Page 46 of Crowning of the Sword

“I don’t care about that!” shrieked Cole. “It’s not fair. This can’t be the end. This can’t be …”

He stopped, frowning in thought, and then his expression cleared. “No fae can replace a teammate,” he said, echoing the Adjudicator’s words.

The Adjudicator waited; his eyebrows raised. “And?”

Cole pointed a finger at Ember. “But she can.”

Chapter 37

The hall fell silent. The Adjudicator let out a high-pitched screech that echoed around the room, a hideous approximation of a laugh that sounded more like a cry of pain.

Ember jerked her head back, a wave of disorientation threatening to tip her sideways. “You cannot be serious.” Her voice was a mere croak, and her hands shook. She could smell her own fear, sharp and rank.

“You made the mess,” Cole snapped. “You clean it up.”

The Adjudicator clapped his wrinkled hands together in delight. His red eyes flicked from Cole to Ashe to Ember, and she shrank from his piercing gaze.

“It would fit the rules,” he mused. “And rules are everything.”

He turned to Ashe, who shrugged. “I have no objection.”

One of the Winged Eagles on Ashe’s team cried out, “No!” but was hushed by those nearby.

Ashe looked over at them and lifted his chin. His voice was resonant, defiant. “I don’t want to win my kingdom by default. I don’t want my people questioning whether I have the divine right to rule.”

Cole scowled. “You might not win, you know.”

“With her?” Ashe gave a snort of disbelief. His supporters broke into helpless laughter, and even the Adjudicator smiled.

Ember dropped her gaze to the floor, resentment flooding her. He didn’t have to be so unkind, she thought. He hadn’t even so much as glanced at her since she’d walked into the room. She’d thought he was a friend, a distant, difficult friend, to be sure, but now it seemed he wasn’t anything, just like everyone else.

“My magic will run through her veins!” shouted Cole, and a hush fell over the room. “My power will take this kingdom.”

“Then so it shall be,” said the Adjudicator. He pointed at Ember, and she felt it as though he had stroked a withered finger down her cheek. “You, human, shall take the sprite’s role in the third game.”

Ember’s hand fluttered to her chest, her fingers cold. Her ears were ringing, the exclamations of the fae in the hall echoing and faint.

“Wait,” she said. “Please …”

Nobody listened. The Adjudicator stepped down from the dais, the jurors immediately surrounding him to escort him from the Hall. Ashe’s and Cole’s guards swarmed them both, and they too were hustled away to doors on the opposite sides of the hall. Ashe’s team went next, giving Ember unfriendly glances, except for one sprite who said, “Thanks for getting rid of that stuck-up bitch for us,” and the rest of the team snickered.

A guard grasped Ember’s elbow to haul her off, but a voice stopped him.

“Let her go, you damn fool.” Swirl was at her side, shoving the guard aside with his shoulder. “She’s on the team now. Show her some respect.” The guard bowed and stood aside. Swirl’s brown eyes were kind. “You’d better come with me, girl.”

The gentleness in his voice almost undid her, and she went with him without question, her feet tripping uncertainly on the floorboards, her gut twisting with nausea.

The centaur’s rooms looked more like a stable than a bedroom proper, with great feed bins and a pile of straw, but there was still an enormous bed covered with a luxurious velvet throw, and a lounging area with chairs and a low table for two-legged guests.

A healer was called, and Swirl bade him to massage her to release muscle tension. While the centaur busied himself looking through various papers, the healer stripped her and then treated her to a long, delicious massage that soothed and calmed her body. Her panic and distress soon faded to a resigned acceptance. She was only on the team to make up the numbers. They weren’t expecting miracles from her. And if she were to be killed in the game, so be it. That might give Ashe the advantage he would need to win. If her death might help the kingdom and all the fae who lived there—for she couldn’t see how Cole’s rule would be anything other than a disaster—then that would be a fair price to pay.

When he was done, the healer helped her dress and then Swirl beckoned her to the lounge area. He spread a wide sheet of parchment on the table. “The Junction waterway.”

It was a beautifully drawn map of the area just outside the castle walls, glamoured to make it look as realistic as a three-dimensional model, with tiny birds flying over the forests and little cows grazing in the fields.

Swirl pointed out a river that cut into two routes, each side flowing around an island forest before rejoining on the other side. “The game starts here,” tapping one side of the river. “You swim along here …” he broke off and looked up at her in alarm. “You can swim, can’t you?”

She nodded, and Swirl laughed. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise, it would be the shortest game in history. You swim along here and then you can choose left or right. Each way has its own dangers, not to mention the other team. They’re experienced and armed. Your best hope is to stick with your team and hope they won’t try to take revenge for Lissa’s death. You’ll get a dagger and a spear.”

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