I said nothing. There seemed to be no good answer.
“Wise,” Rhiannon said of my silence. “Well, soon you’ll know all of what we value. Your training for the trials begins on the morrow.”
Beside me, Dorian exhaled hard through his nostrils.
My eyes snapped to hers. “Training?”
Her fingers tapped in rhythm on the wicker, pinky to index finger. “How else do you suppose you’ll survive to become my court champions?”
Her champions. That meant?—
Queens and diadems and whose boot rests on whoseneck.
I glanced at Dorian. His eyes remained unfocused, elsewhere. But I basically had the gist of it.
“We’re in competition,” I said, low and slow, “with whoever else enters the Sylvanwild trials.”
Rhiannon inclined her head, eyebrows lifting.
“Those who fail, die,” I said, low and slow. “Those who succeed become your champions in something greater.”
Her blue eyes flashed, and now I understood why Dorian would not look at me, why she carried such amusement on her lips.
Why we were fucked.
I was human—deadweight. I had no chance of passing these trials, whatever they might entail. Dorian had said it himself: he was three times as strong and twice as fast as me. No doubt that was true of every other fae.
This was some kind of cosmic joke. On me, on Dorian. In partnering us, the spiritstag had condemned us to death.
A purgatory after all.
“When do these trials begin?” I asked.
“When the spiritstag wills it. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a week from now.” Rhiannon’s eyebrows arched, and one hand rose to smooth her braid. Maybe she sensed how my stomach had fallen out of my body and onto her bearskin. “Do you desire to be my champion, girl?”
My eyes lifted to meet hers. Best speak truth, now that I was a dead woman. “What choice do I have?”
Her head tilted a degree. Yes, that was a flicker of surprise across her face. “Truth again. But do youdesireit?” Her tone, her crisp blue eyes, demanded something from me—some affirmation.
I could only say what I felt. “I would rather this than be forced to run like a rabbit.”
“Is that what you promised her, Dorian?” Rhiannon nodded toward me. “To be hunted?”
Dorian stirred, finally seemed to return to the room. His facelifted even as her brow lowered. “I promised her only what we promise every human brought to Sylvanwild.”
Every human.I was not the first, or perhaps the only in that battle. But I had been the only one in that wagon, and I didn’t know why.
I couldn’t hold back. I had to know.
“Tell me why you attacked my kingdom.” I hated the plea in my voice. “Tell me why you took me.”
Rhiannon’s attention shifted off of Dorian and she no longer smoothed her braid. Her hands lowered to both bramble arms of her chair and her spine straightened. As she grew, I felt smaller. “Demands are the realm of monarchs and children. If you want me to consider you a woman, then you will speak to me as a queen.”
Fresh anger curled in my chest. This time, I spoke into it. “Tell me why you attacked my kingdom, Queen Rhiannon.”
Her lip curled. We gazed at each other, unblinking. “I don’t think I will.”
The anger ignited, blazing into my neck and cheeks. “Then why should I desire to be the champion of a court of murderers and thieves?”
