Page 82 of Fae Champion

“It was my ancestors from long, long ago, from ourtime in Faerie, governed by the elven monarchs of the Golden Forest, who deemed the Fae Heir Trials the best and fairest way to choose the next successors to the royal thrones when a natural … heir was … absent.”

She paused to swallow thickly enough that I could make out the bobbing of her throat from where I sat in the middle of the arena, unsure where to go, what to do, where I might be safe. Was it an act to garner her subjects’ sympathy? Or was she truly that choked up about the death of her only son, whose killer she’d never bothered to find despite her penchant for punishment?

“There can be just one winner of today’s match,” the queen went on in an even voice pitched to be soothing, reassuring. “Only one competitor will proceed to the Nuptialis Probatio to begin selecting the wife perfectly suited to him.”

A peaceful smile tipped up her lips as she sat on her throne, partially blocking my view of my father. She barked something under her breath at Ivar that had him skittering out of her way as she crossed her ankles and gazed out at the stands, conveying the perfect picture of serenity. The rubies in her crown glinted in the sunlight, prisms of crimson shooting off in a star of directions.

Her lips moved, and from the masculine mouth bobbing around us, emerged the cold command, “Azariah, fix this. Now.”

A squeak and a cute toot slipped out of the unisus from both ends—a rainbow of colors puffingfrom his wide nostrils and from his rear end enough to make his iridescent tail float upward. He peered all around us before pinning those large eyes on me.

“Don’t look at me,” I whispered. “I have no idea what to do.”

My gaze landed once more on Rush, who still hadn’t so much as blinked, whose grip on his dagger was white-knuckled.

“I can’t,” the unisus started telling me in a soft voice before an ear zipped over to bob directly in front of his mouth. He scowled, a comical expression on his horse face—I didn’t dare laugh.

“I, uh,” he stuttered before shaking out his head, causing his silken iridescent mane to undulate—and the ear to jerk out of the way. “I’m, well … okay, then.”

He cleared his throat, appearing resolved about … something, and announced for all to hear, “Our Majesty is right, of course. We’re beholden to the sacred magic of the Fae Heir Trials in general, and the Gladius Probatio in particular.” From the smoothness of his voice, I’d never have guessed how unnerved he was. No wonder the queen had selected him as announcer.

“And as only one champion is needed to proceed from the Gladius Probatio to the Nuptialis Probatio, I must have been … mistaken.”

A faint squawk wafted over from where the fairies as a whole were doing their best to have the constantly drifting cloud cover erase them from the queen’s view.From that surprise, I guessed Azariah wasn’t often wrong.

“I’ll try again,” Azariah assured.

The queen eased to rest her back against her throne. The king looked queasy enough to vomit all over her.

A lone cry of “Ti-ie, ti-ie, ti-ie” drifted from the crowd. It took only seconds for others to join in, and before Azariah could utter another word, “Ti-ie, ti-ie, ti-ie, ti-ie,” had grown loud enough that the mob’s judgment couldn’t be ignored—not even by the queen.

Her Majesty’s displeasure was pronounced enough to score deep lines to either side of her mouth. She stood again, Ivar hustling over.

More joined in the call.

“Silence,” the queen said.

Some sputtered into quiet. Others only shouted, “Ti-ie, ti-ie.”

“Youwillbe silent,” the queen growled, imbuing her voice with the command she wielded with an iron fist.

It took several moments, a few brave fae continuing the chant, but the queen stared out at them with a cold ferocity that had even their words guttering into nothing.

She pursed blood-red lips in glaring disapproval. “If you were qualified to decide matters important to the realm, you’d wear a crown. Insolence cannot and will not be tolerated.”

Her thinly veiled threat clung to the air like anarctic cold, reaching me even in the heat that continued to warm me from the inside.

“Azariah,” she said, not a sound to interrupt the strength of her order. “Proceed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the unisus said. Then, to the ear, “My queen, you must release the drake of your control if I’m to appoint him the winner.”

An instant later, Rush tumbled forward, hastily dropping the blade to break his fall. I jerked, hands launching toward him. The cuts along my arm and shoulder stung, but I swallowed a hiss of pain as I managed to push against his chest and help keep him from faceplanting.

My skin glowed a golden yellow against the brown of his fighting leathers. Stunned by the external evidence of the warmth within, I stared at it.

Nose to nose, his eyelids fluttered as awareness swept away the dull darkness from his irises. As his eyes focused, they took me in, that moonlight once again bright—and now stormy as a tempest capable of rending apart mountains.

He dragged his stare across every part of my exposed flesh, his mouth slack at the light emanating off me.

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