Chapter 25
The room exploded in a buzz of shock and excitement. My stomach dropped like a stone.
“House head against house head,” Imogen said, looking smug as a cat with bird feathers sticking from its mouth. “The victor gains one boon from the crown.”
Kallen’s face remained impassive, but he shifted closer to me.
“This is unnecessary,” Torin argued.
“Are you afraid?” Imogen taunted, eyes still sparkling. “Perhaps you would like Rowena to fight on behalf of Light House instead?”
Rowena looked like she wouldn’t mind. Her eyes threw daggers at Imogen.
Torin’s jaw clenched. “No. But you cannot think to make us butcher each other for your amusement.”
“There will be no butchery. This is still a silvered event.” She paused, tapping her finger to her lips.
“Contestants will be disqualified at first blood. Magic will be allowed, but nothing that will cause serious injury or death.” Her smile grew.
“And I will be fighting, as Osric was always too much of a coward to do.”
The uproar that met that was deafening. I faced Kallen, breath coming shallowly and cold sweat breaking out over my body. “What do I do?”
“Three deep breaths,” he told me, modeling them with one long inhale of his own. “Focus on the ground beneath your feet. Get the fear off your face.”
I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to focus on my balance. Out of the head, into the body , he’d told me more than once when I’d grown frustrated during training. Spiraling thoughts led to sloppy actions. I flexed my toes, then used his own calm expression as my template.
“Good.” He lowered his head, speaking even more quietly. “She cannot allow any of you to be killed. It would destabilize the realm. This is merely a clever bit of pageantry.”
A bit of pageantry that would end with blood, but the true price the losers would pay was worse than that. Reputation was everything in the Fae court. “The weakest house heads will be humiliated.”
“Yes, which is why it’s clever. She’ll attack Drustan or Hector first, since a loss would be a blow to their images. It will shake any support they’re cultivating outside their houses.”
My heart raced. I’d been focusing on the danger to me, but this was significant on so many levels. “She’s drunk, though.”
“Yes, but she’s a habitual drunk, so I wouldn’t count on that impacting her abilities. She may even be exaggerating her impairment. Imagine the story if she wins—even after a few bottles of wine, Imogen was able to best all five of the house heads.” He shook his head. “The Fae will adore that.”
Another chill raced over me. “She must be confident she can win.”
“I’ve never seen her fight, but Illusion House trains their nobles brutally.”
It was hard to imagine Imogen competing physically with the tall, muscular princes, but she also had a terrifying type of magic. “I’m going to lose,” I said, despair threatening to swamp me.
“Do not say that,” Kallen said sharply, composure slipping. “Many battles are won or lost before anyone touches a weapon, and this is a fight well suited to your skills.”
I couldn’t help but make a face. “I’ve been training for less than two weeks.”
“It’s not just about the training or the weapons. Being underestimated is a strength, and your magic is going to be your greatest asset.”
I hadn’t been thinking about that, only my ability to wield a sword. I closed my eyes, focusing on the liquid heat filling my chest and veins. When I thought about slowing my racing heart, the magic leapt to help with the task.
What could I do that wouldn’t violate the rules? I could slow my attackers down, as I had during the revolution, or cause cramps or other physical distractions. I could freeze someone’s arm to avoid being stabbed.
I focused on the steady expansion and contraction of my lungs. I was the weakest house head. It was possible someone would try to eliminate me immediately to clear the floor of a distraction…but it was more likely the deadliest faeries would turn on one another first, leaving me for later.
I didn’t have to win. I just couldn’t be the first to lose.
I opened my eyes, met Kallen’s searching gaze, then nodded.
His smile was tight. “Go show them who you are, Kenna.”
As I turned away, his fingers brushed mine.
I joined the others at the center of the ballroom.
Oriana was having a quiet argument with Imogen, and I could guess what that was about—whether or not this counted as breaking neutrality.
Torin and Rowena were consulting with each other, while Drustan was accepting a sword from a bowing Illusion servant.
Another servant rushed up to me, presenting a matching blade.
“I already have a dagger,” I said, touching my deadly necklace.
The Underfae bowed. “Forgive me, my princess, but our queen wishes for this to be an equal fight. You must wield the same weapons.”
I begrudgingly nodded and accepted the blade, gripping the leather-wrapped hilt.
The silver peace chain pressed into my palm.
Kallen had spent a few nights on swordplay, and I recognized this as a side sword—light enough to wield one-handed but with sharp edges that made it ideal for slicing as well as stabbing.
It was the same type of sword he carried most days.
Caedo thrummed with disappointment as I took a few experimental slashes. I know , I told the dagger. I don’t like it, either.
Another servant handed me a red tunic and shirt, and then four sylphs flew overhead, carrying a bolt of purple fabric.
They circled me, then dropped it, creating a curtain.
A portable changing room, apparently. I stripped off the dress and replaced it with the sparring clothes.
A pixie zoomed down from above to tug at my bootlaces.
Taking the hint, I kicked the shoes and socks off and flexed my toes against the cool wooden floor. Out of the head, into the body.
When the curtain was whisked away, I saw the same had happened to the others. Even Oriana was scowling with a pile of green fabric in her arms as the sylphs dropped a curtain around her; she’d apparently lost that argument.
Hector was frowning at his sword. It was strange to see him in bare feet with his long hair tied back. I approached him, making my first move of the match. “I propose an agreement,” I said quietly.
The Void prince didn’t look at me, still inspecting his blade. “I’m listening.”
“Spare each other at the start so we can focus on our mutual enemies.”
His brows raised. “I wasn’t going to attack you first.”
“I figured. But I like to be clear about such things.”
He nodded. “A truce, then. But it will have to break at some point.”
“I’ll try not to hurt you too badly when it does.”
He chuckled, glancing at me. “What a turn this evening has taken.”
“Are you upset about it?”
“Not at all.” His smile was as sharp as a blade. “I much prefer this.”
I slipped to Drustan’s side next, making the same offer.
He nodded, embers smoldering in his eyes. “Imogen and Torin are my priority,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll be keeping them busy, if you’d like to practice your magic while they’re distracted.”
“You didn’t expect her to do something like this,” I said, guessing at the source of his pique. He liked being the one in control, but this had shocked him.
“Did Kallen expect it?” he snapped.
“What?” My forehead furrowed. “No, why would he?”
He shook his head. “Never mind.” He turned that seething look on the spectators. “Look at the crowd. They adore her for this.”
Faeries were packed in around the edges of the dance floor, and more were pouring in through the doors. Word must have spread that the house heads were putting on a show. The atmosphere was festive, with drinks and plates of food circulating.
“I suppose we could have refused,” I said.
“No, we couldn’t have. It would be seen as cowardice.” His scowl deepened. “The people crave a spectacle, so she’s giving it to them—and she’ll seem even more of a queen because she set the terms.”
Illusion House’s favored virtue was cunning.
Seeing those excited faces and hearing the buzz of conversation, I begrudgingly admired Imogen’s bold choice.
She was not only entertaining her subjects but proving her mettle, and the rest of us were forced to go along.
If she won, unlikely as it seemed, that would support her claim to the throne.
It was a gamble…but big wins required big risks.
“Keep an eye on Torin,” Drustan said. “Imogen did not endear herself to him just now, so he might let me take my chances with her and focus on collecting easy wins instead.”
And I was the easiest win of all.
Imogen sauntered forward in a simple purple sparring set.
Diamonds still sparkled at her neck and wrists, but she’d removed her heavy crown.
“The rules,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers.
“If even a drop of your blood spills, you will leave the floor immediately. No grievous maiming, no amputations, no killing. Slicing is preferred, but any stabbing must avoid major organs. Magic may be used but is subject to the same constraints, and all blood must be spilled by sword to count.”
What made a maiming grievous ? Panic started to squeeze my chest again.
“This is an absurdity,” Oriana said through gritted teeth. “You demean us by making us entertainment.”
“I think we have all forgotten that we do not just rule our people,” Imogen said. “We serve them, and we cannot demand blind obedience without proving ourselves in return.”
More than a tad hypocritical, since she was demanding Mistei’s blind obedience when it came to her reign, but this was exactly the sort of partly true, partly false, and entirely self-serving argument the Noble Fae excelled at, so I ignored it.
I was too busy looking from opponent to opponent, trying to predict what they would do.
“When the horn blows, we fight.” Imogen grinned. “Are you ready?”
I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway.