Page 73 of Surfaces
We listened to the scores, with the herald announcing and Sahar recording it all for posterity.
My trepidation grew as neither Felipe or Valdez’s names were called out.
Mateo’s score was middling, as was the score for nearly all the men who’d found a single item.
But the two men who’d gotten creative weren’t announced among those.
I tried not to squeeze Julian’s fingers and make him aware of how each additional announcement made me tense.
The judges must have wanted only literal interpretations of their quest, which I thought was foolish. But it was also bad.
Sard.
Why couldn’t the tournament allow me to judge?
My eyes darted to Sahar, who was chewing her lip as she waited.
Keelan held Mr. Whelk under his arm and kept his eyes on his pet, his posture betraying his nerves.
He was just as worried as I was.
My eyes traveled over to each of the men in question—the creative thinkers.
I tried to weigh my options. I could save one, but only one from elimination.
Saving Felipe would also save Keelan. And both of them were definite finalists—future husbands if I even dared think that word, which still intimidated me.
But what about the pirate? The man who sank ships and sold stolen goods to creeps like Gorgono, who failed to follow any rules, but who made my soul feel like it had been set aflame?
Could I just let him go when I felt like there was potential still? When I felt like he might possibly be earnest about his desire for me? When I hoped he might change?
Would Felipe’s high score from the joust be enough to offset whatever points he was awarded here?
Was there a way I could keep the pirate who intrigued me so much…or should I not take the chance?
My stomach see-sawed as every other name was mentioned, even the four shrimp dicks (though I supposed their dicks would return to normal after today).
Had the judges forgotten? I wanted to whip my head to the side to stare them down, but I forced myself to turn slowly, patiently, though inside I felt anything but patient.
The head judge cleared his throat after the herald finished announcing Taft’s score. He stroked his long, dangling mustache before saying, “Two competitors brought us quite interesting items today. Not exactly what we’d requested but they did show some creativity. The question becomes, however, how beneficial is this type of thinking? It’s unique. It shows ingenuity. But it can also lead one astray. Instead of following the queen’s orders, these thinkers may decide to deliberately misinterpret the instructions they are given. And that can lead to disaster. Or…it can very well save the kingdom.”
The judge with the strip of lavender hair, nodded her agreement from her spot in her wicker chair.
Good. That was good. My face started to relax into a smile.
But then the whisker-haired judge glanced over at Gorgono.
The mayor looked between the judge and I and smiled, which I thought was odd, until I saw him reach up and scratch at his chin.
The judge swallowed hard, clearing his throat and giving a quick half-nod of acknowledgement, and that’s when I realized that Gorgono was calling the shots with these judges. That neck scratch wasn’t simply a scratch—it was a signal.
This tournament wasn’t about my competitors’s wit at all—but the mayor’s. Based on the smarmy look in the mayor’s eyes, things were about to go very badly for me.
Pins and needles stabbed me as the judge paused, before saying, “Divergent thinking is one of the pillars of our city. It allows new creations, can inspire others, and can be one of the greatest assets an individual can have. But we’ve weighed this intellectual asset against the responsibilities of the crown. Creativity is within the realm of the city. But not the monarchy. A queen is supposed to provide predictability. Stability. This sort of bending the rules could lead to unfair interpretations of policies, changes to military orders, things of a catastrophic nature that could undermine the crown and the stability of the kingdom. Therefore, we not only didn’t award points to these two competitors, we subtracted them.”
I felt like I was plummeting down a cliff—my worst fear realized.
Gorgono kept a straight politician’s face, hiding his gloat with the practiced perfection of a master. Still—I seethed. My affection for Keelan was obvious, his mother was my advisor and he’d been at my side all damned afternoon on this roof. And Gorgono stripping Felipe—Keelan’s stand-in—of points meant that he intended to deprive me of one of the men I found a powerful ally.
