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Two carriages rolled toward us. Each carriage was painted a jewel green and were decorated with gold embellishments, like Christmas trees. Two sparkling white horses pulled each carriage. Apparently, horses were not too much of a luxury for the Solamites. Prince Granier, in all his sparkly, pretty boy glory, emerged from the first carriage with a small entourage of guards and finely dressed women. Princess Jonier and Prince Leonel emerged from the second carriage with their own supply of courtiers. Jonier’s face was hard as stone. I supposed that for her, either result was a loss. Her son could lose his throne, or worse, he could be saddled with a very inferior wife—a tri-mix no less.

Lyric shivered once next to me. “That woman gives me the creeps.”

I nodded. “It’s not just you. I’ve had the displeasure of meeting her, and she might be one of the least charming people I’ve ever encountered.”

Madigan laughed. “If that isn’t the gentlest way to say the woman is a first-class bitch.”

We all had a laugh, and it felt good to relieve some of the tension building in my body. The arrival of the royal families made the whole competition far too real.

“I don’t see a Solamite fighter yet,” Lyric noted. Right then, next to Granier, a flurry of glittery sparkles swirled through the air before taking shape into a solid glittering cloud, and then boom—a man stood next to Granier. He was wearing merely a drop-sleeved shirt, breeches and boots. His long black hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, and his boots had been shined to a high gloss. A long sword hung at his side.

“Is that—” I started.

“That’s Kelto. Mr. Invisible,” Madigan continued.

I looked over at Madigan. “He must weigh a fifth of what Greshun weighs.”

“Yes, but he’s good with that sword, and he’s fast on his feet,” Austri said. “And he can pop in and out of view and disorient that big fool, Greshun.”

“So, what you’re saying is I’m going to be stuck with the Ice Queen as my mother-in-law.”

Lyric put a supportive arm around my shoulder and even leaned her head against it. My throat tightened, like it had a million times in the last few days.

A throat cleared behind us. We looked back. Coda, the elderly hall keeper, stood on the next riser up. His gnarled fingers grasped what I assumed was a copy of the official decree. “Raphael Willow, the Triumvirate has requested your presence on the viewing dais. Please follow me.”

“Couldn’t I just stay here with my friends?” I asked.

His glower assured me that would not be happening. I hugged Lyric. Madigan and Austri patted my arm as I climbed over our bench. Coda was not exactly athletic, so it took us an unbearably long time to reach the platform where the four chairs had been placed. My stomach lurched at the notion that I would have to view the whole fight with the sorcerers nearby.

Coda politely pointed out the smaller, less fancy chair, as if worried an uninformed villager like myself might attempt to sit on one of the exalted chairs. As I sat down, there was some activity below in the seats. Conversations grew louder and more agitated, and people stood to look at something on the road.

I discovered then that I had the premier viewing spot. I stood up and was able to look past even some of the tallest heads. I stared in disbelief at the scene below. Coming up the road were wagons and donkeys and people on foot. It was the Valians, the whole darn town from the looks of it, and in front was the breathtaking warrior who had stolen not just my breath but my heart and my soul. His deadly ax leaned casually against his shoulder. His long hair had been pulled back and tied off with a leather strap.

Lyric raced up the risers, elbowing her way through spectators and returning any angry scowls with one of her own. “Do you see him? I knew he hadn’t forgotten you. I just knew it.” The courthouse door opened and Roh appeared. “Oh, wow, I better get back down to the peasant seats.” She leaned over, kissed my forehead and tromped back down to her seat.

Austri turned back and smiled at me. The stinker had known this was going to happen. That must have been the secret Madigan and Austri were sharing.

While it was nice to see that Revel hadn’t disregarded me completely, there was little he could do to change my fate. I was to be handed off as a prize to one prince today, and that was the end of it.

Everyone got to their feet as the three sorcerers climbed to the dais. Fren waved his long white fingers, and everyone sat. The Valians had no place to sit, so they stood around the far side of the fight circle. Revel kept walking, right through the center of the circle and past the two competitors who’d taken a bench on each side of the ring.

Everyone watched as the Valian warrior came closer, some with slack jaws and others murmuring quietly behind their hands.

“Revel Greyhart,” Roh’s voice was low but deep. “You must move out of the fight arena and have your people step back. This fight does not concern them.”

“You’re wrong … my lordship,” he added quickly. “Raphael Willow is already our princess. We do not want her to leave Norvale. We need her with us at home, and I am prepared to fight in this competition.” Gasps and grumbles made their way around the risers. I was too busy holding back tears and keeping my heart from falling out of my chest.

“That is impossible,” Roh said. “She has not been fated to you or anyone in Norvale. This is between Regnarmoor and Solamere.”

“Your decree is in front of you. Please, if you would be so good as to read it aloud,” Revel said. He had not an ounce of fear standing in front of a trio of men who could easily throw him in their dungeon, the Tribunal Vault, with another decree.

Roh seemed hesitant to follow an order from someone like Revel, but he unrolled the parchment and stood up.

“On this day, each region will send their best warrior here to the Tribunal for a fight. We will allow seating for spectators. The warriors will be allowed to use whatever skills and powers they have, and if the fight is to the death, then so be it. Raphael will be handed over to the winning region.” He sat back down.

“There is nothing specifying which regions may participate,” Revel said. “Each region will send their best warrior, and I am here to represent Norvale.”

The grumbles and mumbles turned to loud protests and yelling. Roh had not brought his gavel with him, instead, he raised his hand. A gold ball of light floated up from it and then exploded loudly over the stands. All conversations and complaints stopped, and everyone looked toward the platform. I’d been keeping low, hoping I wasn’t noticed up there on the side stage. I was torn between wanting badly for them to allow Revel to fight and worrying that something might happen to him. Greshun was a beast and Kelto had his magic.