Chapter 16 The Fox and the Hare #2
One of them ran her tiny fingers through a particularly silky section. “Beautiful. Like spun copper and flame.”
“You’re too kind.” I examined my claws while they worked, checking that the polish was still perfect and the crystals were in place. “Though I do try to maintain certain standards.”
Isengrim stood near the tent entrance, watching the growing crowd. He cut an impressive figure in his gray suit. It was hard to believe that mere centuries ago, he’d been my nemesis.
He tilted his head slightly, tracking something across the meadow. “The rabbit is already here. With his little kobold handler. They’ve set him up in the green tent across the way.”
I toyed with one of my ear studs, more than ready to start the challenge. “How does he look?”
Isengrim turned to face me, and his posture carried a level of predatory caution. “Better than what I expected, honestly. The orc did a good job.”
“I doubt it was Brok’s training that made the difference. The Osterhase was just lucky to find Hazel’s sweets.” I was a little bitter about that, but I couldn’t blame Hazel for wanting to help the pathetic little bunny. She was just too nice for her own good.
Isengrim’s entire demeanor shifted. The predatory edge softened into something warmer, more gallant. “Speaking of which… It’s unfortunate she couldn’t attend today. I would have very much enjoyed seeing her again.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you now? And here I thought you were focused on my victory, darling.”
He straightened his cufflinks, a nervous gesture I couldn’t help but find endearing. “I can focus on multiple priorities.”
Of course he could. That was what made him such a worthy opponent and such a useful ally. “You’ll have all the time in the world to court her after this is over. If the coat didn’t make an impression, we’ll find something that will.”
The faeries finished their work on my tail. I gestured to the small table where I’d left a pouch of gold coins. “Perfect, ladies. Thank you. Please, take your payment and my gratitude.”
They chittered with delight and grabbed the coins. Once satisfied with their reward, they fluttered out of the tent, leaving me alone with Isengrim.
I moved to the tent opening and surveyed the meadow. The crowd was massive now, hundreds of supernatural beings gathered to watch. “So. What do we know about the actual challenge structure? Speed and wit, obviously, but what form will they take?”
Isengrim came to stand beside me, his shoulder nearly touching mine. “Everything’s being kept under wraps. Oberon’s people have been remarkably tight-lipped about the specifics. All I know is that it’s designed to test both traditional and modern interpretations of the Herald’s duties.”
“Traditional and modern.” I tapped my claws together, my mind already whirling. “Which means they’re trying to make it fair for both me and the rabbit. Give us each opportunities to shine.”
His hand found the small of my back in a gesture of solid support. “But fairness doesn’t concern me. You have centuries of experience. You understand spring in ways that anxious little rabbit never could.”
Movement near the platform caught my attention. King Oberon himself was rising from his throne-like chair, and the crowd’s energy shifted immediately. Conversations died. Beings pressed closer. Everyone wanted to see.
Isengrim’s hand pressed more firmly against my back. “It’s starting.”
We stepped out of the tent together, and I felt every eye in the meadow track our movement. Good. Let them watch. Let them see how a true Herald carried themselves.
We made our way through the crowd toward the platform area, and I kept my head high and my movements confident. This was my moment. My reclamation. My return to what should have always remained mine.
King Oberon stood at the center of the platform, impossibly tall and bearing the weight of eons in his ageless face. His presence made the flowers around us bloom brighter. The very air felt heavier with magic and possibility.
His ancient power resonated through the meadow as he began. “Welcome, all who have gathered to witness the Trial of Spring. Today we determine who shall bear the Title of Herald of Spring for the coming age.”
I took my place near the platform, feeling Isengrim solid and supportive beside me. Across the way, I could see Barnaby radiating nervous determination next to his kobold.
Oberon swept one elegant hand across the assembled crowd.
“The challenge will test speed, wit, and joy: the three essential qualities of spring’s true champion.
Speed, for spring arrives swiftly and must reach all corners of the world.
Wit, for spring must adapt to changing times and circumstances.
And joy, for without joy, spring is merely a changing of seasons rather than a celebration of renewal. ”
The crowd murmured with appreciation. It was a good speech. Traditional without being stuffy, acknowledging both old ways and new.
Oberon gestured toward me first, and a golden glow appeared around me, dancing through my fur. “Our competitors today are Vixen de Maupertuis, known as the Osterfuchs. Original Herald of Spring, seeking to reclaim what was once theirs.”
The crowd’s energy built around me. Support, curiosity, anticipation. They remembered what I’d been. They were ready to see what I could still do.
Oberon turned toward my rabbit competitor. “And Barnaby Warren, known as the Osterhase, current Herald of Spring, seeking to maintain his position.”
Barnaby straightened under the attention. He still had tiny flecks of chocolate on his whiskers. I suppressed the urge to glare at him because it wouldn’t be very joyful.
Oberon’s ancient power resonated through his next words.
“Now for the terms. Competitors will race with reindeer provided by our esteemed colleague.” He nodded toward Santa, who stood at the platform’s edge in his red suit.
“Simultaneously, they will be creating content for the supernatural social network CrystalGram. The combination will test both your physical capabilities and your understanding of modern joy-spreading techniques.”
CrystalGram. The social media platform set up by the kobolds. I’d been using it for years, building followers, understanding what resonated with supernatural audiences. The rabbit probably barely knew how it worked.
Advantage: mine.
Oberon’s presence seemed to grow heavier, more final. “The competitor who completes the race with the best combination of speed and viral engagement will demonstrate mastery of both traditional and contemporary Herald skills. The Title itself will judge worthiness and declare the winner.”
Simple. Elegant. Fair on paper, but heavily weighted toward someone who actually understood modern communication.
I was going to win this.
Oberon turned his ancient gaze toward Santa. “And now, my esteemed colleague has an announcement.”
Santa moved to the center of the platform. Something in his expression made my confidence waver slightly. “Thank you, King Oberon. I’m honored to assist in this Trial of Spring. However, I must inform everyone that we have received one additional competitor registration this morning.”
Additional? My mind raced. Who would enter at the last minute? What competitor would dare—
Santa’s expression brightened with something that looked almost like pride. “Our third competitor is Brok of the Iron Steppe, entering on behalf of joy itself.”
The words didn’t make sense.
Third competitor. Brok. The orc who’d been training Barnaby? Hazel’s Brok? What in Spring’s name was going on?
I pivoted on my heel, searching the entire meadow. And then I saw him, his massive green form already parting the crowd. He was walking toward the platform with steady confidence, wearing simple, practical clothes. Beside me, Isengrim went completely rigid. “What is he doing?”
That was exactly what I wanted to know.
Barnaby wasn’t doing much better. He was staring at his trainer with his mouth hanging open. It didn’t reassure me as much as it should have.
The entire meadow had gone silent with confusion. An orc couldn’t be Herald of Spring. He had no magic, no history with the season, no right to this Title whatsoever.
What was he thinking? What was his strategy? What had I missed?
For the first time in centuries, someone had caught me completely off guard. I had absolutely no idea what he was planning. Whatever it was, I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it.