Mareleau did her best to keep her malicious grin at bay. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
After the queen left to find the king, Lurel spoke again, her voice rich with excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait to find out what the object is. Will you give me a clue?”
Mareleau’s eyes dipped to the pair of white earrings dangling from her cousin’s ears. They were delicately pointed at one end and rounded on the other, with just the hint of a spiral pattern. Mareleau had been bitten with envy the moment she’d spotted them. She’d asked Lurel about them and learned the earrings were a gift from Lurel’s father, Lord Kevan. And if Lurel was to be believed, they’d been carved from a piece of bone.
A rare piece of bone.
One belonging to what was a presumed-extinct fae creature.
And if her uncle was to be believed as well, he’d seen it with his own eyes on a hunt up north.
Mareleau’s lips pulled into a smirk. “You, cousin. You’re the hint.”
* * *
Half an hour later,Mareleau stood back on the balcony with her mother and father. The nine princes once again surrounded the marble courtyard, their upturned faces alight with hope. A hope she’d soon crush.
The Master of Ceremonies addressed the audience from below. He thanked their guests and the royal families in attendance, then announced the three champions.
Prince Teryn Alante of Menah.
Prince Helios Dorsus of Norun.
Prince Lexington Quill of Tomas.
Mareleau was particularly curious to learn who she’d chosen as champion and was rewarded with a chubby young man with ruddy cheeks and messy blond hair. His elegant silk coat was buttoned askew and his white neckcloth was tied all wrong. As he made his way to the center of the courtyard next to the other two champions, he looked about as thrilled as he'd be at a funeral. That made two of them. She reined in the laughter that bubbled in her throat and settled on trying to appear moderately pleased instead.
The queen stepped closer to Mareleau and whispered in her ear, “Are you certain that’s the young man you intended to select?”
Mareleau glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “Of course it is.” She caught her father’s grunt of disapproval from the other side of her, which made her smile grow wider.
The crowd applauded, and the Master of Ceremonies called for an encore of the poems. Mareleau made no effort to listen—because why torture herself a second time?—and instead compared her three champions. Prince Lexington was the shortest of the three and the only one who wasn’t smiling. Prince Helios was the tallest, standing about two inches over Teryn. The former was a brute of a man with a barrel chest, tanned arms roped with muscle, and a smug confidence that made Mareleau want to take him down a peg. His hair was bronze and cropped close to his scalp, the planes of his face hard, his jaw shadowed with stubble. If she were to guess, he was at least five years her senior.
Teryn, on the other hand, was just a year older than she was. She knew this because he and Larylis were the same age, both born by their separate mothers the same year. Despite only sharing a father, they looked almost similar enough to be twins. Both were annoyingly handsome with their father’s green eyes, sharp cheekbones, and dark hair. Teryn’s tresses were shorter on the sides and wavy on top, lightly touched with gold, while Larylis’ hair was overlong, curling at the nape of his neck, and glinting copper when touched by light. Larylis was the leaner of the two, although both were tall and broad of shoulder.
Larylis suddenly met her eyes from across the courtyard, making her breath catch in her throat. Her heart hammered as she averted her gaze. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring. It took a few moments longer than she cared to admit to gather her composure, but by the time the last of the three poems were read, she’d replaced her cold countenance.
The Master of Ceremonies congratulated the three champions, then gestured toward the balcony. She knew what came next. His voice took on a dramatic tone. “It is now time for Princess Mareleau to announce the object of her Heart’s Hunt.”
The crowd went quiet and all eyes focused on her. Despite her outward confidence, sweat began to bead at her neck. She hated attention. Hated crowds. But she knew what had to be done. Better yet, she was glad to do it.
Tapping into her make-believe magic, she took a deep breath, doing her best to settle her nerves. She lifted her chin, her chest, standing tall as she focused her intent on shaping an outer persona that radiated poise. Demanded respect. Inspired awe.
She knew her so-called magic trick wasn’t really magic at all. It was only a matter of controlling her demeanor in a way that shifted the perceptions of those around her. Still, people always seemed to respond the way she wanted. Sometimes it curried favor. Garnered sympathy. Won her friends. Other times it brewed hate and discord. The latter was how she’d escaped so many prior engagements. As she took in the audience before her, she saw reflected back that which she intended now. She saw awe, respect, desire, admiration.
She had command of the crowd.
Stepping closer to the rail, she placed her hands on the balustrade and projected her voice out over the garden. “My three champions have been chosen for their love for me,” she said with a false smile. “In one week, the three of you will embark on a dangerous mission in search of my heart's desire.”
Her mother gasped behind her. “One week? The Hunt was supposed to start tonight,” she whispered furiously, but Mareleau ignored her.
“The champion who returns first with what I demand will prove he loves me most and will, in turn, receive my hand in marriage. What I ask for is rare and will put its seeker in grave danger. You must accomplish the Heart’s Hunt without the aid of hired help, professional hunters, or the accompaniment of servants and guards. He who has the determination and skill to persevere is the one worth my hand. Listen carefully to what I ask, for you must bring me exactly what I demand.”
“Mareleau,” King Verdian drew out her name in a whisper laced with warning, but she ignored that too.
“For the Heart’s Hunt, you must find me three unicorns. From the first unicorn, I require a horn. From the second, its pelt. And the third will be my pet. No item shall be purchased or traded for. It must be freshly harvested by your own hand. I wish you three the best of luck, and may the worthiest man win.”
Stunned silence followed. She assessed the faces of the crowd. Some looked mortified while others bore half smiles, as if they expected her to laugh and take it all back.
