7
The Elven Command is in an uproar. But they aren’t allowed to touch me and for the first time in the history of Marbella Mercy that works to my advantage.
I walk right past them as they shout at me and I carry my stone to the chest. I place it into the bottom right compartment in the only remaining space. As I step back, the magic takes hold and the lid slams shut.
The bang startles everyone into silence.
“What’s done is done,” I say.
I return to the dais, but instead of remaining in the center, I remove my cloak and hand it to Jordan. She takes it, her face streaked with tears and now with shock.
“Princess…”
“He loves you. He’s being forced to do this.”
Before I return to stand on the dais, I seek Elise across the room. She nods. She knows why I’m doing this. Revealed in my armor for the first time, I raise my voice to the clambering elves. “My people, if you expect me to be your Storm Princess, to fight for you and protect you, then understand this. I will fight for myself first.”
A female voice in the crowd cries, “We honor you Princess, but the Princess can’t fight to the death!”
“In a battle between myself and another elf, either of us may exercise the right to yield. I believe the Elven Command will support that change in the circumstances.”
The Elven Command suck in their breath. I just rewrote the rules and they’re all chewing lemons right now. More than one of them looks like they’re about to spit. The final battle is always to the death. Yielding isn’t an option. Or, at least, it never was before. But they can’t let me die.
They huddle behind me, whispering. Gideon Glory and Pedr Bounty eye me with distrust. Osian Valor and Teilo Splendor are the calmest but they’re both shrewd, clever males whose intentions are difficult to read. It’s the frosty expression on Elwyn Elder’s face that really worries me. Even though every elven House has an equal vote, Elwyn holds the highest seat so in a deadlock he has the deciding vote.
It’s Elwyn who steps forward. “The Princess may yield at any time in any trial. However, if she reaches the final battle, she must kill her opponent in order to win. This is so that her closest match does not survive to threaten her position.”
They make it sound like they’re protecting me.
“And…” He glances at the others. “She must not forget her duty to the Storm Vault.”
How could I ever forget? “I won’t.”
His posture doesn’t change, tense and unyielding. “Then there’s only one more question before we begin the trials: does the Princess wish to exercise her right to veto a champion?”
Before each test begins, I have the right to veto a particular champion. It sounds simple, but it’s dangerous.
To veto a House is to dishonor that House, so as a way to alleviate the shame, that House has the right to ask something of me in return. It can’t be something I’m not capable of giving but it can be something that I might not want to give: gold and silver are the obvious penalties, but there are dangerous requests like admitting a female elf from the vetoed House into my Storm Command even if she isn’t compatible or skilled.
Also, the veto power can only be used once, and only until the time when there are three males left. I can veto one of the three, but not once there are only two—because if I could use it at that time, then I could effectively pick my husband.
On top of that, it has to be used strategically. Using it now, at the beginning of the trials before I’ve seen what any of the champions is capable of would be foolish—I could use up my veto power on a male who was going to be knocked out in the first round anyway.
The trials for Mai’s marriage protocol are recorded publicly so I know she didn’t use her veto power at all. When she was asked the final time whether she wanted to use it, she said, “My heart was sealed the moment Darian Gild walked into this room. I don’t need to use the veto power because I know he’ll win.”
I was always in awe of how clever she was. Darian won, of course, but it made me smile to think how she’d subverted the protocols, effectively undermining the other two champions without owing their Houses any compensation. If either of the other two champions had been kind-hearted, I would have felt sorry for them, but the records of the protocols showed otherwise.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Then, we will now reveal the first test. This is a test of physical endurance. It is not a battle against the other champions, but a battle against yourself. Each of you will be transported to a spot that is an equal distance from Scepter Peak in the Revenant mountains. Those who reach the peak within twenty-four hours will proceed to the next round. Those who don’t will be eliminated. The trial begins at the third hour this afternoon.”
His gaze flicks to me. That gives me less than half the time I need to subdue the storm and get ready.
“Any champion not present in the courtyard at that time will be eliminated. Go in peace.” He swivels to me. “Princess, you must subdue the storm before you leave.”
I narrow my eyes at him. They didn’t know I was going to compete so I can’t assume they set it up to make me fail, but it doesn’t give me much time to prepare for the climb, let alone recover from the Storm Vault first. I’m definitely at a disadvantage. “As I said, I won’t forget my duties.”
I wait for them to file from the dais. The Elven Command leaves first, the spectators second, the champions third and, lastly, me. In the distance, my parents are the last to leave the stands. My father and mother both tap their chests and hold out their hands to me, a symbol of their love. I copy the gesture, tears burning at the back of my eyes. Down in the champion’s area, Baelen nods to my brother as the other champions leave and he joins them. My brother remains at the edge of the dais until the others have gone. Jordan, Elise, and my Storm Command wait in the wings so I’m not as alone as I’d like to be right now.
