Chapter 10 #2
My throat tightened. We’d crossed kingdoms, bled for answers, shattered illusions. And there it was, looped around a woman’s neck like a bauble, as out of reach as if we didn’t know where to find it.
“How can we convince her to let us have it?” I asked.
“I’ll break in and steal it,” Lore said with a conniving grin.
I lifted my eyebrows Lore’s way. “We will break in and steal it.”
“And under any other circumstances, I’d say, yes, do it,” Dorion said. “But that won’t work this coming week, and I know time’s an issue. They’re holding a fete over the next few days.”
Lore frowned. “What kind of fete?”
“Three days of dangerous competitions, one event each day,” Dorion said. “There will be people everywhere. You’ll never get near the talisman, let alone escape with it.”
With flitting we might. Or not. My stomach dropped. In five days, the curse would claim Lore, and this court was essentially turning our desperation into entertainment.
“How dangerous?” I asked.
Dorion gave me a sympathetic look. “Some competitors will die, hence those with less fortitude watching rather than competing. With the talisman awarded to the winner. We need to attend and win because they’re offering the talisman as the prize.
Well, the winner will be allowed to hold the talisman, which will grant them one wish before they must return it. Irridain won’t part with it for long.”
“Laphira’s willing to hand it over even for a short time?” I asked.
The unfairness of it crashed over me like a wave. They had no idea what they possessed. To them, it was probably another bauble, another tool for political games. Meanwhile, Lore was dying. Each day that passed brought us closer to losing everything.
Dorion’s mouth twisted. “She will if her mother tells her to do so.”
I shot to my feet, pacing to the window. “She's wearing our only hope around her neck like jewelry. I say we storm the court and take it. I don’t care what they think or how much they treasure the featherdorn. We need it more than they do.”
I whirled to face Dorion. “You're telling me that while my husband has days left to live, they’re hosting games? Using the one thing that can save him as entertainment?”
“They don’t know what it is,” Lore said softly. “You know that.”
I deflated. Struggled not to cry.
“I understand,” Dorion said. “Believe me, if I could’ve taken it last night, I would’ve.”
I held up a hand. “Wait. Back up. You said the pendant grants wishes.” If we could get our hands on it, I knew what I’d wish for.
Dorion rubbed his temple. “It used to. From what little I heard, it’s been inconsistent lately.” He frowned. “When it was working, it had incredible value. Imagine holding an object that could grant you anything you could ask for.”
Crossing the room, I dropped down beside Lore, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
“For battle mages, it means the difference between victory and death.” Dorion's voice carried a lilt I hadn't heard before. “Healers could revive lost magic.” He paused, his eyes distant. “In a world where power fails us when we need it most, the pendant offers the certainty we all crave.”
“And Irridain has held it all these years,” Lore mused, rubbing his chin.
“Exactly.”
“Then why allow anyone else to take it, even if only for a short time?” I asked.
Was Lore thinking the same thing as me? We didn’t want to compete in some silly fete, but it was only three days.
We’d have two left after that. With the pendant in hand, we could end the curse.
Assuming we could win. The fates, as always, were playing games with our lives.
I'd curse them outright if they hadn't sent us vague help since we started on this quest to free Lore.
“I suspect the fete is less about loaning the pendant for one wish granted,” Dorion said.
“And more about identifying which noble line is magically compatible with the pendant. As I said, the pendant has grown temperamental; its power no longer activates reliably for Irridain’s bloodline.
The queen must worry that if its sentience is rejecting them, the magic could be slipping away.
If it performs for someone else and under controlled terms such as this, it allows them to decide if a political marriage or alliance should take place to preserve their legacy. ”
Dorion shifted forward and studied us both for a moment. “Laphira’s husband is dead.”
I stiffened. “You think the queen is offering the pendant to find a new husband for the princess.” It wasn’t a question. I could feel it falling into place, a knot in the weave of a plan we hadn’t seen forming.
Irritation churned through me. After everything we'd been through, after clawing my way back from shadow and death, they were dangling our salvation in front of us like a prize at a carnival.
“Not out in the open,” Dorion said. “I could be wrong about that. The Laphira I used to know wouldn’t allow herself to be used to form an alliance.
And Irridain’s court would never tolerate a spectacle that might result in her marrying someone they wouldn't choose to form a treaty with. But her mother is someone completely different. Laphira’s…
softer, I guess you could say. Back when I knew her, she was a fragile flower trying to bloom in a nest of thorns.
They’re saying the fete is to show strength, give the viewers a spectacle, and facilitate diplomacy.
Unofficially…” He sent his gaze toward the hearth, half-lit with shadowy flames.
“They want to see who the pendant favors,” Lore said slowly.
Dorion grunted. “If the featherdorn responds to someone outside their bloodline, someone they could marry Laphira off to, then they’ll know the line weakening isn’t a theory but truth. It could be a signal the magic is drifting, rejecting the family.”
“They’re using the competitors,” I said.
Dorion’s eyes met mine. “Exactly.”
“And if it chooses someone, if it flares or hums or does whatever it does when it’s working, they’ll know who to watch. Even if they don't offer a marriage or some other type of alliance right away.”
“Even if they despise the winner,” Dorion said. “Who will have to watch their back.”
Lore didn’t flinch, though I felt his tension in the twitch of his arm. “They’re luring the pendant’s potential next bond out into the open.”
I hadn’t realized how deeply I hated the word “bond” until now. The idea of someone else being tied to that talisman, no matter the cost to us, made my blood boil.
They weren’t only offering a prize. They were manipulating fate like it was a game.
“And creating a field of rivals at the same time,” Dorion said. “Imagine being the one granted a wish. The dreams it could unearth. Someone might feel chosen by the pendant. I doubt they’d hand it back and walk away quietly.”
“Unless,” I said, blinking, “they’re planning to use it for something they haven’t told anyone or alluded to.”
“Such as?” Lore asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve discovered many of the fae ruling class are after one thing only: personal power.”
Lore nodded. “That’s sadly true.”
Dorion's expression shifted, becoming almost smug. “I entered the three of us in the competition.” His mouth curved into that slick smile again. “Under different names, of course.”
“You did what?” I sat forward.
“I may have taken some liberties.” Dorion stood and executed an elaborate bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’ll attend the fete as Lord Vikire.” He gestured to us with a flourish. “And his dear friends, the wedded couple Lord Rutherford and Lady Bliss, will compete along with him.”
Lore stared at him. “You did this without asking us first?”
“That's not the point.”
Lore's expression darkened further. “The point is that you've committed my wife to deadly games without her consent. Without mine.”
“I committed Lord Rutherford and Lady Bliss,” Dorion said carefully. “Not the King and Queen of Evergorne Court. They’re rather reclusive. I’m sure the queen allowed them entrance because she’s curious. It’s the best scenario since few will know them well enough to note odd mannerisms or dress.”
“By entering my wife,” Lore's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “you know exactly what you've done.”
Becoming someone else, even for a few days, meant shifting aside the part of me that had only recently returned from near-death. But I’d do it. I’d do worse if it meant saving him.
“We need to do it.” I forced a smile but cold settled deep in my spine.
Lore's hand tightened on mine. “No.”
Both Dorion and I turned to stare at him.
“No?” I was sure he heard the irritation in my voice.
“You're not competing in anything that could get you killed.” His voice was steel wrapped in sikeen, the tone he used when he wasn't negotiating. “I won't lose you, Reyla. Not to save my own life.”
Heat flared in my chest. “This isn’t just your choice to make.”
“The fates it isn't.” He stood abruptly, pacing to the fireplace. “You think I'm going to watch you throw yourself into mortal danger for me?”
“Yes, for you.” I rose to face him. “The same way you'd do for me. Like you did for me not long ago.”
“That's different.”
“How?”
His jaw worked, the muscles ticking beneath the skin. Something raw and desperate flickered in his eyes. “Because I can't survive losing you. The curse might kill me, but watching you die would destroy whatever's left of my soul.”
I lifted my chin, staring him down. “It’s the same for me. Don’t think it isn’t.”
Dorion cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should mention that competitors can work in teams—”
“No teams,” Lore cut him off. “If anyone's competing, it's me. Alone.”
“Absolutely not.” I crossed my arms on my chest. “You're not risking what little of your life remains alone.”
“And you're not risking yours when I just got you back.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Wildfire, please. Let me find another way.”
The anguish in his tone nearly broke my resolve. But we didn't have time.
“There is no other way,” I said softly. “And we both know it.”
He closed his eyes, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he opened his eyes again, the look he gave me was pure torment. “I don’t know if I can protect you there.”
“I'd rather face danger with you than safety without you. We face it together, Lore. Always.”
The devastation and acceptance in his gaze nearly made me take it back, but I couldn’t.
“Alright,” he forced through his clenched teeth.
“I will remind you that I don’t need permission for anything I choose to do.” I wanted to make that clear.
“Noted, wife,” he growled.
We’d find a way through this. We had to.
“Bliss, you said?” I asked Dorion. “What kind of name is that?” Though my supposed new name hardly mattered.
“You can blame her mother for that,” Dorion said. “I’ve detained them elsewhere, and they’ll find themselves free and a bit confused once the fete has concluded.”
Lore’s jaw ticked. He didn’t like it, and neither did I, but did we actually have a choice?
Dorion sent a wicked smile my way. “Are you ready to compete for the prize of a lifetime, Lady Bliss?”
“Why don’t you want what the featherdorn can offer?” I couldn’t quite believe he didn’t.
He swept his gaze back and forth between us. “I tell myself I'm helping you out of friendship and duty. I owe you. And that’s completely true. But part of me wonders if I'm eager to do this to prove I can take something precious from Laphira, even if it's just for a short time.”
That, I could understand.
His eyes glittered. “We have three chances to win it. Imagine, in a few days, you could leave Irridain with what you need to break the curse.”
The weight of it hit me like a physical blow. Three chances. Three opportunities to save the man I loved, buried under layers of political intrigue and a deadly competition.
Lore looked Dorion’s way. “How did you hear about this fete?”
“I was strolling through their marketplace after using the back servant’s entrance to get to her suite.”
“You said you saw her with her son through the window,” I said.
“I climbed down the wall from the top of the tower nearest her room. She’s using the same rooms. It was pretty dark in there. She had almost no lights on.”
“Yet you saw the featherdorn.”
“It glows when it flutters its wings.”
I’d keep that in mind. “The talisman comes with potential ties we may not want. I still think we should break in and steal it instead.” That would be much simpler than competing in games.
“We’ll certainly try to grab it while we’re there,” Dorion said.
“But I doubt we’ll be able to do that with so many people around.
If we’re caught, we’ll be captured. Tossed in the dungeon where we’ll remain until the fete’s over.
Court rivalry is very much alive at Irridain.
Queen Naveer hates Evergorne. Halendor too, for that matter.
The easiest way is to win it in the fete then return here the moment the featherdorn is in our possession. ”
“We can get in using magic,” I said.
Dorion shook his head. “Their wards won’t allow that.”
“It’s an insane plan.” I clenched my hands to fists, biting my nails into my palms. “But we’ll do what we have to, even dance attendance on some widow who's probably never fought for anything more challenging than the best seat at dinner.”
“She’s not like that,” Dorion barked.
“She wasn’t, you said.” I said. “You have no idea what she’s like now.”
“We won't lose.” Steel infused Lore’s voice.
“We can't. I don’t like this. Not one bit.
I know what you're capable of when you're fighting for someone you love, Reyla. They have no idea what's coming for them.” He shot Dorion a long look. “How will we convince anyone we’re Lord and Lady Rutherford?”
Dorion swirled his hands in the air. “With magic.”
Of course. Magic always had a price, and I had a feeling that this time, it might cost us more than we could imagine.
We would soon walk into a court that hated us while wearing some sort of disguise, where we’d hunt a talisman they’d hide from us if they knew we planned to steal it.
But the prize? A wish and a chance to save Lore.
Or the end of us all.