I wonder if the man wields any magic or if all he has is just brutal force. Magic is rare, and very often, some of the five provinces send regular humans when they cannot find any mages for the tournament. If he relies only on his muscles and battle experience, he might be in for a surprise.
I pile some more food on the silver plate inlaid with gold flowers, ignoring the snarky comment of the WPP that I’ve probably never seen that much food in my life. Atos’s hell pits, she’s right; at least not food like this: a juicy mushroom-stuffed starling with a spicy radish purée on the side. Cutting the meat into small pieces, I resume my observation.
A brutish Fae female with shaved sides of her skull and gruesome tattoos is quietly sipping on her wine, watching everyone with half-lidded eyes. She’s wearing a moss-green tinted leather armor. Odd jewelry made of bones pierces her nose and the high tips of her ears.
“This is Aydalla, court huntress. Beware of her. She is brutal, and she detests us,” a warm male voice makes me drop my fork. A broad-shouldered man with messy brown curls and a blinding smile pulls the vacant chair on my right. Now I know what he means byus. He is also human. Judging by his sun-kissed skin probably from the Free Cities. My eyes are drawn immediately to his heavy golden earrings engraved with arcane symbols. “Protective runes,” he clarifies, misinterpreting my greedy gaze. Those earrings can fetch a handsome price at Mute Gorb’s pawn shop. “Small magical talismans are allowed in the Trials.” His fingers tap on my bracelet, and for a moment, all color drains from his face, but he quickly recovers.
“Same here, protection,” I mumble, pulling the ragged lace of my sleeve to cover the bracelet, reluctant to share the story of my accident and the trinket, which Mother believed would make my ugly scar less obvious. I’m not sure if it works, as the red, angry skin is still there, but I guess it would’ve been much worse without it.
“Well, Talysse of No Name, you look like you’re in desperate need of a drink. And some company.” He fills my crystal flute with faintly shimmering Fae wine and piles a tiny iceberg of cheese on his plate. “Too bad you’ve missed the introductions, but I can see that you’re observant enough. I am Galeoth, by the way. People call me Gale.” He throws a piece of juicy ham in his mouth, watching me. His almond-shaped eyes have a warm, honey color; their unusual shape makes him look as if he’s smiling all the time. A furrow appears between his dark brows as if he’s struggling to process something.
“Well, you already know my name, and yes, I’m in dire need of a drink.” I continue slicing my starling, wondering what the real reason behind his friendliness is. Men are never friendly to women like me without an agenda.
“Is it true you were living in a stable?” Gale asks, twirling his glass casually, and the Warrior Pony Princess snorts loudly. I take a long look at him while chewing on my starling. Surprisingly, there’s no trace of mockery behind that smile, which seems to be able to melt the snow caps of the Holy Mountain. Just genuine curiosity.
“You mean after my parents were executed by the Fae, my sister was sold to the highest bidder, and I was forced to fend for myself when I was seventeen? Yes, it was hard to find shelter, so after weeks of being bitten by rats, nearly raped, and stabbed a couple of times, I managed to find refuge in a stable. It appeared to me grander than a palace.” I chew on my piece with delight, looking him straight in the eye.
His amber eyes soften. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to sound snobbish, Talysse, and I have respect for a fellow survivor,” he lowers his voice. “Anyways, we’ve disclosed that Aydalla is to be avoided, but so is this one.” He points with his knife without bothering to conceal who he is talking about at a very unusual Fae.
“What is she?” I whisper, glaring. A tall and slender female sits behind a glass of plain water, her frame almost ethereal yet menacing. Her skin, a deep, bark-like hue, is veined with pulsating dark green lines that hint at the power coursing through her. Her hair cascades like twisted vines, a tangled mass of deep green and black tendrils, some of which move and slither with a life of their own. Her eyes, glowing an eerie emerald, are fixed somewhere ahead in a quite unsettling way. Dark, leaf-like patterns adorn her limbs. Foreboding energy buzzes around her, and the seats on both sides of her are empty.
“Is she—”
“A Dark Dryad? Yes. Dark Dryads never speak, so nobody knows her name or why she has volunteered for the Trials. No need to tell you to steer clear of this one. Dark Dryads—”
“—can summon roots and vines and crush their foe or poison them as they have powers over venomous plants.” Gale nods, and his lips stretch in an approving smile, displaying the even row of his teeth.
“I see you know your Fae. Unexpected for someone living in stables,” Gale says softly, ensuring the WPP and her friend don’t overhear.
I raise an eyebrow and reply with a smirk. “What can I say? The horses have excellent taste in bedtime stories.”
We both chuckle, and I lean closer to him. “Why are you telling me all this, Gale? Why are you so kind?” I ask, shoving a spoonful of purée into my mouth. Friar Ben always said I was too direct, but it has served me well so far.
“It doesn’t hurt to have allies in the hell we’re about to enter, right? And the other humans look…not so trustworthy,” he says, gesturing subtly at the blond nobles and the mercenary sitting nearby.
I chew thoughtfully, then nod. “You’ve got a point there. Plus, I hear mercenaries have a habit of vanishing when things get messy.”
Gale chuckles. “Exactly. And I’d rather not rely on someone too afraid not to mess up their hair or stain their clothes.” He points his chin at WPP and her friend, who are too focused on their food to notice.
“Smart move,” I say, grinning. “So, what’s your story? Did you volunteer, tempted by their promises of riches and power?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be? And let’s just say the Trials would give me a chance to settle an old debt,” he replies with a wink, but there is a darker nuance to his words. He remains silent for a moment, the clanking of cutlery and the voices of the others filling the awkward silence, then lifts his glass and downs it in one go, crimson droplets staining his richly embroidered cotton shirt.
“So, Talysse of the Stables, back to our Fae. You’ve already met the Dryad and the Huntress. Now behold Lord Woodrick, busy with this enormous piece of raw meat—”
I nearly choke on a mushroom when I spot the enormous Fae male across the table and the ferocity with which he’s tearing at the meat. Sweet Cymmetra, he’s even growling and gnawing on the bone! His spiky black hair is stained with blood, and so is his leather vest. Every now and then, he quickly scans the tent, his eyes the color of old gold. His vertically slit pupils dilate when he catches me glaring. He lets go of the meat, then nods and smiles, his lips revealing blood-stained and unnervingly sharp fangs.
“And you’ve caught the attention of the lord, the one thing you were supposed not to!” Gale throws his hands in the air dramatically.
“Great, just what I needed,” I mutter, unbothered, continuing to study the Fae. An amulet carved from dark wood hangs around his neck. Unusual, as Fae prefer more complex and luxurious pieces. It is a rough wolf head. The hairs on my neck stand up when I realize what it means.
“Is he—”
“Yes, he is,” Gale confirms. “A shifter. No need to warn you to stay away from him, right? Stay away from all of them, Talysse. They’re here to hunt humans. And they don’t fear death. Let me tell you, after you’ve lived for some centuries, the halls of Atos seem like a good alternative to all this.”
“Note taken. My father used to say that the longevity of Fae messes up their heads, and some take their own lives, but many go mad and decide to go out in a blaze of glory. Surely, some of them are at this point right now.”
“Bingo. And speaking of insanity, is this—” I strain my eyes to make sure that I’m seeing right, “is this a child?”
