Last in line, Ember clenched her fists as a beam of white light fell toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with trepidation for the agony and ecstasy of Cole’s power flowing through her. Unlike the other beam, it hesitated just before it hit her, a hesitation that was long enough for her to crack an eye quizzically to see it poised, like a snake about to strike. In a rush, as though it had finally made up its mind, it dived into her, cleaving aside flesh, blood, muscle, bone, to strike at her heart.

And in that moment, she felt … nothing.

Not a damn thing.

Cole had no power over her. He might hurt her physically, but he didn’t control her mind or her heart. The notion was thrilling. She arched her back and let out a cry that sounded like the others, but unlike the others, hers was a cry of triumph and release. She was free.

Almost.

As one with the others, she dived into the churning waters. Her team immediately banked left with the current, and she followed them. Ashe’s team had gone right, against the flow, and she wondered why. Perhaps the ease of travelling with the water made for more danger ahead.

Tangles of weed carpeted the riverbed, and it was impossible to tell how deep the river was. The rush of the water was cool and sweet and there were a confused couple of moments when she automatically held her breath. Tentatively, she sucked in a gulp of water that fizzled through her gills, and then she was swimming properly, shooting through the water like a seal. Glee rose within her as the water both surrounded and infiltrated her. She was water. She could swim like this forever, she thought, wild and free, and —

A streak of fire whizzed past her leg, and she let out a yelp that was nothing but aggrieved bubbles. Two scylla swimming up from the watery jungle of plants below were attempting to cut her from off the main group. They swam on either side, trying to steer her toward the bank, and one aimed a green stick at her, a streak of fire shooting from its tip.

She ducked, and the fire shot harmlessly over her head. She swam faster, catching up with the water sprites in her team and gesturing wildly toward the danger. Only one turned; the others ignored her. The one who had taken heed of Ember’s warning drew her dagger and slashed, spilling green scylla blood.

Ember drew her spear, and to her surprise, found it moved through the water with no drag at all. It acted as if it would in the open air. She thrust, skewering the remaining scylla in the throat, and it fell away. The water sprite gave her a congratulatory look, and they both swam on.

A yawning chasm showed black ahead, and as the group made to swim over it, a crowd of beings erupted from the depths, all flowing hair and sharp teeth and dark skin wrapped in rough shark leather. Two grabbed one of Ember’s teammates and hauled him, kicking and thrashing, into the maw. Another slashed at a sprite, and blood erupted forth. The creature bit into the sprite’s neck and chewed, the lifeless head falling sideways. The water was churning with limbs, weapons, and blood. It was hard to see. Ember felt a grab at her arm, and she blindly jabbed with her dagger. The creature clutched at the gaping wound, and another sprite swam in and finished her.

As the current pulled them relentlessly forward, the beings fell back, seemingly disinclined to leave the safety of the abyss.

The team was smaller now, and they swam on in a pack, Ember at the heart of them. She had proved herself, and there was strength in numbers.

The water churned ahead, a fizzing and bubbling, as the river joined that of the other side. The group moved toward the bank, to put as much distance as they could between theirs and Ashe’s team, a wise course of action as the rivers converged and another group of five sprites swam into view.

Neither seemed inclined to engage the others in a fight, and it became a race. Ember pulled through the water as best she could, but even with the gills that Cole gifted her, she couldn’t swim as swiftly as her teammates, and fell behind.

The water sprite she had earlier warned of the scyllas fell back with her, urging her on. Ember valiantly tried, but she was becoming weary, her arms and legs straining with effort.

Suddenly there was a wild agitation in the water ahead, a swirling froth of bubbles overcoming the swimmers. Through the maelstrom there came the gleam of silver scales, and the flick of an enormous tail. Immense fish with rows of pointed teeth were darting and diving amongst the sprites, tearing at flesh, gulping dismembered limbs whole. Blood clouded the water.

Ember and her teammate paused in horror and moved swiftly toward the bank, skirting the massacre. Another from Ashe’s team had escaped the slaughter and was trailing in their wake, but she was swimming with one arm, the other broken and dangling.

With nothing impeding their way, Ember and the sprite swam on until they could see thick bands of gold streaming through the water, showing them the end. They rose to the surface, suffused in light.

Ember crawled up onto the bank. Her legs could hardly support her, and she lay there for a moment or two, until her single remaining teammate helped her to her feet. She could still hear the drumming of water in her ears, and it took her a moment to realise that the sound was cheering on all sides, cheering for her, cheering for the team, and cheering for Cole.

He emerged from the pavilion, a guard on either side to steady him. As always after a competition, his face was pale, and he was weak. But he had strength enough to push the guards aside and stand on his own, his face suffused with an unholy joy. “The Kingdom of Swords is mine!”

Ember cast a glance across the river, to where Ashe’s supporters stood. They were clapping too, but it was automatic and half-hearted, and several were weeping. Some expected to die, others to be demoted from their free status to that of servants. Cole wasn’t known for his mercy.

Cole spoke a few words to the water sprite next to her, who blushed coquettishly and made a graceful curtsey, and then he turned to Ember, taking her chilly hands in his. “Thank you, my darling. Thank you for this.”

He kissed the back of one hand, and then the other, and she closed her eyes.

The Sword would be crowned, the wrong cousin chosen, and it was all her doing.

Chapter 39

All the fae of the castle would be at the crowning ceremony, with many more coming in from the surrounding countryside. The fae from the visiting kingdoms had made their departures as soon as they could, not wanting to be caught in a kingdom of Cole’s making, all too aware of his elemental, capricious, and fickle nature.

The Seeds had left presents of precious medicines, inks, and intoxicants, all distilled from rare jungle flora. The Sands had likewise left gifts: gold dust that could be fashioned into statues with a single blown breath, and valuable panels of marble lace. The Skies and Stones however, had left without so much as a word, clearly demonstrating their disdain for the new ruler.

In her rooms, Ember was being made up and dressed. She had tried to escape the ceremonies, to avoid seeing the look of condemnation in Ashe’s eyes, or the wild triumph in Cole’s, but it was impossible. Everyone would want to see the human who had helped her lover become ruler. Everyone would want to see what Cole did with her next.

To regain some measure of control, she had refused to wear the elaborate gown Mira prepared, all ribbons and ruffles and glittering sequins, saying she had no wish to draw attention from His Highness, the Sword-in-waiting. Instead, she had asked for something simple. Mira had conceded, providing a simple sheath in midnight blue that left one shoulder exposed, and a slit that showed the length of her thigh. It was still elegant but gave Ember much more freedom of movement.