The sweet smell of old-growth forest surrounds me, and the dried leaves of autumn rustle in the breeze from where they’re stuck to spindly tree branches.
In front of me is a dark entrance, portal-like, through a copse of trees. Behind me, a ways off from the carriage, is the chatter of a crowd.
Bram is surrounded by Rhion and a few other courtiers I vaguely recognize from England. Emmett stands among them, looking remote, no trace of what he just did on his face. Behind them are a few dozen more faeries, gathered around cocktail tables, laughing behind insect-wing fans. A few are already drunk.
And beyond them are the stands. They’re packed with faerieswho sit shoulder to shoulder, their voices blending together in a roar.
To my left is a carriage identical to the one I just stumbled out of, and next to it is my sister. “Lydia—” I whisper, but Bram walks toward us and interrupts us with a hearty laugh.
“My girls!” he declares with a smile. He snaps and a footman steps forward with two long swords. Bram takes them and passes them to us in turn.
It’s so heavy, I nearly stumble to the ground upon grasping it. It’s got a thick hilt, inlaid with rubies that shine like beetle carapaces. The body of the sword is strictly utilitarian. A long blade spanning almost the entire length of my legs, sharp enough that its delicate edge catches the morning sunlight.
He turns to face the crowd, who go wild. “In the woods there is a creature that has been marked on its haunches with my coat of arms. The first person to bring me its body will be declared the winner.” His voice must be enchanted; it booms like thunder over the clearing.
Bram raises a hand as they cheer. “I’m sorry we had to wait so long for such merrymaking. I know having two humans in charge was dull. But never fear, I’m back!”
Lydia and I glance anxiously at each other. Bram looks between us both like we’re extraordinarily slow. “Go on,” he commands under his breath.
“I’d like to make a request,” I blurt.
Bram nods. “I suppose that’s characteristic. What is it?”
“If I win this trial, I’d like you to let Marion and Faith out of the dungeons. Treat them like the guests they are. They won’t run.”
Bram considers for a moment. “You know I love a deal.”
“You agree, then?”
He nods. “Bring me the creature’s body and your friends may have better accommodations.”
“Say it again, say it better,” I command, wary of a faerie trick.
“If you bring me the creature’s body, your friends may move into the castle guest rooms.”
“On the same floor as me.”
“Fine.”
“Tonight.”
Bram shrugs. “Fair enough.”
I spare one last look at Emmett, who is chatting casually with Rhion and the rest of them.
Look at me,I will, staring daggers into the side of his head, but he remains decidedly casual.
“Let us begin!” Bram claps and the trees themselves shake and groan, their leaves falling to the ground like gentle rain.
Emmett’s eyes flit to Lydia, who stands a few yards to my left.
“Good luck,” he mutters.
She smiles at him, like there’s no one in the world she’s more comfortable with, and in that moment I hate them both with a fury so hot, I’m eager to pick up my sword. I want to turn to the nearest tree and start hacking and screaming until the anger inside of me is burned up.
The crowd is so loud my ears have begun to ring.
Without any further fanfare, I step into the woods. If Emmett was also going to tell me good luck, I’m not around to hear it.
