Chapter Twenty-Four
The guards lead me back to the big tent. I’m relieved to see that my grandparents aren’t there; the tent is empty. I shoot the men questioning looks but they ignore me as we wait inside.
Footsteps passing outside the tent in a steady rhythm tell me that the other houses are gathering near the cliffs for whatever grand ceremony kicks off the tournament.
I can only guess that my grandparents are waiting there to announce their champion.
It still doesn’t quite make sense to me.
Even if I did use to have control over my magic, control and memories I no longer possess, it’s an awfully big assumption that I’ll be skilled enough to beat fae from all the houses, or that I’ll go along with their plan to try to steal the throne from the Queen.
Yes, the champions named by each house must compete, but that doesn’t mean I have to try to win.
Why would they think I’d support them and willingly go against the Queen when I’ve been on the run for eight years? Something just doesn’t add up.
An eternity seems to pass as I wait. I sneak a glance out of the tent when one of the guards looks out from behind the flap.
The sun has almost vanished at this point, only a tinge of flame to the twilight outside.
My heart beats erratically in my chest. I’m about to walk out in front of all those people.
Will the Queen be there? I have to give my kin a little credit…
the hubris it takes to invoke an ancient tournament and openly challenge the reigning monarch is impressive. Impressive or completely insane.
And then someone bustles through from outside, another guard, summoning us. My time is up.
One of the guards pulls the flap of the tent back and I step through.
A massive crowd waits outside, lined up along that narrow strip of space down the center of the valley.
A path, a walkway to the cliffs. Or to the gallows, as it were.
Might as well be, because it cinches my fate.
A low murmur susurrates over the crowd as I come into view.
I am flanked by a guard on each side, one in front, and one behind.
We turn and begin to walk toward the cliffs, the ocean, and the last glowing orb of the setting sun.
Beautiful eyes stare at me, gazes heavy as I pass between them.
Eyes narrowed with hate. Eyes that radiate cold fury or blazing disgust. Someone even spits in my direction, and it lands just shy of my boots.
My heart pounds louder than the waves hitting the cliffs.
I keep my head high, but my expression neutral.
They all think I chose this. I want to scream, to spill the truth to everyone watching. Judging. Plotting for my downfall.
It’s the longest walk of my life, even though it’s not more than a hundred feet.
A few feet from the cliff’s edge, my grandparents stand between the two walls of people, surrounded by a dozen of their own guards.
When I reach their side, they barely look at me.
I am only a pawn in this sick game of theirs, this grab for power.
They can’t possibly believe this will end in their favor. Can they?
“Great houses of Aureon,” my grandmother calls, her voice carrying confidently and easily across the crowd.
“House Harkyn has exercised its right, by ancient law, to invoke the tournament of Erys Lumena. The tournament begins once the sun sets, and each house has declared their champion. We will ask the tournament council to read the rules of the tournament for all to hear.”
A short, full-figured woman steps forward from the crowd.
I can tell instantly that she is different from the others.
She is not tall and beautiful like the fae, but she does not seem entirely human, either.
I can tell from the aura of magic around her, and something in her features.
Her eyes, her ears, her skin, everything seems slightly off.
She looks old enough to have been there at the very first tournament…
the fae certainly live for centuries, millennia even, so I suppose it’s possible.
I expect her voice to be soft and wizened, but when she speaks, her voice carries clear and bell-like across the valley.
“Houses of Aureon, you have gathered at Corla Arnan Vor to participate in the tournament of Erys Lumena. This tournament is bound by ancient magic, and therefore each of you who participate are bound by this ancient magic. You must abide by the rules which follow, or you will suffer dire consequences as a result of that magic.”
She pauses here, her sharp gaze sweeping the crowd, as if challenging someone to contradict her.
“As declared, House Harkyn has challenged each of you to battles both physical and magical. There will be four tournament challenges. The first challenge will take place tomorrow at dawn, in this same location. The nature of each challenge is at the discretion of the council, and will not be shared in advance.”
A slight murmur of dismay ripples across the crowd at this news, but I keep my eyes fixed on the woman before me.
“Every royal house in Aureon must participate when the Erys Lumena tournament is invoked, other than the ruling house being challenged. The ruling house will compete in a final test with the winner of the tournament. Champions are chosen for each house, as well as a second. These champions, both first and second, cannot withdraw, unless by death. The winner of the tournament must win three out of four contests, and then best the champion of the ruling house in the fifth challenge. The winner of the fifth and final challenge assumes control of the throne of Aureon.”
Silence falls, so thick that the waves sound like they’re crashing directly in my ears.
It seems so archaic to let something as trivial as a tournament decide the fate of the whole world.
How can this be happening? How did my human relatives find this loophole of ancient rules and magic that allows them to challenge the Queen for her throne?
“After the sun sets, each house will announce their champion and second. After each house has spoken, the tournament will have officially begun. Champions may challenge each other at any time. Champions can use any means necessary to complete a challenge. There are no prohibitions.”
The words spoken in the twilight tones of the valley hang ominously in the air.
There are no prohibitions. That means any of the champions can attempt to kill me at any time, day or night, over the next few weeks.
I feel a great heaviness settling in my bones, as if the earth itself is trying to claim me.
How can I possibly survive? It’s a desperate question humming in my head, a panicked one. Because I already know the answer.
I can’t.
I’ll be lucky if I survive the night.
But I don’t have time to think on it further.
Someone steps up behind me, linking their arm through mine and leading me to stand next to my grandparents.
For a moment, I think it’s one of the guards, but when I glance over, I realize that this man is unfamiliar to me, and wearing garb too fine for the guards.
He has light brown hair with a touch of auburn, and he looks around my age.
He’s wearing a red cloak with gold embroidery just like mine.
“Who the hell are you?” I growl softly, my manners completely shot, along with my nerves.
He looks over at me and smiles. “Don’t recognize your own cousin? Come now, Embyr. We were engaged to be married once upon a time.”
I can’t hide the shock that rolls over my face. His smile broadens to a grin as I stare at him, flabbergasted.
“You…you’ve grown quite a bit,” I say, trying to keep my secret intact.
We’re interrupted as two warriors, a man and a woman, step forward to stand before us.
They’re clearly fae, tall and pale and silver-haired with stunning eyes.
“We are the champions for House Pentartha,” they say in unison, crossing one arm solemnly over their chest. The woman’s eyes burn hatefully into mine as they move out of the way, another pair of warriors in line behind them.
“Come now,” my cousin whispers, shooting me only a momentary side glance while looking out over the crowd. “I know you have amnesia. The riders talk to me, even if they don’t talk to our grandparents.”
“I’m dead anyways,” I say with a sullen shrug. “It doesn’t matter if they find out.”
His lips twitch up at the corners. “I didn’t say I was going to tell them. It’s more fun keeping secrets, don’t you think?”
I turn and look at him, trying to read him as the champions from the other houses continue approaching to declare themselves to House Harkyn. A steady flow of enemies, dozens upon dozens of them. “I suppose,” I say softly.
“As far as your untimely death goes, as your second, I’d really rather that not happen.”
“I don’t remember how to use magic. If I ever did to begin with,” I hiss. “And my fighting skills are only average compared to the fae. I’m not really sure how those two think this is going to end well for them.”
He shoots our grandparents a look. “It’s true. I haven’t quite figured out their game here.” He cocks his head to the side as he looks down at me, his eyes bright. “But I will. And as for you, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “I’m not marrying you, if that’s what your angle is.”
A devilish smirk crosses his face. “Dearest cousin who clearly thinks quite highly of herself, you are very much not my type.”
“Just wanted to be clear.”
“I do appreciate that.”
The line of warriors keeps flowing, and now that the last of the sun has vanished from the sky, the length of the valley is lit up with hundreds of tiny lights, lanterns and campfires stretching from one end to the other.
It also means that I can’t see how many houses have yet to come forth and declare themselves.
This could take until midnight for all I know.
Of course, when it’s done, my life becomes one big ticking clock.
Only a matter of time before it’s over. So, I push down my impatience as the declaration ceremony continues.
“I don’t suppose you’ll share details of these tricks… oh, and what’s your name?” I add as an afterthought. It’s incredibly strange that I have a cousin I didn’t know existed and that he seems to maybe be some sort of ally. Though I’m very much not sure I trust him yet.
“Cillian,” he says. “As for the tricks…”
My cousin continues talking but his words are drowned out by the next pair of fae that step forward. The face of one is quite familiar to me. And he stares right at me, hatred burning in his eyes as he speaks.
“Toryn, champion of House Rylorian.”
As he spins on his heel, his gaze is an almost physical force that rakes across me before he walks away into the darkness.
“I take it you know that lovely fellow,” Cillian says.
“A little.” I try to swallow, but my throat has become tight and dry.
Of course Toryn is a member of one of the royal fae houses.
It was already bad enough when he hated me and constantly throttled me back at Shadow’s Keep.
Now he’s going to make sure my life is an absolute nightmare.
He doesn’t know, and wouldn’t care, that being House Harkyn’s champion and trying to overthrow the Queen is the last thing I could ever want.
I stare off into the night, starting to go numb again as pairs of champions move past us.
Their heated gazes, the soft muttering of a curse under their breaths as they retreat.
As someone who has lived her entire life on the run, avoiding attention at all costs, I almost feel like this is a worse fate than death.
My thoughts spin in slow loops through my head as the noise of the crowd becomes an ever-present buzz crushing in around me.
The distant waves begin to grate on my nerves, and even the glowing lights throughout the valley seem harsh, making me dizzy.
I don’t know how much time has passed when Cillian nudges me and says, “Look. Almost done.”
My eyes regain focus, and I look up to see there are three more pairs of champions. After that, the tournament will have officially begun.
The first pair approaches, and the champion spits on my boots as he walks by. The second pair are from a human house, their hair in long braids down their backs, golden rings in their noses and ears and lips. And then the third and final pair is standing before us, and my heart drops to the ground.
“Daemon Aeternas, champion of House Aeternas.”
I stare at him, at his dark hair, those green eyes.
He’s standing with a blonde fae woman who must be his second.
A strange wave of emotion moves through me, a combination of giddiness and abject horror.
I will him to raise his eyes to mine, but he doesn’t so much as glance in my direction as he stands before my grandparents, three feet away, and then turns and passes right before me on his way back into the crowd.
He is there, and then he is gone, his black cloak swirling in the night.
I’d thought I’d never see him again. My initial impulse had been joy, because I’d been wrong. But then, that joy had died in my chest. And Daemon’s lack of acknowledgement only confirmed it.
He’s here to compete in the tournament. He’s here representing his family house. He’s here because of one undeniable truth.
Whatever fleeting, budding bond may have once passed between us is now gone.
Daemon is here because he’s my enemy.