Chapter 1 #2
I beamed in spite of the name. I’d always despised epithets, but “the Spider Slayer” wasn’t too awful.
It was better than some of the other ones the king had bestowed on me previously.
The crowd clapped politely as the rest of the competitors dispersed with grumbles and envious looks.
Lord Ethan sniffed as he passed and checked his shoulder hard against mine, his steel armor knocking my already-loose leather pauldron askew.
The prick. He had a chip on his shoulder larger than the dragon scale displayed on the shelf.
Aven didn’t move from their position by the thrones and frowned as I accepted the sack of gold from a nearby page and a bouquet of colorful flowers from another, a mix of bright cosmos, delphiniums, and small pink roses.
With my back straight, I endured the praise and adulation from those courageous enough to skirt around the stretch of the giant spider’s legs to speak with me.
They were mostly young lieges of the court, dressed fashionably, and blushing as they asked me about my adventure.
There were a few older nobles as well, vying for me to move to their fiefs, though I had no intention of doing so.
Interest finally began to dwindle, most likely because of my curt answers and forced, frozen smile.
Or maybe it was the thick stench. Either way, I was left to make my escape.
That was when Aven chose their moment. “Like you need another purse of gold,” they said as they bent their head close to mine, tone low but sharp.
Their eyes glinted with a perceptiveness I didn’t appreciate, and they exuded an aura that, thanks to the breadth of their shoulders and royal bearing, would eclipse mine in any other circumstance.
“You’ve won the last five competitions. Isn’t that enough? ”
“Six competitions. And that’s rich coming from you,” I said, wedging the gold into the bag at my hip. “Literally.”
“I would have donated it to charity, of course. Some worthy cause.”
I tapped my chin in thought. “Do you consider your own coffers a worthy cause?” One fun fact about acting as Ellinore the Brave—she was kind of a jerk.
Aven scoffed. They brushed a piece of imaginary lint from their tunic sleeve, showing off the golden thread and intricate embroidery around the cuffs.
Aven was the pinnacle of royalty, from the shine of their glossy black hair and the gold glint of the earrings that lined the curves of both their ears, to the makeup expertly applied around their eyes.
Their sturdy leather boots were polished to a glow, and their trademark bow and quiver were made with the straightest wood and the finest feathers—peacock, pheasant, and raven alike.
Aven was currently last in line for the throne, the king’s dead brother’s only child, sometimes referred to as the Pointless Princet.
With five cousins who were the children of the king and queen, they barely held a claim, and they’d fall even further down the rungs once the oldest cousin, Princet Avia, ascended the throne and named their own heirs.
Maybe that was why Aven was perpetually in a bad mood.
“At least don’t spend it all in the first tavern you find. Save some for a leatherworker and have that buckle fixed.” Aven nodded toward my shoulder. “One firm hit and that pauldron will give.”
Embarrassed, I clapped my free hand over the distressed strap of my armor.
I knew the buckle and leather were on their last legs, but I didn’t see the use in getting it repaired when this would be my last quest. And I hadn’t thought anyone would notice.
I lifted my chin and swished my long, loose hair, tangled as it was.
“Well, maybe that will allow you the chance to actually best me.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Here.” I smacked the flowers against their chest. “These suit you more than they do me.”
Aven’s jaw clenched, and the tips of their ears turned red, a dead giveaway that I’d successfully annoyed them. They took the bouquet anyway. “You’re infuriating.”
“I aim to please,” I said, a genuine smile stealing over my features. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. With my bag of shiny new coins.”
I turned my back to them, all set to march right out of the throne room, until the king’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Not staying for the feast, Ellinore?” the king called.
I went rigid as all the attention in the room swung back in my direction. I took a fortifying breath, plastered a pleasant smile on my face, then turned and faced the king. I bowed as elegantly as I could, which was not elegantly at all.
“No, Your Majesty. I’ve been in the Dark Wood for several days, and I would like to return home.”
“You can stay here,” the queen said, resting her hand on the arm of her throne, the flash of the jewels in her rings highlighting the cool undertones of her deep-brown skin. “You could quickly bathe and change into a spare gown and—”
“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” A gown. As if. Who did she think I was? “But I’ve left my brother unsupervised for too long.”
“I thought he was your twin,” Aven said, their mouth pulling into a slow smirk. “Surely, he’d be fine for another day. He’s almost an adult, after all.”
“He is my twin. But there is no telling what kind of trouble he can find without me there.” That was an understatement. I only hoped that the house was still standing.
“Ah, siblings,” the king said. “I understand how troublesome they can be.”
Aven’s teasing expression turned cold and sour for the span of a blink, before smoothing into something bland and neutral.
I hated watching their personality recede behind a blank mask, as it often did under the scrutiny of the court.
It was one of the reasons I always teased them, to bring out the person I knew existed beneath it.
“Anyway,” the king continued, “at least regale us with the tale of how you were able to slay this magnificent creature and her brood, so the bards may spin another rousing song of Ellinore the Brave.”
My smile grew tight. My tongue was thick in my mouth as my mind whirred for a good answer.
I’d hoped to make it out of the castle before anyone asked for details.
“Right. A stirring tale for the bard.” In the corner of the hall, a bard sat with his quill perched over a parchment, ready to take down my words, his lute propped nearby.
Ugh. Bards were the worst. Almost as horrible as mages.
I coughed into my fist. “It was a short fight,” I said finally, patting the sword at my side. “No match for the best steel in the kingdom. Again, thank you for the gift. I couldn’t have defeated the creature without it.”
I may have hated playing the social game, but I knew how to appeal to vanity.
The sword had been a gift from the monarchs after the quest of the Golden Dragon and had been made by the finest swordsmith in all the kingdom.
Maybe a bit of flattery and gratitude would distract them long enough to let me make my getaway.
“Oh, very good to hear our gift was of help,” the queen said, drinking from a goblet worth more than the pouch I’d just received. “But I bet it was harrowing all the same.”
“Yes! Very harrowing. Incredibly harrowing. The most harrowing. It was dark in the Dark Wood, obviously. I was very deep in the interior, and it was difficult to see. The spider did have the upper hand with the web and venomous fangs and all, but I landed several blows. I managed to defeat it and win. As I always do.”
The bard scribbled furiously in the corner. Another round of polite applause swept through the room as the king and queen nodded their heads. Aven frowned while circling the spider, stepping over the river of ooze. They poked at a leg with a gloved finger, and the brittle limb creaked.
“Well, if the bard has any questions,” I added hastily, taking a step backward, “he may contact me in my home village. Thank you.”
“Wait,” the king said with a chuckle. “Not so fast, Ellinore. Please, indulge us by answering one last question before you take your leave. What do you intend to do with the winnings?”
My throat went as dry as a desert. I gripped the hilt of my sword, my fingers curling around the leather. I licked my lips as the crowd leaned in, hanging by a thread for my answer.
“Retire.”
The great hall fell morbidly silent. So quiet, the only sound was the audible gasp of a nearby servant. Aven snapped their head around, abandoning the spider’s corpse.
“What?” they breathed.
Their question sparked a ripple of conversation that ran through the onlookers, courtiers and servants alike, while the king glowered down at me from his throne.
“Retire?” the king demanded. “From questing?”
“Yes,” I said firmly.
Aven narrowed their eyes. “You’re only seventeen.”
A tingle of irritation worked down my spine at their tone, and the mention of my age.
I was aware I was quite young to retire.
And we were of a similar age. They’d had their eighteenth birthday a few months ago, and because they were royalty, there had been a big feast and competition.
I had won, of course. Beating them on their birthday had been particularly satisfying. They’d gotten over it. Probably.
“Yes. But I’ve been questing for years, and to be honest, I’m exhausted.”
“A rest, then,” the queen said, smiling gently. “A well-earned respite until you return for the summer season.” She touched her spouse’s hand, which had curled into a fist. “And she’ll return fitter and fiercer for it!”
I wanted to argue, to tell them I had no intention of returning for the summer tournaments, but that would just keep me here longer. I nodded.
“Yes. A rest.”
The king clapped his hands. “Wonderful. Well, then, let us feast.”