And waited.
Sure enough, Trestwell sneezed loud and true.
Perfect.
Bram released.
The arrow flew, hitting dead center and becoming one with Trestwell’s shot.
Silence reigned, eerie for such a festivity. The judges’ shoesshooshed across the field as they strode to examine the target, Mr. Gallen being amongst them.
Time stopped as they conferred. Trestwell smirked. Bram blew out a long, slow breath. He’d done it. He’d split the arrow, even with Trestwell’s ill-timed sneeze.
The judges strode back, and Mr. Gallen angled himself so he might face Bram, Trestwell, and the crowd at the same time. “It is with great pleasure that I announce the king of the bonfire for tonight’s festivities.”
Bram met Eva’s gaze. Pride sparked in her eyes, a hopeful smile on her lips.
“And the winner is Mr. Richard Trestwell!”
Eva’s jaw unhinged. How could this day possibly go from bad to worse in such a short amount of time? And not just for her. Bram stalked away, evidently as finished with this afternoon as she was.
“That can’t be right!” one of the students grumbled.
“Professor Webb always wins,” another one joined in. “Something smells of the highest stink.”
“I don’t understand.” Bram’s uncle shook his head.
“Behold, citizens of Royston, your king of the bonfire.” Mr. Gallen placed a silver crown on Richard Trestwell’s mass of dark hair, then he singled her out of the crowd with a wave of his fingertips. “Queen, if you would come and award His Majesty with a kiss, then we shall all disperse until the lighting of the bonfire at half past five.”
“Oh dear,” Dixon whispered at her side.
Eva gripped the railing with one hand, anchoring her feet. Nothing in the world could persuade her to kiss that man.
“We are waiting, Queen,” Mr. Gallen called.
Slowly, then gaining momentum, a chant swirled like an unholy wind throughout the crowd. “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!”
Penny bumped into her. “Eva, do you really have to kiss that man?”
“Do not be silly.” Eva crushed her bonnet brim in her hand. Why had she ever let Lottie talk her into coming today?
“Your Highness.” The man next to her nudged her sideways, as did another and another. Before she knew it, she’d been shoved all the way along the railing to where Trestwell waited with open arms.
“My Queen.” A hungry smile spread across his lips.
Eva swallowed. Hard.
Just as footsteps pounded her way. “He cheated,” Bram shouted. “Disqualify this man!”
Mr. Trestwell spun to face Bram. “Absurd! You always were a sore loser, Webb.”
A low rumble thundered through the spectators, followed by a round of I-knew-its from Bram’s students. Eva sucked in a breath. Could it be?
Bram held out an arrow. “This arrow is weighted. No doubt they all were. That is why they sank in so deeply. My arrow didn’t stand a chance.”
“You’re just jealous.” With a long reach of his arm, Richard Trestwell slammed her up against his body. The cloying stink of lime aftershave clung to his skin, and his breath was overly hot. “I shall take my rightful kiss now, Queen.”
Eva wrenched from Mr. Trestwell’s grip as Mr. Gallen gestured to the three men on the sidelines. “Hold please, Mr. Trestwell. Judges?”
