Page 37 of A Bride for the Winter King
“Is she alright?” a voice asks.
The woman taps my back forcefully, pulling me out of the haze. “Are you okay, dandelion fluff?”
The Red that was standing behind me on the plank rolls her eyes. “Don’t bother, Wendy. She only pretended to drown to get more screen time.”
Her arms are still wrapped around her chest, and I realize merely seconds have passed since the Winter King’s snowball hit the button. My skin stings from the cold, a circle of women gazing down at me from all sides.
“Look at her. She’s not faking it,” Daisy says. “Besides… how do you explain the ice, dumb nut?”
I rub a drop of saliva from my blue lips. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
Wendy claps her hands and shoos off the crowd. “Give her some air, people.”
“Thank you,” I croak.
“Don’t think we’re friends because I wouldn’t let you get all the attention,” she whispers under her breath.
The cameras buzz closer, and Paul sticks a microphone close to her face. “Is Lori alright?”
“Oh, yes. She’s fine, now,” the Winter bride says dismissively, combing her fingers through her long black mane.
“What’s your name?”
“Wendy Frost.”
Her surname rings a bell, and I check her ears. She’s Fae… I didn’t know Fae were allowed to enter the contest.
“Frost… My oh my, we have a legacy candidate over here. The only Fae on the roster, I think.”
“You’re right, Paul, but I just don’t see why all the fun should be left to the mortals.”
The host chuckles at that and asks Wendy to talk more about herself, but I zone out the rest of their conversation.
Seth dumps my coat back over my shoulders. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
The coat heats me up and absorbs the moisture from my skin, and I hold the lapels tightly around my frame, still shivering. “I’ll live,” I grumble.
Seth and the Spring brides usher me away to a secluded spot behind the dunk tank. Poppy sticks a hot mug of coffee under my nose. Steam rises from the black liquid, and I sip on it slowly, each swig more delicious than the last. My fingers and toes are itchy as hell, but a bit of life returns to my core.
“Wow. That Wendy is even more of a camera whore than you are,” Daisy says, the Winter bride still deep in conversation with Paul. “You think she planned this? To profit from your clout?”
Seth’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Daisy huffs like she’s disappointed in him. “Grown women don’t often drown in kiddy-size pools. Someone casted a pretty powerful spell over that tank.”
While Daisy’s hypothesis makes sense, I can’t shake the intuition that the king is somehow responsible for what just happened; not just some ambitious, ruthless competitor.
“What about Elio?” I ask with a grimace. “Ice is his thing, right?”
“He pummeled through it with his bare hands. I don’t see why he would have bothered to rescue you if he was the one trying to kill you,” she whispers back.
I saw him so clearly. Standing above the ice, watching me drown… “Maybe he thought I was already dead and wanted to avoid suspicion.”
It’s not such a crazy theory. I am more resilient and made of sturdier magic than the Spring seed I pretend to be, but I can’t let Daisy know about that.
Sarafina disperses the crowd still gathered by the fence. “Alright. The tank is closed for the day. Let her warm up for a bit.” She calls Seth and the brides away for the next challenge, the teams once again having to select a sacrificial lamb for another humiliating game, and I wait until I’m alone to approach the dunk tank.
Daisy’s right. We’re all vying for a bushel of blue apples and a crown nobody survives, but someone must be more desperate to win than I’d originally thought possible.
