Page 45 of Blooms of Darkness

My gaze shifted back to the field below me. I needed to pay attention to see what they were doing, the strategies they were choosing, but, more importantly, who came out winning.

I snorted the moment I scanned the tables. Ian held the lead. He had secured two out of the five necessary trade cards, and seven of the nine necessary dice rolls. He only needed a few rolls to win and move onto the next task. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face, and neither could I. His damn victory smile had been thrown my way more times than I cared to count.

Frederich and Hale were not too far behind Ian. They had four of their dice secured, and two of the trade cards. If they played their hands right, they could catch up quickly.

Kade seemed to be struggling with the dice, but instead, had secured all of the trade cards. Lord Thatcher appeared to be lost, while Lord West growled and muttered to himself, clearly havingtrouble with both dice and cards. Neither were handling this well. Every so often, the contenders would survey each other’s progress in an attempt to catch up.

Ryland had secured one trade card and one dice but didn’t seem deterred or frustrated in the least. In fact, I caught quite a few spectators cheering for him while he waved a hand, smiling, but remained focused.

The last contender, Edmund Fairweather, seemed to be less pleased with his struggle, even though he held the same number of dice and cards as Ryland. His features contorted with apparent frustration.

Clearly not everyone played Chance & Destiny as much as I had as a child.

The minutes dragged on as the stadium cheered occasionally, waiting for the first task to be completed. The sun crested to a peak in the sky. My father maintained a slight breeze moving through the pavilion to cool the air around us, as the warmth from the sun heated the nature-made arena.

Beads of sweat glistened from the poorer folks in the stands who stood in the back, not wealthy or connected enough to have garnered a seat and whose magic had to be reserved for every task. The division of magic had become more and more obvious the older I became. At first, I hadn’t noticed much, content in my childhood bubble inside the castle.

It would be impossible to remain ignorant of the struggles of Fae with lesser magic, especially after noticing the hesitation women in court had accepting Kalliah, when I named her my head lady-in-waiting. Guilt lashed through me like a whip. I didn’t have magic, and I knew I would be treated even worse than the lesser Fae if I’d have been born anywhere other than the royal house. There were even noble houses who had banished children who couldn't produce enough magic. Yet, here I sat,raised above those with more magic in their little finger than I possessed in my entire body.

My attention returned to the stands. While those with lesser magic were sweating, the stronger Fae manipulated the air and temperature around them. Several in the stands created their own shade by growing vines to block the sun’s unrelenting glare in the cloudless sky above.

A slap of wood jolted me back into the present moment. My lip curled in disgust. Somehow Frederich had won the game. He quickly ran across the arena toward the second task.

Another slap of wood sounded before Frederich reached the next table. Ian had finished as well, sprinting forward and starting right behind Frederich as they began the next task.

The second task took place in a shadier part of the arena, the height of the stands blocking the sun from the field below. A small wooden table for each contender held four chalices of varying shapes and sizes, with eight archways just beyond the row of tables. The archways were each surrounded by flowers and beautiful twined vines outlining a door within. A thick bush spanning across the arena, going through each of their personal doors, provided the only option for each contender to pass to the third task.

“The second task has begun for some,” the king announced. “Contender’s Choice will have each of them selecting a cup to drink from. However, not all are safe, and only one will get them through the door ahead.”

Cheering erupted from the crowd, along with a few shouts of surprise.

We were all learning about the trials in real time. I sat straighter in my seat, watching Ian study each chalice. Surely it couldn’t be anything dangerous.

“Father?” I probed.

He volunteered a small smile. “One cup will let them pass through the door. One is poisoned with a itch-inducing potion that will render them incapable of continuing. One does nothing. And one…” He cleared his throat. “One is dangerously poisoned, paralyzing the body completely.”

I gulped.

“With their Fae abilities, they should be able to heal with the help of Elisabeth by the end of the day.”

He seemed completely unaffected by the prospect of serious injury, in what I thought were mere trials for entertainment.

A shiver raced along my arms.

Additional slaps of wood made me jump, looking back to the arena and to the contenders still on task one. Lord Casimir, Kade, Hale, and Ryland had all managed to pass and were quickly racing to their potion stations.

Edmund and Lord Thatcher were still sorting through their dice and cards, frustration evident in their expressions. Their brows were furrowed in apparent discontent at being bested by a game of Chance & Destiny. A few more moments, and Edmund slapped the wood beside him and proceeded to his potions table.

The anger boiling over from Lord Thatcher was palpable, even from afar, as he finished the game last.

Back at the potion's tables, my gaze furiously darted between the contenders, studying the various chalices of liquids. Keeping up with the contenders, and where they were in their tasks, proved difficult.

My father coughed a few times, attempting to hide the noise since we were in public.

Before I could reach him, Andras’s grating, nasally voice sounded from behind my father’s throne. “Your Majesty.”

I peered over my shoulder to find Andras hunched close to my father’s ear, and he discreetly handed him a small vial. He whispered quietly enough so I couldn’t hear anything he said.My father dumped the vial into his mouth. His composed face darkened, and he stilled, turning to face Andras.

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