thought the Claw hasn't formed a permanent alliance yet with the Wings Region. How come we could hold the Tournament in there?"

“Convergence, bridge of realms, you seek the blade. Prove your worth, or perish.” My wings unfurl, lunar light flaring, but the construct’s gaze pierces me, and the forge shifts. I’m no longer in the citadel—I’m in a Conclave chamber, centuries ago, Elara’s lunar mark glowing, her voice pleading. “Don’t trust Taryn,” she says, her amber-silver eyes meeting Jorah’s. “His Veilbinder pact with Voren will doom us.” Jorah’s aura, primal and steady, falters as Taryn steps from the shadows, his blade striking Elara’s heart. She falls, silver blood pooling, and Jorah roars, claws slashing, but Taryn’s shadows overwhelm him. I scream, my claws slashing air, but it’s a vision, a memory, and the constr

I immediately ran back to Alpha Tyrion who took us to the quiet corner. He read everything to me aloud and then even described the points clearly. The challenge was called **The Hunt**. It was a test of strength, speed, strategy, and teamwork. Each couple had to track down and capture a wild beast in the forest, using only their natural abilities and a pair of silver daggers. The beast could be any creature, from a wolf to a bear, but it had to be alive and unharmed when brought back to the castle. The first 10 couple to return with their prize would win the challenge and earn a point for the heir selection.