Page 20 of Fae Champion

With that bitter thought, I tossed and turned until the sky beyond my window was already beginning to lighten, and sleep claimed me at long last.

6.IF I WENT, AT LEAST I’D GO WITH A STELLAR VIEW

Today was the most crucial day of my life so far, and what I’d do with it wasn’t of my own choosing. So little had been since Dougal delivered me to the royals of Embermere. None of the many thousands of hours of my purposeful training were sufficient to prepare me for this fight when my opponent could use magic, skills I didn’t doubt he possessed.

Lennox’s gang of bullies was dwindling, as was the number of competitors remaining in the Gladius Probatio. I faced one of them now, and though he was armed to the teeth as I was, he hadn’t drawn a single weapon.

Which could only mean he didn’t need one, for he had a tool at his disposal that was far more powerful.

It had been just the day before that the ground had opened to swallow men whole, yet there was no sign of that ominous, swirling pit. However, the pretense of the opening days of the Fae Heir Trials was absent. The ground was flat and bare dirt. No artifice to disguisethe fact that here fae came to fight for an unworthy queen and perhaps to die.

The woman had surely instructed my opponent, a viscount of one of the clans I hadn’t registered, too focused on what I might need to do to survive, to kill me. To take off my head and free her from the inconvenience of my existence before anyone else had a chance to discover I was a direct descendant of a monarch.

That I might indeed be a champion of the fae after all. If I chose to be… If only I survived this match and whatever followed…

When Pru first came to get me this morning, I’d been groggy and sluggish from a lack of restful sleep. Now, tension fluttered throughout my body, making me so alert that I pushed away the distractions with ease.

If the stands had been packed before, fae were crowded into the bleachers now so that there was barely a sliver of space between them. With their increased numbers, they were even more vocal, crying out for violence and retribution—though it was no longer clear whom they were asking to be punished. Every shout of support for me—and there were several—was swiftly silenced. Still, more came, a smattering of evidence that rebellion brewed within the fae of the mirror world. Their discontent crossed the lines of social classes and clans.

I tuned it all out as much as possible.

Even Rush, whom I hadn’t had the chance to speak with before royal guards shoved me into the fighting arena. I felt his stare on me but didn’t look. I hadto hope there’d be a chance for looking later. An opportunity to explore whatever it was that brewed between us.

If the queen believed slinging me into the ring without time to adjust to my situation would unsettle me, she was wrong. The fight already thrummed through my veins. Zako had taught me to thrive when faced with the unanticipated. “Routine is the death of sharpness,” he’d said. No one instance of his training had been like another, and he’d delighted at throwing new obstacles at me when I might least expect them.

The viscount bully was taller and brawnier than the other two men I’d fought. Like every other contestant, he was fit and muscled. With a large head and square jaw, he looked as if he might snack on glass in his spare time.

Even so, that kind of expertise, strength, and edge? That, I could handle. Zako and Xeno, my only regular sparring partners, were highly skilled fighters. They defendeddragons, the most ferocious beasts in existence. The men had to be tough.

But magic … how did I defend against that?

Something had happened to me when I’d been well on my way to dying yesterday and I’d collapsed onto the ground. But what? I felt little different from before, though I had healed faster than usual. The wound from when Lennox stabbed me was a slim line of shiny new pink flesh. In twenty-four hours, I’d recovered entirely from a lethal injury.

Ihadbeen dying. I’d felt it down to the marrow of my bones. And yet here I was, as strong as ever. Atingling sped across the entirety of my body, lending me hope that the land’s power might come to my aid again.

Zako had taught me better: “Don’t count on anything outside of yourself to save you. The only one you can count on is you.” Regardless, I couldn’t help but lean into an inkling of hope.

The unisus Azariah was announcing the start of the match, and while he spoke I glanced up at the royal balcony despite my resolve not to. Behind repaired glass, the queen sat on her throne, the dragon head footstool noticeably absent. Those cold eyes of hers were pinned on me. A step behind her, on his own throne, my father was also looking at me. Ivar, Braque, Dashiell, and some courtiers busied themselves beyond the monarchs.

I zeroed in on her eyes alone. I registered the murder in them, smiled at her though I didn’t truly feel the arrogance I was portraying, and felt grim satisfaction when she scowled at my false confidence.

Azariah was winding down his introduction to the bout, so I returned my attention to the man opposite me. His muscles already bulged with his intent, though he still hadn’t picked up a weapon.

“Elowyn,” Rush whisper-shouted from the dugout.

I ignored him. Now wasn’t the time. It would have been nice to confer with him before my match, but the queen had ensured that wouldn’t happen.

Another time, he called my name.

Teeth gritting, I risked a glance his way. He wassurrounded by Hiroshi, West, Ryder, and Roan, all of whom wore a similar severe, concerned expression as he.

“Selwin’s magic stuns you.”

Selwin growled. “Mind your own damn fucking business, Vega.”

“Elowyn is my business,” Rush snapped before addressing me again, now more urgently. The match was mere seconds away from starting. “He throws small bursts, but if they touch you anywhere, you’ll be down long enough for him to kill you.”

“Shut it,” Selwin snarled, “or I’ll do to you what I’m gonna do to her.”

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