Page 32 of Once the Skies Fade

Isa merely shrugged. “I didn’t tell him to, but I didn’t dissuade him either. It seemed a reasonable enough solution, no?”

“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Isa strode over, but instead of sitting as Graham had, she planted herself in front of me and leaned back against the edge of my desk, her arms crossed in front of her.

“So, what will you do instead?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You could always see if Kinham or Wrenwick would?—”

“No,” I snapped. I stared at my friend. How could she—given everything that had happened this past month—suggest I consider marrying a human?

Isa sighed knowingly. “Ah, of course. No humans. I forgot.”

“It has to be a fae.”

“There aren’t any royal fae left on the continent, and I don’t recommend reaching out to Dolobare.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that, not after…” My throat constricted as my parents’ faces appeared in my mind’s eye. Whether the Dolobareans had any hand in their deaths or not, I was as interested in that prospect as I was in considering a human. Iswallowed hard and continued. “I will have to find someone in Arenysen.”

“Why not Emeryn?” Isa asked, almost apologetically, but still the word shot a barb into my heart.

Could I choose a new husband from Brennan’s home? Merely thinking about it caused my lungs to compress. Isa lowered her head to one side, and had she been anyone else, I would have resented the pity in her eyes.

“You will be sorely limited if you don’t.”

I waved her away. “How am I even supposed to choose again, Isa?”

She shrugged. “There’s always Gra—” As I groaned, her words gave way to laughter. “Why not consider him?”

Wearily, I nodded. “He’s Graham.”

“You say his name like he’s got some sort of disease,” she said, stifling more laughter.

“I do not. He’s just—he was my parents’ advisor, and practically my brother. I couldn’t.”

For several minutes we were both silent, until Isa finally said, “What about a tournament? Like the old monarchs used to hold.”

I leaned back in my chair and mulled over her suggestion. Little was known about the old trials our ancestors had been fond of. All I remembered from my schooling was they typically involved females being paraded before their rulers and judged on everything from their appearance and poise to their ancestry and breeding potential. The contests had grown out of fashion well before my parents were born, and no one had held one since.

Shooting a curious glance at my friend, I asked, “You want me to host games?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

I grimaced. “They were little more than beauty pageants. Humiliating and?—”

“Who said you had to model it after the original tradition? You don’t want to pick someone, right?” My throat clenched, closing off my air, so all I could do was shake my head. “Then make them compete.”

“What would they have to do?”

“I’m sure I can come up with a few ideas. I’ve been training our soldiers for years, after all. It can’t be that much harder to devise obstacles to help select a new king. We could call on some friends to help. Asher and his brothers are always eager to earn extra coin.”

“Mercenaries usually are,” I muttered, and my shadows seemed to churn inside me as I mentally picked apart this plan. “This could work, on one condition.”

“What’s that? Don’t want Graham to be eligible?” she asked, a hint of a laugh playing in her eyes.

I scoffed. “Let him compete if he wants to, but I want to be involved. I may not want to choose someone, but I’m not about to forfeit control over the process.”

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