I accepted it. It was leather and light. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
I pulled the twine tie and the leather blossomed open in my palm to reveal an assemblage of herbs.
“Ground nightleaf,” she said. “Thornroot. A drop of ambervine.”
In my palm, the scent of the herbs rose up—sharp, biting, suffused with a floral tang. Before I could stop myself, my gaze shifted to Dorian. I hated myself for that instinct.
He grunted. “It’s good. Rhiannon will have those in her body when the duel begins.”
“What does it do?”
“It numbs pain,” he said. “The herbs will keep your head clear when she tries to break your focus.”
“Don’t take too much unless you want to see the gods,” Faun said.
My gaze lifted to her. “Why help me?”
She began to pace. “Rhiannon leads with her right hand at the start of any fight, but her left wrist is stronger. She’ll switch eventually, and if you live that long, that’s when you’ll know she’s no longer holding back.”
I stared. I listened.
“When she spins, don’t chase her blade. Let her spin. If you must, step in. Drive upward.”
“I was told no sword would win me the duel.”
Faun’s eyes sharpened on Dorian. “How little you’ve prepared her.”
Dorian let out a hard breath. “We’ve been short on time, and we were interrupted.”
She continued pacing. “It won’t win you the duel, but you don’t want your blade to lose you it, either.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Someone explain the rules to me.”
Faun and Dorian met gazes. He noddedonce at her. “The Thorn Rite is more than just a fight to the death,” she said. “It’s proof of queenship. First you’ll start with bows. If you both survive, you’ll draw blades. And should you survive that, you’ll use your magic.”
“A queen who cannot survive a bow or a blade cannot rule,” Dorian said. “Only she who can wield all three and prevail may claim sovereignty.”
Faun’s eyes closed. Those were words she had heard before.
Bow, blade, and magic. And I couldn’t even use the third.
How could I possibly win?
“If I understand you right,” I said, “then she’s the best in the court with a bow.”
“None better,” Faun said. “Your best hope is to survive it. You must always think. Improvise.”
Think. Improvise.
I was good at that, at least.
“And if I survive the blade,” I said, “then I must use magic. But I can’t even…”
“You can,” Faun said, turning fully toward me. “I saw it in the cave. I saw what shouldn’t be. Do you not feel it?”
The cave, the waterfall, the Sylvanwild magic. I began, slowly, “I’ve seensomethingin the air since the day I entered this place. I see it all around us, even now.”
