Page 83 of Fae Champion

Then he patted the back of my hands in a muted request to release him. When I did, he offered me a hand up, frowned as he stretched his thighs and calves, and spun toward the viewing balcony without easing his grip on me.

“Oh, ah … ah-ha-ha,” Azariah squeaked at the intensity of Rush’s glare up at the queen. “People, creatures, and beasties of all sizes, ladies and gents of the fae and everything in between, I beg you to behold our winner of the Gladius Probatio, the great drake of Amarantos, Russshhhhh Veeeggggaaaaaa!”

But as unenthusiastic applause made a round across the bleachers, Azariah’s mouth slammed closed and his nostrils flared wider than I’d ever seen them. His large eyes grew until they pushed against lush, extremely long lashes. His throat bobbed wildly.

I was still studying him as Rush, unaware of Azariah’s reaction, yanked me forward to stand beside him, his fingers weaving through mine.

Something as soft and fluffy as thistledown sprinkled onto my cheeks, down across my gaze, and I tilted my face up to behold what looked like a million dazzling snowflakes falling from the clear blue sky. They glimmered in a vast array of colors, a perfect match to the rainbows that adorned the interior walls of the arena. With my free hand, I skimmed a cheek and came away with a smattering of these flakes—soft, airy, beautiful—magical. The shimmering rainfall was in celebration of the winner of the Gladius Probatio, I realized, the queen’s version of confetti.

The crystalline spheres the giant frogs had solemnly held up all these days of ceremony erupted in a blaze of golden light, similar in tone to my glow. First went the one in the center that housed a mockup of Embermere and its royal palace atop a grand hillock. Next, one to either side of it, then the one after, and thenext. When the globes vanished, sparks of light showered the frogs until they, too, vanished in a poof of green power that dwindled like an afterimage … before fading entirely.

Moments later, the royal orchestra ran out onto the field, hauling large and small cases, in three coordinating lines, servants bringing up the rear carrying seats for the performers. No sooner were the chairs set in place for them than the musicians sat and hurried to unveil their instruments. Undoubtedly, they were on the queen’s unreasonable timetable.

Dozens of dancers, these dressed not in silver, sexy, lacy unmentionables, but in white, loose, gauzy outfits that oscillated with the cloud cover that ebbed across their slippered feet, glided into the arena. The gossamer floated around them as if on its own breeze. They diverged into two groups as they swept around us, the diminutive fairies finally flying away, carrying their rope between them, and when I turned to watch, I once more noticed Azariah?—

Who appeared to be choking, gasping and trying to suck in air—like a fish out of water.

“Azariah?” I said.

Rush and the remaining eyeballs whipped around to face the unisus.

“Azariah?” Rush repeated sharply. “Are you all right?”

The unisus shook his head, his usually downy mane limp against his long, regal neck. His eyes bulgedas he wheezed; the air he pulled in through open mouth and nose seemed insufficient.

Freeing my hand from Rush’s, I marched over to him. “What can we do to help?”

Azariah pawed at the ground, dispersing wispy, happy mist.

“Is it a spell doing this?” Rush asked.

Azariah nodded, fright shining across his dark eyes. My chest tightened as my hands fluttered around his body, unsure what to do.

“A direct spell on you?” Rush followed up, far calmer than I felt. “Or the spell of the Fae Heir Trials?”

At the second question, Azariah bobbed his head so eagerly that he finally drew the attention of the nearest dancers, who abandoned formation to surround the magical creature while the orchestra tuned its instruments.

Rush stepped closer, blocking out the onlookers. “Is it because you announced me as winner when the magic’s telling you it’s a tie?”

My heart stuttered in my throat, where the desperation to aid Azariah lodged.

Fervently, Azariah pawed at the ground some more. A thin tendril of air whistled through nostrils wide enough to pull in big gulps of it.

“Will it work if I announce us equal champions?” Rush asked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Azariah again shook his head, his movements sharp jerks at first, then wobbly, as if he were moments fromcollapsing.

You fucking bitch, I sneered in my mind, before adjusting to utter aloud, “Your Majesty, Azariah will die if he doesn’t honor the magic of the trials and announce Rush and me winners.”

The dancers looked from me to the unisus to the viewing balcony, as if wondering how I could be addressing the queen without raising my voice.

“No,” came the reply, startling the fae in airy pale gossamer. The one word pounded a nail into my panic. Azariah tossed his head and reared, pounding heavily onto the earth when he landed, sending a wave of tremors rumbling beneath my feet.

“You’ll let himdie?” I snarled at the nearest ear.

“There are no ties in the trials,” the queen’s voice spat. Most of the curious dancers returned to their positions, smart enough to value self-preservation.

Azariah’s eyes rolled upward, and he stumbled. Rush raced forward to prop him up, but the unisus had to weigh ten times what the warrior did.

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