Chapter 13
D espite the uncomfortable pit growing in my stomach, I moved to stand at my father’s side. I offered a small wave of my hand, with a perfectly practiced smile upon my face to all those in the stands.
“Princess Illiana, before you are a group of eight contenders. Eight Fae, who believe they are up for the challenge to be the future King of Brookmere, and more importantly, your husband.” His voice boomed across the vast arena, echoing even beyond the spectator stands and into the distance. The eye of every subject present homed in on my father, and myself.
“Contenders, you are here to prove yourself worthy of my daughter's hand in marriage, and with that, worthy to hold the title of ‘King.’ You will be required to complete three tasks over the next few weeks. You will not only have to prove the strength and agility of your body, but also the power of your mind, the fierceness of your heart, and the fortitude of your compassion for this land and its people.
“If you should fail any challenge, you will be eliminated from the competition. In each trial, the contender who comes last will also be eliminated. In the third and final trial.” He paused, a smile blooming upon his face. “Princess Illiana will select her future husband from the top three contenders.”
The king cleared his throat, pausing and shifting his head slightly as he stared each competitor in the eye. The silence was deafening as everyone waited for him to continue. Although as Fae we had immensely long lives, there weren’t many remaining in the kingdom who witnessed the last marriage trials.
“The rules of the marriage trials are simple. Complete the tasks at hand and move forward through each level. Outside of the trials in the down time, you will behave like gentlemen and not attempt to thwart any other contender. Should I learn of such behavior, you will be immediately removed from the competition. Additionally, you will make no attempts to woo or detain Princess Illiana against her will. Predetermined times and places will be provided for conversations with the princess. Again, should I find you have sought her out against her wishes—” He stopped, his lip twitching. “Well, you wouldn’t want to know what will happen.” The king’s jovial tone had turned to ice, allowing all of those present to grasp the seriousness of his command before continuing.
“Today’s trial is all about the mind. You will have to complete three tasks to pass this first challenge. The first will test your ability for strategy. The second task will test your knowledge and fortitude. The final task will test your deductive and strategic reasoning. The top three contenders after today’s competition will be given a reward.”
Murmurs sounded throughout the crowd, anticipation and excitement growing with the start of the trials so close. “The reward will be drinks with Princess Illiana this evening, following dinner.”
A cheer rang out through the stands, our people roaring their approval.
At his final comment, my gaze darted in my father’s direction. He had not prepared me for this. I had convinced myself I only needed to be present for the trials themselves. However, after his heartfelt speech, I realized the trials would be ongoing, not just contained to the challenges themselves.
“Contenders, are you ready?” my father shouted.
The men on the field varied their return acknowledgments. Ian bowed his head, the Lords shouted with fists in the air. Kade caught me peering in his direction, and a devious-looking smirk formed on his face as he ran his hand through his black hair.
I wonder if his arrogance keeps his hair perfectly coiffed, or if it takes time to pretend he’s naturally flawless.
Because he was, unfortunately, flawless.
“To your positions, please,” the king shouted, moving from the dais.
“You enjoyed yourself far too much, my dear,” the queen said behind her gloved hand.
My father winked at her, taking his place in front of his throne.
The eight contenders walked toward the center of the massive circular arena, where eight tables were lined in a long row, one for each contestant. Even from our vantage point, I couldn’t be certain what the first task would be.
As the king spoke again, Vivienne appeared at his side. She placed her hand gently upon his arm, nodding toward the crowd in a silent request. Her wiry hair lay tamer today than when I encountered her in the hallway at the opening ball.
Today, she wore robes of this century as well, and her eyes were sharper than they usually appeared.
Vivienne, unable to command her voice like the king, spoke as loudly as she could. My father directed the winds to carry her voice to the uppermost areas of the arena stands. “Strength of men are mighty and bold, but what's in is out and out is in, for only one can sweep a fair maiden under her chin. Be bold you men of here and there, minds can trick, and flop, and flee, steady now for the kingdom’s heart takes more than one victory.”
Vivienne cackled as she raised her arms above her head, aiming them high into the sky. A wide grin blossomed across her face as she basked in the sunlight above. The only sound at the end of her rambling was the rustling of the wind.
My parents respected the Seer, and all of the people throughout Brookmere had learned to heed what Seers heard from the Fates. Right now, though? Right now, every gaze focused on Vivienne, unsettled. Everyone stared blankly, clearly unaware how to respond.
My father bowed his head to her, and then started clapping, the audience quickly followed suit. Vivienne returned the gesture and went back to my mother’s side, silent once more.
“Thank you, Vivienne, for those profound words,” the king said. “May nature guide you and bless these lands.”
Nervously, I balled my hands into fists, clenching my skirt. It was time.
“Dearest, you’ll announce ‘Begin’ when you’re ready,” he whispered to me.
Would I ever be ready? Never.
I refused to expose my insecurities here, though. I strode to the front of the thrones, staring down at the field. There was nothing to do but watch the trials unfold. Before I could second-guess myself, I inhaled sharply.
“Begin!”
A less-ornate, gold-trimmed chair sat adjacent to my father’s throne. My chair.
From it, I had a perfect view of the arena below. The contenders had a scroll before them, with instructions they were furiously reviewing. Although untimed, the last to finish would be declared the loser and be ejected from the trials.
All at once, ten dice appeared on each contender's table, along with five cards. Ian grasped the dice, giving them a quick roll immediately, all with a widening smile on his face. He would be smiling. He may have recognized the task before I had, but only moments sooner. How could I not recognize it when Ian spent our entire childhood constantly beating me at the game?
I turned to my father, eyes blazing. “You are having these men fight for my hand, to be my husband, and the King of Brookmere with a game I played as a child?”
Blinking slowly, I caught the disrespect flying from my tongue, seconds too late, especially in such a public place. Closing my lids momentarily, I tried to school my features, aware our world studied our every move.
The king reached for my hand, a performance for those whose eyes were still upon us. He kept his gaze straight ahead as he held my hand. His voice amplified once more, ringing through the arena.
“The first task is a game of Chance & Destiny.” He sat back, leaning toward me, still clasping my hand in his. “How many times did you play Chance & Destiny and not end up in tears?”
My mouth shut instantly. As a child, I always ended up in tears after the game, easily frustrated with losing.
“How many times did you want to stop and never pick up those dice again?”
Too many to count.
“You see, Illiana, Chance & Destiny, is not just a children's game. It is a game of strategy, yes, but it reveals much more. It is the long game one must play in order to win. Someone who can win Chance & Destiny has the strength and fortitude to know when to take and when to give. For you cannot win without making sacrifices. Some work out, some don’t.” My father looked me in the eye, waiting patiently for my understanding.
“When they do not work out, how will the player react? When they are not beating the others, will they give up? Will they stay strong and try again? Our future King, your husband, cannot win without making sacrifices, regardless of where those sacrifices may lead. Hopefully, their choices will lead to the greater good. Ideally, the sacrifices and strategy will lead to the prosperity of our people. If not, they must continue to rise. So, while you may see this as petty and insignificant, please have faith in me that I have chosen tasks to find you a worthy husband and ruler of our lands.”
I slipped my hand from his and placed it on my lap, nestled amongst the soft velvet fabric of my dress. Shame washed over me as it had when I was a little girl. No one wished to be scolded by their parents, but even less when your parent was a king. A king who had the foresight you could only dream of most days, even when infuriating.
“Pay attention and see what the contenders reveal about themselves as they play,” he said with a knowing grin.
My gaze shifted back to the field below me. I needed to pay attention to see what they were doing, the strategies they were choosing, but, more importantly, who came out winning.
I snorted the moment I scanned the tables. Ian held the lead. He had secured two out of the five necessary trade cards, and seven of the nine necessary dice rolls. He only needed a few rolls to win and move onto the next task. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face, and neither could I. His damn victory smile had been thrown my way more times than I cared to count.
Frederich and Hale were not too far behind Ian. They had four of their dice secured, and two of the trade cards. If they played their hands right, they could catch up quickly.
Kade seemed to be struggling with the dice, but instead, had secured all of the trade cards. Lord Thatcher appeared to be lost, while Lord West growled and muttered to himself, clearly having trouble with both dice and cards. Neither were handling this well. Every so often, the contenders would survey each other’s progress in an attempt to catch up.
Ryland had secured one trade card and one dice but didn’t seem deterred or frustrated in the least. In fact, I caught quite a few spectators cheering for him while he waved a hand, smiling, but remained focused.
The last contender, Edmund Fairweather, seemed to be less pleased with his struggle, even though he held the same number of dice and cards as Ryland. His features contorted with apparent frustration.
Clearly not everyone played Chance & Destiny as much as I had as a child.
The minutes dragged on as the stadium cheered occasionally, waiting for the first task to be completed. The sun crested to a peak in the sky. My father maintained a slight breeze moving through the pavilion to cool the air around us, as the warmth from the sun heated the nature-made arena.
Beads of sweat glistened from the poorer folks in the stands who stood in the back, not wealthy or connected enough to have garnered a seat and whose magic had to be reserved for every task. The division of magic had become more and more obvious the older I became. At first, I hadn’t noticed much, content in my childhood bubble inside the castle.
It would be impossible to remain ignorant of the struggles of Fae with lesser magic, especially after noticing the hesitation women in court had accepting Kalliah, when I named her my head lady-in-waiting. Guilt lashed through me like a whip. I didn’t have magic, and I knew I would be treated even worse than the lesser Fae if I’d have been born anywhere other than the royal house. There were even noble houses who had banished children who couldn't produce enough magic. Yet, here I sat, raised above those with more magic in their little finger than I possessed in my entire body.
My attention returned to the stands. While those with lesser magic were sweating, the stronger Fae manipulated the air and temperature around them. Several in the stands created their own shade by growing vines to block the sun’s unrelenting glare in the cloudless sky above.
A slap of wood jolted me back into the present moment. My lip curled in disgust. Somehow Frederich had won the game. He quickly ran across the arena toward the second task.
Another slap of wood sounded before Frederich reached the next table. Ian had finished as well, sprinting forward and starting right behind Frederich as they began the next task.
The second task took place in a shadier part of the arena, the height of the stands blocking the sun from the field below. A small wooden table for each contender held four chalices of varying shapes and sizes, with eight archways just beyond the row of tables. The archways were each surrounded by flowers and beautiful twined vines outlining a door within. A thick bush spanning across the arena, going through each of their personal doors, provided the only option for each contender to pass to the third task.
“The second task has begun for some,” the king announced. “Contender’s Choice will have each of them selecting a cup to drink from. However, not all are safe, and only one will get them through the door ahead.”
Cheering erupted from the crowd, along with a few shouts of surprise.
We were all learning about the trials in real time. I sat straighter in my seat, watching Ian study each chalice. Surely it couldn’t be anything dangerous.
“Father?” I probed.
He volunteered a small smile. “One cup will let them pass through the door. One is poisoned with a itch-inducing potion that will render them incapable of continuing. One does nothing. And one…” He cleared his throat. “One is dangerously poisoned, paralyzing the body completely.”
I gulped.
“With their Fae abilities, they should be able to heal with the help of Elisabeth by the end of the day.”
He seemed completely unaffected by the prospect of serious injury, in what I thought were mere trials for entertainment.
A shiver raced along my arms.
Additional slaps of wood made me jump, looking back to the arena and to the contenders still on task one. Lord Casimir, Kade, Hale, and Ryland had all managed to pass and were quickly racing to their potion stations.
Edmund and Lord Thatcher were still sorting through their dice and cards, frustration evident in their expressions. Their brows were furrowed in apparent discontent at being bested by a game of Chance & Destiny. A few more moments, and Edmund slapped the wood beside him and proceeded to his potions table.
The anger boiling over from Lord Thatcher was palpable, even from afar, as he finished the game last.
Back at the potion's tables, my gaze furiously darted between the contenders, studying the various chalices of liquids. Keeping up with the contenders, and where they were in their tasks, proved difficult.
My father coughed a few times, attempting to hide the noise since we were in public.
Before I could reach him, Andras’s grating, nasally voice sounded from behind my father’s throne. “Your Majesty.”
I peered over my shoulder to find Andras hunched close to my father’s ear, and he discreetly handed him a small vial. He whispered quietly enough so I couldn’t hear anything he said. My father dumped the vial into his mouth. His composed face darkened, and he stilled, turning to face Andras.
“It is happening again?” the king asked a little too loudly.
Though my gaze remained on the field, I desperately tried to eavesdrop on what had caused my father obvious fear. The second either of the two men knew I attempted to listen in on them, the conversation would cease.
“Yes, my King,” Andras said quietly. “The village of Demarva has been overrun again. We must send more troops now in order to quell the unrest.”
Normally, I never heard these kinds of conversations. My father and his advisers were so careful when they spoke of the darkness, ensuring I remained far enough away so I couldn’t overhear them. Whatever happened rattled the king to the point where he forgot I sat a few feet away. I had to take advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself.
“More troops at this rate could leave us vulnerable to?—”
I leaned sideways, as their voices lowered to an almost undetectable volume.
My father rotated to look at me, so I quickly scanned the stands, giving the onlookers a loving smile and waved at a few, only to prove my thoughts preoccupied. They didn’t start speaking again and I continued my crowd gazing.
Wait. What?
As my eyes passed over the men and women on the east side of the arena, I paused, narrowing them. A Fae, largely resembling Storm, sat in the front row of the stands. His gaze stood fixed on the contenders in the arena below. Apparently, Storm and Kade appeared as inseparable as me and Ian.
“No more than twenty, my King,” Andras muttered.
Straining, I shifted toward them, stretching, trying to be inconspicuous with my eavesdropping. Suddenly, a howl of pain startled me, echoing from the field.
I fell off my chair, sideways.
“Lana!” my father called.
But my head jerked toward the arena, where the scream had sounded, as I quickly picked myself up and sat back on my chair. “No,” I whispered, dread clawing through my body while trying to discern what had occurred below us.
Then, another scream sounded from the crowd, followed by shouts of fear.
Our entire pavilion’s undivided attention had shifted to the arena.