But that seemed too easy. In fact, all of it seemed too easy. Ever since I’d laid eyes on the Everstone back in the arena, my stomach had tangled into knots. There it was, the elusive gem that held the power I’d coveted for so many years. All I had to do was win the dwarven competition, something I’d already planned to do. And it would be mine.
No hunting the mines. No following Astrid during her daily tasks. No coaxing out information with encouraging smiles and witty banter that made her face light up and that tinkling laugh fall from her lips. Fates, that laugh was a gorgeous thing.
But nevermind that. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right…
“Surprised you put your tent here instead of outside my cottage so you could spy on me all day and night,” called out Astrid, her lilting voice almost singing to the tune of the bells jingling in her hair.
She stepped into the cave and looked around. A few other strangers to the mountain—spectators from the other Isles—had packed into the space as well. There were about a hundred of us in total, building fires, cooking food, and sharing whatever supplies we’d brought with us. Some had even hung their banners on their tents to signify who they supported this year. It made it all feel a bit festive.
I slung my hands into my trouser pockets and crossed the distance between us. “What an excellent idea. Would you like to help me move my tent?”
She laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners. My chest lifted.
“Guess there’s no need for that anymore, eh? The bloomin’ gem’s been found.”
“Yes,” I said, frowning. “About that.”
She squinted at me. “You’ve got that look on your face again. The same expression you had when Jostein revealed the Everstone. I thought you’d be thrilled Rockheim found it.”
“It’s a lovely coincidence,” I said. “Like the gods themselves lined things up just for me.”
Or you.
I didn’t want to alarm Astrid, but some of my unease was very much originating from her direction. She had not entered the competition herself. At first, I’d thought little of it. Anyone could have put forth her name. Someone might believe in her more than she believed in herself and thought she was worthy of a win. Or maybe someone was playing a prank. They thought it would be funny to see her flail around. Why? Maybe she’d annoyed the wrong person years ago, and they were just now getting their revenge.
But then the Everstone had appeared. Everyone knew Astrid was desperate for the stone. I’d already heard dozens of dwarves talking about it. And it just so happened to be the champion’sprize the same year she’d been entered against her will. What were the bloody odds of that?
She scrunched her cute little nose. “Now that you say it like that, it does sound strange. The same year you enter is the same year the champion’s prize is the stone.”
Gods, she could have taken the words right out of my head. Only she was talking about me, and I was talking about her.
“Unnerving, right?”
“Very.” She frowned. “What do you make of it?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I turned and gestured toward the circle of tents. Altan and Meral had made themselves scarce, though I had a feeling they were lurking close enough to eavesdrop on every word Astrid and I exchanged.
Nosy bastards.
Astrid followed me to the campfire and plopped down on the log Altan had been using as a chair. She held out her hands, warming herself on the fire. The flames cast an orange glow across her face that matched the gorgeous shade of her hair.
I blinked and cleared my throat. “I’m surprised you came.”
She shrugged. “You said you had cake.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Chuckling, I pulled the wrapped cake from my pack and tossed it her way. She caught it one-handed and had it unwrapped before I’d managed to take a seat. Her eyes widened at the creamy frosting and the rich crimson cake.
“Bloomin’ fates. What isthis?” she breathed.
“Red Demon Cake with buttermilk frosting. Try it. You’ll love it.”
She bit into the cake without hesitation, frosting coating her upper lip. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she moaned. “This is amazing. You have to give me the recipe.”
“Gladly,” I said. “Though you won’t find most of the ingredients under the mountain.”
Her face fell. She wiped the frosting off her lip. “Of course not.”
“Sorry. You could still make it, but it’ll require a trip above ground to trade with the sailors or the other Isles,” I said.
