Chapter 27 #2
“Nonsense, it is my honor to speak with our first contest’s champion.” Helen smiles at Leto, but the pleased expression slips when her gaze slides to Hali. “And you, as well, young Hali.”
“Thank you, Lady Helen,” Hali replies, voice monotone.
Leto clears his throat. “How can we be of service, Lady Helen?”
A jeweled headband weaves through Helen’s thick brown tresses. The wealth of those gems alone would be enough money to feed all of Verdanthia for the cold season.
“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you, my dear.”
I count fifteen jewels at least. Are there more concealed underneath her hair?
Leto touches my elbow. “Elara?”
I drop my gaze, finding Lady Helen’s cool, flat eyes on me.
Damn…
“Forgive me…” I blink. “It’s…it’s been a long day.”
Helen’s answering smile is far from sincere.
“Of course.” She waves a hand to the elevated pathway extending off the viewing box, surrounding the maze below. “May I have a word?”
My gut begs me to say no, but I don’t really have a choice.
More than one stare burns into my back as I shuffle a step in front of the mayor’s wife, taking care not to trip in my tight gown.
Below, servants hurry through the maze hedges, resetting the course.
My stomach twists.
How many more contestants will endure this suffering? And for what?
To distract the Virendrellian population from their lack of mating prospects?
It doesn’t make sense.
“This contest has always been one of my favorites,” Helen remarks, shifting forward to walk at my side.
“I enjoy the unpredictability. In all other competitions, the cunning and strong have the advantage. They see their challenge and meet it head-on. In the maze, intuition and fast reflexes are what separate the winners from the losers.”
An unsettling chill runs down my spine. “I see.”
We continue down the empty walkway. The observers who stood along the viewing platform are gone. A glance confirms they’ve descended to the ground level.
Is it because of Helen?
I wouldn’t be surprised.
Something about the Fae female screams of warning.
“I wonder,” Helen starts, her voice deceptively light, “how would you respond to such a challenge?”
Power trickles into my hands. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never used my magic in such a way.”
She tilts her head, the jeweled headband catching the waning sunlight. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Not while living under the scrutiny of unblessed mortals.”
She stops once we reach the midpoint of the platform, on the opposite side of the viewing box where we watched the contest.
My gaze trails the hedges below while hers remains focused on me, burning a hole into my face.
“Anders says you’ve shown interest in your home continent’s history.”
My skin prickles.
What else did he say?
Did he tell her about Calla’s diary?
I urge my power to flow to my heart to steady its rapid beat. “As a human, I was denied the opportunity to learn what happened in Astloria during the Shadow Wars. I’m grateful for the opportunity to discover the truth while in Virendrell.”
“Hm.” Her sharp gaze sweeps over my face, lingering just a beat too long. “What a…coincidence that you were discovered by none other than the Shadow Prince.”
Her words are an accusation.
But that’s not what makes breath lodge in my throat.
Iscan the area around us, afraid someone heard Helen identify Rian as the heir to the Shadow throne.
Afraid of what the powerful part Fae will do when they learn their enemy is in their midst.
Helen laughs softly. “Relax, my dear. I may not be as powerful as the Fae who came before me, but I still have tricks.”
She lifts her hand and flicks her fingers through the air.
The space around us ripples.
A shimmer blooms outward, delicate and translucent, sealing us inside a glistening shell.
“It’s a silencing ward,” she says. “I do not like my conversations to be overheard.”
Rian used a similar ward back in Verdanthia. In his tent. When he offered to help me with my magic.
A roar of applause rises from the elevated seating, unhindered by the magical barrier Helen put in place.
I turn to investigate the source of the commotion. Every spectator is on their feet, clapping and cheering, every eye fixed on the maze’s entrance.
I follow their gazes.
Black irises capture mine.
Recognition hits a heartbeat before Iris’s musical voice slices through the air. “Go, Rian!”
Breath lodges in my throat as my heart slams into a frantic rhythm. I grip the metal railing and force air into my lungs.
The Shadow Prince stands at the mouth of the maze, shirtless. His muscular, runed, olive-skinned torso is on full display.
What is he doing?
Even from this distance, the raised scar on his neck catches the light, but no one comments on the evidence of violence.
Can they not see it?
Maybe his glamour conceals it.
But then why can I see the scar?
Does his glamour not work on me?
No. That can’t be it.
Silas’s glamour fooled me in Verdanthia. Anton’s too. Rian’s concealment must be selective.
He must want me to see him.
The markings on my arms stir, fluttering in agreement.
“Ah.” Helen’s voice drips with satisfaction. “I didn’t think he’d do it.”
I force my eyes off Rian and find the mayor’s wife grinning at me like a cat with a mouse in its claws.
“Do what?” I ask.
Her grin widens. “Compete for Iris.”
My jaw drops.
There’s no way…
Rian is up to something.
He has to be.
But what?
A horn blares overhead before I can find the answer.
I spin around just in time to see Rian launch forward—
And disappear into the dangerous maze.