“And Irridain has held it all these years,” Lore mused, rubbing his chin.
“Exactly.”
“Then why allow anyone else to take it, even if only for a short time?” I asked.
Was Lore thinking the same thing as me? We didn’t want to compete in some silly fete, but it was only three days. We’d have two left after that. With the pendant in hand, we could end the curse. Assuming we could win. The fates, as always, were playing games with our lives. I'd curse them outright if they hadn't sent us vague help since we started on this quest to free Lore.
“I suspect the fete is less about loaning the pendant for one wish granted,” Dorion said. “And more about identifying which noble line is magically compatible with the pendant. As I said, the pendant has grown temperamental; its power no longer activates reliably for Irridain’s bloodline. The queen must worry that if its sentience is rejecting them, the magic could be slipping away. If it performs for someone else and under controlled terms such asthis, it allows them to decide if a political marriage or alliance should take place to preserve their legacy.”
Dorion shifted forward and studied us both for a moment. “Laphira’s husband is dead.”
I stiffened. “You think the queen is offering the pendant to find a new husband for the princess.” It wasn’t a question. I could feel it falling into place, a knot in the weave of a plan we hadn’t seen forming.
Irritation churned through me. After everything we'd been through, after clawing my way back from shadow and death, they were dangling our salvation in front of us like a prize at a carnival.
“Not out in the open,” Dorion said. “I could be wrong about that. The Laphira I used to know wouldn’t allow herself to be used to form an alliance. And Irridain’s court would never tolerate a spectacle that might result in her marrying someone they wouldn't choose to form a treaty with. But her mother is someone completely different. Laphira’s…softer, I guess you could say. Back when I knew her, she was a fragile flower trying to bloom in a nest of thorns. They’re saying the fete is to show strength, give the viewers a spectacle, and facilitate diplomacy. Unofficially…” He sent his gaze toward the hearth, half-lit with shadowy flames.
“They want to see who the pendant favors,” Lore said slowly.
Dorion grunted. “If the featherdorn responds to someone outside their bloodline, someone they could marry Laphira off to, then they’ll know the line weakening isn’t a theory but truth. It could be a signal the magic is drifting, rejecting the family.”
“They’reusingthe competitors,” I said.
Dorion’s eyes met mine. “Exactly.”
“And if it chooses someone, if it flares or hums or does whatever it does when it’s working, they’ll know who to watch. Even if they don't offer a marriage or some other type of alliance right away.”
“Even if they despise the winner,” Dorion said. “Who will have to watch their back.”
Lore didn’t flinch, though I felt his tension in the twitch of his arm. “They’re luring the pendant’s potential next bond out into the open.”
I hadn’t realized how deeply I hated the word “bond” until now. The idea of someone else being tied to that talisman, no matter the cost to us, made my blood boil.
They weren’t only offering a prize. They were manipulating fate like it was a game.
“And creating a field of rivals at the same time,” Dorion said. “Imagine being the one granted a wish. The dreams it could unearth. Someone might feel chosen by the pendant. I doubt they’d hand it back and walk away quietly.”
“Unless,” I said, blinking, “they’re planning to use it for something they haven’t told anyone or alluded to.”
“Such as?” Lore asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve discovered many of the fae ruling class are after one thing only: personal power.”
Lore nodded. “That’s sadly true.”
Dorion's expression shifted, becoming almost smug. “I entered the three of us in the competition.” His mouth curved into that slick smile again. “Under different names, of course.”
“You did what?” I sat forward.
“I may have taken some liberties.” Dorion stood and executed an elaborate bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’ll attend the fete as Lord Vikire.” He gestured to us with a flourish. “And his dear friends, the wedded couple Lord Rutherford and Lady Bliss, will compete along with him.”
Lore stared at him. “You did this without asking us first?”
“That's not the point.”
Lore's expression darkened further. “The point is that you'vecommitted my wife to deadly games without her consent. Without mine.”
“I committed Lord Rutherford and Lady Bliss,” Dorion said carefully. “Not the King and Queen of Evergorne Court. They’re rather reclusive. I’m sure the queen allowed them entrance because she’s curious. It’s the best scenario since few will know them well enough to note odd mannerisms or dress.”
