Page 63 of A War of Crowns

Duchess Edith reached over and grasped her hand. She gratefully accepted her godmother’s touch with a gentle squeeze.

King Edmund’s gaze veritably smoldered with his amusement as he gazed up at her. All he offered in way of farewell, though, was another dip of his head and a warm declaration of, “May the best champion win, Your Majesty.”

Seraphina watched the king and his mother finally depart for their own seats, all the way on the opposite side of the tournament grounds. But even that great distance didn’t feel like enough.

More trumpets blared. Horses whinnied. The joust was soon to begin.

Seraphina looked to where Oracle Tsukiko and her Redguard still lingered nearby. Her irritation over the dowager queen’s cattinessmelted away when her eyes locked with the prophetess’s silver gaze.

It was difficult to feel out of sorts with Tsukiko’s calming presence so near.

I wish you could stay, she thought, feeling rather silly while she did so.

But Tsukiko had no reply, verbal or otherwise. The Oracle merely bowed low and turned to glide across the tourney grounds, making for the Drakmori side of the field. She was to spend the rest of the afternoon in King Edmund’s company.

For the sake of neutrality.

Without the Oracle’s nearness soothing her swiftly fraying nerves, Seraphina became entirely too aware of the fact that the Crow was watching her again. She was aware of Aldric Hargrave in the same way she imagined a doe would be aware of a wolf.

Her blood hummed with warning. Her mind raced, desperate to understand what role the man was meant to play in her current battle of wills with his younger brother.

And with the dark danger all of Avirel seemed to face.

Who was Aldric Hargrave truly?

King? Pawn? Madman? Murderer?

Seraphina turned her head and met the Crow’s one-eyed gaze stare for stare. No doubt, Edmund had simply resurrected his brother to catch her off guard. Perhaps even to intimidate her.

But she would not be cowed by House Hargrave’s clumsy attempts to unnerve her.

Tightening her jaw, Seraphina tore her attention away from the Crow in favor of slanting a look at her godfather. “Your Grace? Please send word to Sir Tristan. Tell him that I want him toevisceratethe competition. It’s high time we showed these Drakmori what we are truly made of.”

Her godfather entertained a small smile. Lifting a hand to summon his valet, he murmured, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter nineteen

Aldric

“Here, Your Highness.” Calix shoved another waterskin into his hand.

Aldric rumbled some word of thanks and splashed some over his head. While the lukewarm droplets trickled down through his hair and seeped under his jerkin, he flicked another quick glance toward the Elmorian box where the queen sat with the rest of her court.

His hackles rose when his eye locked with hers again.

After nearly two decades in exile out in the misty hills of Blackrun, he had forgotten what it was like to be pinned beneath the blade of a lady’s disdainful gaze. Especially a lady as prim and polished as the Queen of Elmoria, flashing beneath the sunlight in all her gold and jewels.

“That queen keeps staring at you, boss,” Rakonobserved.

Aldric shrugged and looked away. “She’s just never seen a dwarf before.”

After a life raised in the Drakmori court, he was used to it. The looks. The whispers. The subtle barbs.

Beck was the only one who hadn’t treated him any differently.

“Eisway’s up next for the joust,” Calix announced, and Aldric dutifully turned his one-eyed gaze back to the list to watch.

Tayn had already been disqualified, but Eisway had made it to the final round. He was to ride against the Elmorian champion next—some young man with a straight nose and shiny armor who looked as if he had never seen a single moment of battle in his entire life.

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