There was a buzz in the castle as Theo strode toward the royal family’s dining hall. It was the final day of the tournament, and the stands were sure to be packed to capacity.
Theo had theoretically made it through to the final round of the weapons combat, but he didn’t feel much sense of achievement. He knew he hadn’t faced any of the best fighters yet. He should withdraw, he’d known it for some time.
It was all so pointless, all just politics. He’d seen how highly skilled fighters had withdrawn rather than facing certain high-ranking opponents, Lord Bertrand among them, curse him.
Theo had been struggling to decide on the best time to drop out as he was expected to do. Before the event actually started, he’d planned to drop out fairly early to avoid embarrassment for everyone given he couldn’t match the impressive swordplay he’d seen from some of the young noblemen. Then, after he’dwatched people dropping out and realized the results were never going to be accurate, it had made him even more motivated to drop out, because he didn’t want to win any fight he thought his opponent had lost on purpose.
But watching Lord Bertrand rise through the ranks, often through forfeiture rather than actual skill, had tested that resolve. And so he was still in. He needed to rectify that before the finals started. He had to stop letting his personal anger toward Lord Bertrand affect the betrothal tournament.
The jealousy he felt was weakness enough, but the worst of it was that it wasn’t the main thing. It was agony to think that Elowen didn’t want him, that she preferred Lord Bertrand’s attention. The viscount was so pathetic to Theo that any preference for him on Elowen’s part should have made Theo think less of the princess. But it didn’t. It just filled him with pain at his own inability to win her favor. Just the thought of how much he wanted her affection sent fear spiraling through him, potent and paralyzing and a weakness he couldn’t afford.
Theo had almost reached the dining hall when he suddenly remembered something he’d been told the night before. All competitors in the final round had been invited to breakfast with the royal family before the last event began. He slowed his steps, unsure if he could handle sharing a meal with Lord Bertrand in his current mood.
It was too late to avoid encountering him, however. The viscount’s voice reached Theo’s ears as he rounded the final corner. The scene before him caused Theo to draw back, watching through narrow eyes as Lord Bertrand grabbed his servant by the arm.
Simeon. The one who was somehow mixed up in the chaos with the magic, and somehow had Elowen on his side such that she wouldn’t believe him capable of anything questionable.
“How dare you?” Lord Bertrand was saying in an angry hiss that carried much further than he seemed to realize. “How dare you go behind my back to sign up for the event? I saw you, Simeon. Iheardyou. Reading out the rules of the event, as cool as if you were an emperor. You are nothing without my family, Simeon, we are the only reason you’re standing in a royal castle right now. How dare you throw our generosity in my face?”
Simeon’s face was blank, too blank. Whatever he was holding in, it was strong enough that he knew he could never take it back if he let it out. Theo was debating whether to intervene when soft footsteps sounded behind him. He turned to see Elowen hurry into sight, her expression tense as she also took in the scene just outside the dining hall.
But there wasn’t much more to see. Lord Bertrand seemed to have come to his senses regarding his surroundings, and was compelling his servant to move toward the castle’s entrance. Theo let some of the tension drain out of him, turning his attention to Elowen.
She looked like she’d slept as much as he had. Her hair wasn’t as tightly pinned as usual, her eyes were a little red, and her lips were pale.
She remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on.
Heart heavy, he broke the silence between them. “What a charming display before breakfast.”
Elowen jumped, her eyes widening as they found him. “Theo. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Do you know what that was about?” Theo asked her.
She nodded, biting her lip in concern. The movement drew his eyes.
“The maids were gossiping about it, that’s why I hurried here. Lord Bertrand is apparently very angry with Simeon because he forbade Simeon to sign up for the craftsmen’scompetition, but he did it anyway. Lord Bertrand just found out.”
“Why would he not want his servant to compete?” Theo asked. “And why did Simeon defy him?”
Elowen winced. “For the second one, I think I goaded him into it, although it wasn’t my intention. As for why Lord Bertrand wouldn’t want him competing, well.” She shrugged, the motion like flicking off an irksome fly. “He doesn’t like Simeon drawing attention to himself or his extraordinary skill. That makes it harder for everyone to forget that Bertrand deserves none of the credit he always claims for it.”
Theo raised an eyebrow at her tone. There was something especially bitter in it, which seemed quite the turnaround from the night before.
“Why was he so angry about Simeon reading out the rules of the competition?”
“Was he?” Elowen’s voice was a murmur now. “I wondered…that must be what Sophia meant.” After a moment, she realized he was waiting expectantly, and hastened to explain. “Sophia told me she knew she could convince Simeon to teach us magic because he owed her. I think she taught him to read, without Bertrand knowing.”
“I thought Simeon had been educated at the duke’s expense,” Theo said, lost.
Elowen’s lip curled in contempt. “Yes, that’s what everyone thinks. But Bertrand took charge of coordinating that education, and he specifically wanted to keep Simeon from becoming literate. I imagine he knew it would open opportunities for Simeon that might tempt him out of the family’s employ and therefore out of Bertrand’s reach.”
Theo hadn’t thought his opinion of Lord Bertrand could sink further, but he’d been wrong. What a short-sighted, self-centered fool. And yet he was more acceptable to Elowen than he was?
“You don’t have high standards, do you?” The words slipped out before he could moderate himself.
“What?” Elowen looked cautiously up at him.
“I know now that you’re willing to be pleased,” Theo said, his voice curt as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. “I suppose I can only regret that I’m so unappealing.”
