Page 54 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
“Oh, no, I absolutely do, and they absolutely will try. But first of all, you have to sleep somewhere, and second, that’s where my tricks come into play.”
I force myself to wait to find out what he’s referring to since I don’t want to admit I got distracted when he told me the first time. Our grandparents stride away without a second glance, surrounded by an entourage of guards, and another group of guards encircles me and Cillian as we begin to make our way back to our tents. People, both fae and human alike, are still milling about as the ceremony disperses, and there are no friendly faces in the crowd. Not only are we traitors, but we’ve bound all the houses to this tournament against their will,causing them to travel across the realm and risk their lives, for what? So some humans can attempt to wrest the throne from a half-millennia old fae Queen?
When I’d first arrived, my tent was situated at the back of the cluster of House Harkyn tents, but now dozens of others surround it, tents for residents of other houses. I am still puzzled as to why my grandparents placed me at the perimeter, furthest away from the main tent, and most easily accessible by our enemies. Unless they think I’m going to burn this whole place down… If they think I still wield some power over fire, they are going to be very disappointed come morning when the first tournament challenge begins and they realize I have no control over whatever strange magic runs through my veins.
As we approach the tent, a small group of fae emerge from the shadows.
My heart climbs into my throat. There are a half dozen of them, an equal amount to the human guards that surround us. Human guards who, of course, are no match for fae warriors. My hand goes to the dagger at my waist as panic spikes through me. It may be futile against the fae, but I won’t go quietly.
Cillian turns to me with a smile. “Calm down, cousin. I told you I had tricks.”
I stare at him, brow furrowed, as he strides forward and greets one of the fae with a slight bow, crossing one arm over his chest in a sign of respect.
“I obtained some extra security for our tents,” Cillian explains. “This is Athar. He’ll watch over you.”
The fae jerks his chin toward me in what is probably intended as a nod, his long golden hair rippling. He’s wearing leather armor, as are the rest of the fae, men and women both. A sheath of arrows is strapped to his back, and he has more blades strapped to his body than I can count.
“The fae want to help…us?” I ask, my heart still beating too quickly, my words sticking in my throat.
“For a handsome price, of course,” Cillian says. “A hefty amount of coin can buy most things.”
My gaze sweeps over the group of warriors dubiously. “And what happens if someone else offers them more coin?”
Athar frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are smarter than most humans. But I have a contract with your cousin, and I do not break my word once given. Honor is all we have in life.”
Honor to the highest bidder? I bite my tongue and nod. It’s an odd way to look at things, but it’s at least some semblance of a chance to live through the night, which is more than I thought I had five minutes ago.
“I am grateful, Athar,” I say, offering my own small bow.
“Try to get some rest,” Cillian says. “Dawn will come swiftly, and you’ll need every bit of strength and wit you possess.”
I walk to the entrance of my tent before turning back to him. “I don’t suppose your tricks include knowing what kind of challenge they’ll present us with tomorrow?”
Cillian shakes his head. “Sorry, cousin. Even I am not privy to that secret.”
I nod, trying to ignore the heavy weight that’s settling in my gut. “Well, we’ll just see what tomorrow brings, won’t we?”
“That we will. I bid you good night.” Cillian turns and walks off into the night, half of the human and fae guards following him.
The remaining six guards fan out around my tent, Athar himself standing to the right of the entrance. I gaze up at the moon, which is nearly full, and I take in a lungful of the fresh salt air coming in off the ocean. The valley glitters all around me like a thousand fireflies. I soak it all in, because it could well be my last night on this earth. Then, after a few minutes, I retreat into the tent, letting the flap fall shut behind me.
There’s a small plate of food on my bedroll, meat and cheese and bread. I’m not hungry, but I force myself to eat it anyways. Cillian is right. I need all my strength for tomorrow. Even if my strength is nothing next to a fae. Despite the horrible knowledge I’d gained earlier, the confirmation of my worst fears about what happened to my parents and my sister, I still can’t give up. I’d been fighting for survival for so long, and that burning drive within me won’t let me do that. If it’s my fate to die tomorrow, then I’ll accept that and know it’s only what I deserve.
But I’m not going to go quietly to my death.
After I finish eating, I set my plate back on the table. There’s a candle there, unlit, the wick fresh and white. After a moment’s debate, I pick it up, holding the pewter base of it in the palm of my hand. I stare at the wick, focusing all my energy on it, thinking of heat and fire and what had happened at Shadow’s Keep. I sit there for minute after minute, but I feel not even the slightest stir of magic. It is just an unlit candle, I am just a human girl who cannot summon her power.
Finally, I put the candle back with a sigh and crawl beneath the rough sheets of my bedroll. I try to fall asleep but my mind wanders. Somewhere within the valley, Daemon is here. Tomorrow, I will face off against him and dozens of other champions in the tournament challenge. He had saved my life more than once, but tomorrow, his goal will be the opposite. Is he lying in his bed, plotting my death? Thinking of the best ways to exploit my weaknesses?
It’s far too many hours later before sleep finally claims me. I sleep fitfully, awakening to every sound outside my tent. The crackle of the fire the guards built. The sharpening of a blade in the distance. The banging of a pot, the cry of a night bird. Dark dreams plague what little sleep I do find, dreams of black magic and gleaming swords and jade eyes and fire.
And then, far too soon, it is dawn, and Athar’s voice is breaking through my sleep.
I sit up, my body protesting from the cold night and the rough bed and the ride the day before. But rested or not, in pain or not, it is time.
The first challenge of the tournament is upon me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
