I give her a grateful smile and return my attention to the dais.
Brother Viktor opens his eyes and extends his hands. “Contestants, welcome to our humble pageant. I am Father Viktor, priest of the Lumenas branch of the Church of Saint Lazaro. To my right is Brother Billius, and to my left is someone I know you are all very excited to meet, Brother Dorian of the Order of Strength.”
I haven’t a clue what the Order of Strength means, only that Nimue made it sound like a bad thing. I’m curious why neither Viktor nor Billius were announced as belonging to any Order, but the priest doesn’t bother explaining. He pauses and gestures toward Dorian. I expect him to acknowledge us now that he’s been introduced, but he doesn’t.
“The brotherhood is very grateful for all of you to join us,” Father Viktor says, “and I’m sure you are eager to hear how our contest will work. Firstly, let’s take a moment to acknowledge our seven contestants and give each of you a chance to greet Brother Dorian.” He pauses as Brother Billius hands him his notebook. Meanwhile, Glint McCreedy and Sam Sputnik race down the aisle. The photographer sets his camera on a tripod between the two front pews while the reporter crouches at the base of the dais. Viktor scans Billius’ notebook and gestures to the frontmost pew opposite me. “Josie Richmond.”
A girl with mousy brown hair slowly rises from her pew. Her lips are pressed tight to suppress a blushing grin as she makes her way up the dais to stand before Dorian. For the first time since arriving on the dais, he moves. Loosely taking her gloved fingers in his, he bends down and plants a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Josie Richmond,” he says, voice so soft I hardly hear it. He pauses with her hand still clasped in his, and the camera bulb flares. Once the light dims, he releases her and gestures for her to return to her seat.
Next, Father Viktor calls up the girl sitting behind Josie. “Franny Delafonte.”
She approaches the dais with far less enthusiasm than her predecessor. She doesn’t even bother with a smile as Dorian kisses her hand, and when they pause for the camera, she tenses.
Then it’s the next girl’s turn. “Agnes Breene,” Viktor announces.
A kiss on the hand. A flash of the bulb.
Then the next.
“Greta Garter.”
Greta is the pretty woman with the overly puffed sleeves. Her skirts swish as she strolls up to the dais. When she stops before Dorian, she lowers into an elegant curtsy. “I’m so honored to be here,” she says in a sing-song voice, then offers her gloved hand with a flourish. I’m stunned when I see a corner of Dorian’s lips flick up with amusement. Before now, his face remained as somber as a man at a funeral. The expression is quickly steeled as he kisses her hand. When he angles himself slightly toward the camera, Greta steps in scandalously close. She puckers her lips, tilting her head slightly down. Then she releases Dorian’s hand and strikes a couple poses next to him, hands on her hips, then one patting her hair. Dorian steps back and allows her to claim the camera’s attention on her own. He rolls his eyes, and that hint of a smile returns to his lips. For some reason, the sight of it sends my stomach fluttering.
“Very good,” Viktor says when it’s clear she won’t leave the dais without intervention. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he guides her down the steps. With a nervous chuckle, he turns his attention to the front pew of my row. “Vanessa Courter.”
The girl in front of me rises with her head held high and stops several feet before Dorian, greeting him with a nod. With stiff, formal moves, she offers Dorian her hand, a model of feminine propriety. This time I’m the one doing the eye-rolling. I don’t bother to watch as she poses next to him for the camera, nor do I acknowledge her smug expression when she sits back down in front of me.
“Princess Maisie of the Sea Court,” Viktor says.
That gets my attention. My heart leaps into my throat as all eyes round on me. Vanessa gasps as she whirls in her seat. I’m certain it has everything to do with theprincesspart of my name. Shells. More unwanted attention.
“Go,” Podaxis mutters.
On trembling legs, I rise and head up the aisle. Glint McCreedy shadows my every step, scribbling in his notebook at a rapid pace. My eyes lock on Dorian’s as I climb the dais. I study his face, seeking any sign that he recognizes me, that he knows I’m the one who rescued him. But his expression betrays nothing. There’s only grim politeness in his bearing as he takes my gloved hand. Even with fabric between us, I stiffen at the feel of his touch. He bends forward. I find myself frozen as I watch his lips descend upon the back of my hand, a black curl falling over his forehead. My nose twitches. Once. Twice. It’s that feeling again, the strange tickle I get when I want to steal something. What the shells? He straightens, and that black curl remains over his forehead as our eyes meet.
“Pleased to meet you, Princess Maisie,” he says. Where before I could hardly hear his voice when he greeted the other girls, I now hear it clearly. It’s deep, rumbling. Another twitch of my nose—
With a heave, I sneeze. Too late, I snatch away my hand to cover my nose and mouth. He takes a startled step back. Right then, the light of the flash bulb flares. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He blinks a few times. Then a corner of his mouth flicks up. “It’s all right,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Mortified, I rush down the dais and return to my pew. I can’t bring myself to watch as Briony Rose is called up next. “I sneezed on him,” I mutter to Podaxis. “I sneezed on him and everyone saw.” Even I know that’s a social misdeed.
Podaxis taps my thigh. “It’s what he gets for hurling seawater in your face.”
His words aren’t even a little consoling. I battle the urge to slump in my pew and disappear into the Twelfth Court.
Briony Rose returns to her seat, and Father Viktor speaks again. “Now that you’ve all been formally introduced, let us proceed with rules. If you would like to win the heart of Brother Dorian, you must be the last remaining contestant at the end of the final Blessing Ceremony. There are seven of you, and our pageant will last seven days. Our first Blessing Ceremony will be tomorrow, during which the first elimination will be made. One contestant will be sent home each night from then on, with the final elimination resulting in our winner. Until you are eliminated, you must remain on church grounds and not leave the premises. Outside of your dates with Brother Dorian, the Blessing Ceremonies, or any other official pageant events, you will be confined to the women’s wing inside the church. This is to protect the sanctity of the space our brothers are used to living in. Do not worry, though. All meals will be brought to you, and we have done our best to make your bedrooms comfortable.”
“Trapped in a church,” Briony mutters. “Sounds like I left the convent for nothing.”
“Blessing Ceremonies will be open to the public,” Viktor continues, “and group events will be documented by our guest reporter, Glint McCreedy. Tonight, all contestants will dine together as a chance to get to know one another. Tomorrow, each of you will be allotted one hour to spend with Brother Dorian. It will be a chaperoned visit and will take place inside the church in either the library, the garden, or the parlor, per Brother Dorian’s preference. More of these hour-long visits will occur throughout the week and will allow Dorian to get to know the contestants on a personal level and help him narrow down his choice of bride. Each day you can expect either a group event or the aforementioned individual dates. At the conclusion of this pageant, the wedding will commence.”
“You mean, right away?” Vanessa asks.
Father Viktor opens his mouth to answer, but Greta Garter speaks first. “That’s how these things work, darling. Have you never participated in one before?”
Vanessa ignores Greta and whispers to her chaperone, “I don’t even have a wedding dress picked out.”
