Page 11 of Fae Champion

“Elowyn,” Rush called ahead.

Slowly, so slowly that it took us a full half minute, I turned with Braque in front of me, my back eventuallyto the pit, which was still eagerly consuming everything in its path from the opposite direction. What was left of Russet was gone now too.

“You’re also betraying my queen?” Braque asked, tone sharp with condemnation. “I told her she never should’ve trusted you, that you’d betray your family along with her.”

Rush’s nostrils flared subtly before he reined in his reaction. “I’m not betraying the queen.” He met my questioning stare. “I’m not betraying anyone. We’re to escort you to the dungeon.”

“Oh really,” I said. “And why would I agree to let you lock me up in the damn dungeon? It doesn’t sound like a fun place to be.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Braque piped up happily.

Rush sighed so that his shoulders visibly rose and fell. “The queen doesn’t think you’ll hurt me.” He glanced behind him at the others. “Or them.” His neck flushed, and he offered me what looked like chagrin.

I pursed my lips. Damn him. Damnher. She was right.

Jaw hard, I eked out, “I can’t let Braque go.” I tipped my head behind me. “He’ll turn whatever this magic is on me.”

“Of course I will,” Braque said, once more giddy now that he thought the tides were turning. “You won’t make it twenty steps toward the dungeons.”

“Then I should slit your throat right now.”

He stiffened, his bravado fluttering like leaves on thewind.

As if he wished he didn’t have to, Rush eventually said, “Don’t. He won’t kill you. Isn’t that right, Braque? If your life’s no longer under threat, the magic of the Fae Heir Trials won’t permit you to kill a contestant outside the parameters of the matches.”

When Braque sniffed and didn’t respond, I knew Rush was right.

“I still don’t trust him,” I said.

“Who would?” Ryder asked, but Hiroshi was the one to flick his fingers in Braque’s direction.

Once, twice, thrice—and Braque shortened by a few inches and squawked.

What the…? Was he a…? Did he now have some ...chickenparts?

Stretching my neck back to better examine him, I studied Braque’s new fowl legs. His stockings pooled around his shiny shoes, and his britches hung loosely from his usual pot belly to gape around his now spindly, knobby legs. A hard beak stretched from his nose to his chin around his otherwise normal face.

I lowered my knife but kept it at my side. “What in the dragonfire…?”

Hiroshi, his lavender hair whipping behind him in the current churning the air, shrugged. “Now you don’t have to worry about him casting any of his spells.”

“Hmmm. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Braque’s eyes were comically wide as he patted where his mouth should have been. “Quawk, quawk,” he said.

I wished I were in the mood to laugh. But too many had died today for nothing. And I had no idea how to contain the gaping hole of destruction or the queen’s seemingly endless wrath.

“We have to go,” Rush urged.

“What about this?” I gestured with my chin toward the pit, dragging the grass all the way from the edges of the dugout into its toothless jaws.

“Ivar will handle it.”

I glanced back at the slender man who was picking his way toward us with frequent looks at me. I couldn’t decide whether he was nervous about being near me now that I’d threatened his pal or whether he just wanted to wring my neck for daring to insult his precious monarch.

He bared his teeth at me.

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