Page 42 of Crowning of the Sword

Ember’s heart was still thudding in her chest, her hands clammy. Lissa’s barbs were nothing compared to her relief at discovering that although Cole knew she’d danced with Ashe, he was apparently unaware she’d also begged Ashe to take her away.

“Shouldn’t you be with the rest of your teammates? Cheering them on and whatnot?”

Lissa gave an irritated huff. “I’m sick to the back teeth of all of them. We’ve been in each other’s pockets for weeks, months. After our match is done, I swear I’ll not so much as speak to any of them ever again.”

It amused Ember to see Lissa dropping her guard. Perhaps she and Lissa had reached some kind of understanding. They were both lovers of the prince, and both had suffered under his hand. That gave them something in common. They might even be friends.

“You’re nervous?”

Lissa raised an eyebrow. “How human of you. Fae would never ask that.”

Ember frowned. Perhaps not. “I apologise if I offended.”

“I am …” Lissa paused, thinking, and finally said, “I am eager to be done with the games. Eager to see the back of the Adjudicator and all his little red sycophants. And proud to serve the Sword afterwards. The prince has said I might take on a greater role in his rule.”

“Like … on a council or something?”

Ember wasn’t sure if the Kingdom actually had a council. So far, she’d only seen Cole rule, with everyone else scurrying to do his bidding. His voice was their voice. His whim was their pleasure to serve. A dictatorship.

“Esha isn’t the only world served by the Sword.”

Lissa’s smile was sly, and with a faint incline of her head, she slipped away into the crowd, leaving Ember to wonder what she meant.

The gong sounded with a crash, and the fae roared in anticipation, surging to the front of the pavilion. The white shroud around Cole spread like a blob of watercolours being blown by a straw into spidery lines shooting through the roof and toward the winged fae and their horses.

Everyone was occupied. Everyone was in thrall to the game.

Everyone except Ember.

Chapter 35

The Winged Eagles were like predatory demons, soaring and diving through the air as the riders collected golden apples from the trees. The sky was thick with arrows and one by one, both horses and riders were struck, tumbling helplessly into the ravine below.

There were fights in midair, with horses biting and kicking, their great wings colliding together with great smacking sounds, as the mounted fae slashed at each other with swords. Blood streamed down glossy necks and shining flanks, and apples spilled from the panniers like beads from a broken necklace.

The game went on for what seemed like hours, and eventually Broude fell, two arrows piercing his torso, his horse lifeless from a sword through the neck. Ember’s eyes filled with tears, her throat tight with grief, remembering how they had danced and laughed together, how safe she had felt in his muscular arms.

It was Ashe’s team who was ultimately victorious. The remaining flyers landed on the other side of the valley, horses with heaving sides flecked with sweat, fae bowed with broken wings, surrounded by a web of black that was so thick and viscous, it looked like spilled ink.

A rapturous applause came from their pavilion, the cheers carrying on the breeze across the valley to Cole’s supporters. They stood dumbfounded in their silence, hands covering mouths in shock.

Cole had sagged across the throne, eyes closed, his face white, a tracing of black veins clearly visible under his skin, tracking across his flesh like scribbles from a pen. Fae healers attended him, ordering the guards to get him back to the castle at once. Lissa, hovering nearby, had to be restrained from going with him and in her fury struck a guard across the face. Seeing Ember, she whirled and advanced on her.

“I suppose you’re happy now?”

Ember took a step back. Clearly, the unspoken truce was over.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I feel awful.”

“He needs your support, even if you are on the other side.”

“I’m not, and I know.”

Ember was getting cross now. More than one fae was staring at them curiously, and she had no desire to be accused of being disloyal to the prince. “I’ll do anything for His Highness, you know that,” adding with a faint smile, “but I’m not that good a rider.”

Lissa stared at her and then laughed. “I suppose not. You would have been the first at the bottom of the ravine.” She gnawed at a knuckle and muttered, “After everything he did to become heir and now this. It’s payback. Serafina’s revenge.”

Ember frowned. “What?”

---