Page 42 of Once the Skies Fade

What that approach exactly was, though, I hadn’t yet decided. Whatever strategy I devised depended greatly on my competition, all eleven of whom stood scattered about the large room I now entered.

A trio of males—one notably larger and more confident than his companions—gathered near one of the windows, giving me little more than a cursory glance as I walked in. While I didn’t recognize the obvious leader or the scrawny male beside him, I instantly identified the third—a dark-haired male of average height—as Korben from Linley. He was a close friend of the late Griffin Ford, the fae noble who had inadvertently brought Connor and Lieke together by attacking the woman—multiple times—and dying at her hand.

In the middle of the large space, five other males of varying statures halted their conversation to gawk at me, or rather to glare straight down their noses at me. By their air of superiority and the silver ivy design embroidered at the hem of theirsleeves, I surmised they were all from Arenysen, and likely felt that garnered them some favor in these games. Knowing their general, though, I doubted that to be the case.

The remaining three contenders stood alone, speaking to no one and watching everyone, including me. In the corner with slick-backed hair and an equally oily grin was Seb, former mayor of Engle, looking as self-important as the Arenysen males. Against the wall by the window nearest to me leaned a member of the Holsham garrison, Oryn Lain, his blond hair and downturned blue eyes giving him a youthful, but sad, appearance. While he had completed his initial training under me—as all garrison members did—I didn’t know him too well. The last, a lanky male with graying dark brown hair and a suspicious look in his eyes, was situated near the dais where two thrones sat empty, a solemn reminder of why I was here. He had his arms crossed smugly in front of him, as if he had already claimed the throne and needed to guard it from the rest of us.

The invitation to these games had made it clear this competition would not be like the frivolous “beauty” contests of old, but the challenges we would face had not been disclosed. Regardless, alliances could make or break my chances at succeeding—or at least remaining long enough to learn more about the queen. The already formed groups would be nearly impossible to weasel my way into, which left the three loners. I could choose one as a partner or attempt to bring them together. It was too soon to determine which would be the best move, so I resorted to approaching the one nearest me—Oryn.

The male stiffened as I approached, lifting himself off the wall. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, but he held my gaze as he spoke in an even tone. “If I knew I’d be competing against you, I would have stayed home.” He extended a hand toward me. “Oryn Lain, from Holsham. I trained under you years ago.”

Shaking his offered hand, I offered him an easy smile. “I remember. Call me Matthias.”

Oryn’s brows shot toward his hairline, and I half-expected his mouth to fall open. “Of course, s—I mean—Matthias.” He uttered my name like he wasn’t sure I truly wanted him to use it.

I cast a look around the room. “Weren’t there to be thirteen of us?”

“Last never showed,” he answered with a shrug. “One less to beat.”

“Indeed.”

“At least you made it in time.”

He looked at me expectantly, as if I owed him some explanation for my late arrival. I didn’t offer one. “Do you know any of these guys?”

“I only knew Seb and Rhett”—he gestured toward the big fae standing with Korben by the window—“before arriving. Not well, though they’re both from Emeryn. I’ve gotten acquainted with the others over the last few days.”

I swore under my breath. I had arrived later than I thought.

Oryn laughed dryly. “At least you weren’t late like number thirteen.”

“Have you all met our potential bride yet?” I asked, wondering how much of a disadvantage my delay had earned me.

“Not formally, no. That general of hers is mitigating risks, it seems.”

I lifted a brow at him. “What kind of risks exactly?”

He smirked around a scoff. “Maybe they worry one of us has come to kill her.”

“What?” I asked sharply and pulled my mouth into a grimacing frown. “Why would they suspect that?”

Another laugh answered me before he added, “Stars if I know.” He paused to study me for a brief moment before aiminga finger hesitantly at my chest. “Wait, didn’t you meet her on your way in?”

I nodded, still frowning.

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “What was she like? Is she as intimidating as she seems?”

I became acutely aware of the others’ silent stares as they all awaited my response. Oryn hadn’t been as discreet as he’d intended, it seemed. Rubbing my jaw, I weighed my possible answers. I could make her sound terrifying to scare the weak-hearted, but I didn’t want to lie about her—at least not when I had other options. There was always the brush-off tactic of downplaying the power she wielded and the confidence she—mostly—displayed, even after having her ass dropped into the dirt and leaves. This would perhaps help boost my own image, but acting as if her reputation was unwarranted seemed wrong too.

That left me with the truth—most of it, anyway.

“I wouldn’t say intimidating, but she certainly embodies her royal title,” I finally said.

“Is it true you carried her to the castle though?” This question came from behind me, and I turned to see the shorter male had moved away from Rhett and Korben toward me.

“And you are?” I asked politely.

“Beck Dixon,” he chirped, and then rushed to add more. “From Shoerda.”

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