Page 47 of Crowning of the Sword

To her shame, she thought she might burst into tears. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

Swirl patted her shoulder with a heavy hand. “None of this is your fault. You’re the innocent. Lissa got what was coming. And no matter who wins, the little people, us, we’ll just carry on, living our lives, trying to stay out of their way. The real danger will come once the Sword is crowned. I hear the Seeds are discontent. They want to extend their territories.”

His words washed over her, but she was too busy studying the map to pay him much mind. The only thing that mattered to her right now was getting through the game. “Would you choose left, or right?”

“Me? Neither. I hate the water. But don’t worry too much. When His Highness fills you with his power, you won’t feel like you anymore. You’ll be … better. Your senses will be heightened, your reactions quicker, stronger.”

“What does it feel like?”

“As though you have molten lightning running through your veins.”

He called for two guards to escort her back to her rooms and gave her a warm hug as she left, which gave her comfort.

It surprised her to find that the hallways were clear. There were no unexpected skittering sounds, no gnashing of teeth from the shadows, and she wondered if Cole’s temper had finally dissipated or if this was a courtesy extended only to members of his team.

She opened the door of her bedchamber, expecting Mira to be alone, but there was Cole pacing back and forth, and Mira herself standing with her forehead pressed to the wall, her wings wrapped around her as though to cocoon her from harm.

“Finally,” he said, disagreeably. “I hope you know I’m very displeased.”

Ember wasn’t sure what to say. One wrong word could spark another tantrum, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with that, so she said nothing.

“Did Swirl show you the course?”

She nodded. Cole came to her and took her hands. “Listen, my darling. You have been very naughty, but I understand most of it wasn’t your fault. Lissa was always volatile. Many disliked her. I wasn’t aware that the castle disliked her, too. Fancy choosing a human over …” he broke off and took a deep breath. “But if you win this, if we win this, you will be rewarded, I promise.”

“And if I lose?”

“You’ll be dead,” he told her. “And then it won’t matter.”

He ran a hand down her cheek and she, so pathetically grateful for a kind touch that she leaned into him and closed her eyes. He brushed her lips with the lightest of caresses. “Sleep, my dear. The Adjudicator has announced the game is to be brought forward. We compete tomorrow.”

He left then, and Ember only just managed to stagger to her bed before her knees gave out. Mira was with her in seconds, plumping the pillows and smoothing the covers. She took out a lilac sleeping rose from her pocket, and Ember gratefully inhaled the intoxicating fragrance. She fell back against the pillows and didn’t wake until morning.

Chapter 38

Ember kept her head down as the guards escorted her past the spectators and to the pavilion. There was no wine and a soft cushion for her this time, no little treats and music, no gossip and laughter filling the air. The fae supporting Cole were done with frivolity, and the weight of their disapproval was almost tangible. This game was too important.

In stark contrast, Ashe’s team on the other side of the river were enjoying themselves as much as ever. Music and laughter drifted on the breeze, and sparkles streaked high above the dark pavilion, like fireworks. Tiny boats, festooned with flowers, and only large enough for two, were sailing merrily back and forth, although the fae aboard were careful not to drift over the midway point into Cole’s territory.

She passed the other water sprites on her team, all aloof creatures, so devastated at losing their captain and teammate Lissa that they could barely look at her, let alone speak to her. She had the idea that they thought they could win just as well as without her, and they left her strictly alone.

The guards escorted her to the throne where Cole waited, his bearing ramrod straight, the familiar cloud around him pulsing with energy, crackling, and hissing. The events of the day before seemed to have galvanised him. He was in fighting form, at the peak of his abilities, and he had conjured a power that was awe-inspiring.

The air was cool around her, and she, clad in a sleek white swimsuit that looked as if sewn from fish-scales, shivered as little bumps stood up on her arms. But the closer she drew to Cole, the warmer the air became until she stood bathed in heat, not that of a comforting fireplace on a chilly winter’s day, but as though she were about to be burned.

Cole made a sharp gesture, and she gasped in shock, hands fluttering up to her neck to find gaping wounds. He had slashed her across the throat. She tore her fingers away, expecting to see blood, but there was nothing, and after the initial cutting sensation, she felt absolutely no pain at all.

“Gills,” said Cole, watching her tentatively exploring her throat. “You’ll be underwater a time. Your team will support you. Stay close.”

Ember was fairly sure they’d do no such thing. If the scylla in the water didn’t kill her, she could bet that one of her teammates might, just to avenge Lissa. She was on her own.

He closed his eyes, which she took for dismissal, and the guards took her away.

She and her team of water sprites marched out onto the riverbank and waited for the gong, stretching, limbering up legs and arms. Someone thrust a dagger into the belt at her side, and Swirl, shouldering aside the fae clustered all around, brought her a light spear, tipped with a deadly glittering point.

He strapped it into a holster at her back, although how she would use it when she was in the water, she had no idea.

The gong sounded, a thundering crash that first silenced the watching fae, and then as the reverberations faded, they burst into cheers. Threads of white arced overhead, criss-crossing through the air and striking the water sprites in the chest, one by one. The fae gasped and moaned as Cole’s power hit them, arching their backs, their faces contorted.

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