21. Puck
If someone told me a week ago I’d be balls deep inside Lysandra, giving into all my wildest fantasies while she enjoyed every second of it…well, I’d believe them but I’d think they lost their damn mind.
I haven’t forgotten the words she said in anger. Somehow, a female who’s known me so briefly was able to strike where it hurt the most.
Go somewhere you’re wanted…if you can find such a place.
I didn’t even realize that was my biggest insecurity until those words clobbered me, knocking the wind from my lungs. Titania controlled so much of my life for so long that I have no idea where I’m meant to be. Before my curse, I would have said the mortal realm or the village where I grew up, but those don’t feel right anymore. So, if I don’t belong in the palace, as the ruler…
I need to win these trials.
I barely listened to Devorah’s announcement, biding my time until I could escape and be alone. Of course, Lysandra found me. We’re drawn together, two magnets trying to resist the pull. Tonight, we collided.
And, by the goddess, it was amazing.
I spent the rest of the party in a haze with a smile on my face that fooled no one. It was like all the tension that clung to my limbs was released—something only truly fantastic sex can do. I knew it was going to be explosive between the two of us, but I never expected that. That was… perfect. Mind-blowing.
I need more.
At some point, Edina and Eldoris ushered me to my rooms to help get me ready, but I remember none of it. Through the wall, I could hear Lysandra laughing and it drew all my focus. It took every ounce of control not to go to her room and take her again. My friends eventually gave up on me, and Eldoris packed my bag while Edina made a list of everything they included so I would know what to look for.
After sleeping like a rock, I wake feeling completely refreshed. Sharp and focused—exactly what I need to be before the second trial. I recheck the list Edina left and add a few more things before shouldering my pack and heading to the lawn.
I exit my room as Lysandra is walking past. “Oh!” She flushes bright red, a delicious little detail I didn’t get to see in the dark of the garden. I wonder how flushed she was last night and if her hips still bear reddened hand prints from where I gripped her. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I drag my eyes slowly back up her body to her face. Her eyes have returned to their usual hardened stare, but her pupils are blown. She’s thinking about last night as much as I am. “Stop looking at me like that,” I echo.
She gasps like she didn’t realize she was biting her lip and staring at me like she wanted to swallow me whole. “We should probably—” She jerks her head toward the stairwell, and I motion for her to go first so I can check out her ass in the leggings she wears. I realize the mistake as soon as I make it; now I’m half-hard and wondering if I could take her before we leave the palace walls.
“Listen,” she says, spinning around before she reaches the stairs. I dont stop until Im a breath away. “Last night…it was great.”
“Mmm,” I hum, toying with the hem of her tunic. She subconsciously arches into me.
“It was a one-time thing,” she says, her voice turning breathy.
“So you said.”
Her hands land on my chest, making the muscles jump. “I’m serious.” She swallows, her focus turning to my lips. “I’m not going to let you distract me from the trial today.”
“I agree completely.” I beam. She glares. “I’m not the one pulling you closer.” I look pointedly at her hand, which has fisted in my shirt and is tugging ever so slightly.
“I’m not the one with my hand on your ass,” she claps back.
I can’t help but laugh. “Can you blame me?” I squeeze it and use my grip to pull her to me. If anyone saw us right now, they’d think we were lovers. They certainly wouldn’t realize we’re in a feud that requires a ridiculous test to settle.
“I do have a great ass,” she muses, and again, I find myself chuckling. “And later, you’ll see it as I cross the finish line.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I cannot, for the life of me, understand why these trials start before dawn. The sky is painted a soft shade of periwinkle as the sun fights to make its appearance over the horizon. The air is crisp, and dew dots the grass of the lawn, slicking my boots and moistening the hem of my pants. Hopefully, we’re headed somewhere warm first.
Outside the palace walls, Devorah and the other two judges wait. The rest of the fanfare is absent today, and I wonder if that’s due to the party last night or something with the trial. I assume it will be a giant scavenger hunt for clues that will take us across the realm. Maybe everyone has returned to their home courts to watch the individual spectacles.
Or they’re hungover from the ale Lysandra served with her pizza.
“Good morning,” Devorah says. She’s more relaxed today, more like the Devorah I grew up with, and less burdened than she’s been of late. How much of that is due to her mother’s illness? I can’t imagine having to run her court in secret like she has been.
“Since it’s just us this morning, I’d like to go over some details of the challenge,” she continues.
“Could you maybe go over the whole spiel again?” I ask. “Some of us were distracted at the party.” I wink at the siren judge, and her lavender cheeks flush into a dark mauve.
Devorah rolls her eyes. “As I said last night,” she drones, unamused. “Today’s trial will take you to all six courts. When we’re done here, you’ll receive a clue that will lead you to your first challenge. Pass the challenge and you’ll get a clue to the next, and so on. These challenges will test your ability to think outside the box, your knowledge of the realm, and how well you react under pressure.”
“I’ll take your magic,” Celesta says. “That includes the use of your wings. Any magic you’ve managed to store in your packs is allowed.”
“Portal use between the courts is also allowed,” Raul, the werewolf judge, says. “And, as Devorah said last night, the final clue will be a riddle you need to answer when you cross the finish line.”
“Other than your magic, you may use every tool you have at your disposal. Take that as you will,” Devorah says with a devious smirk.
That sounds like she’s encouraging nefarious means of winning. I suppose that would fulfill the ‘think out of the box’ requirement of the challenge, but it’s surprising that she would say it so plainly.
“Any questions? Need me to repeat anything a thirdtime?” she deadpans.
We both shake our heads. I can feel Lysandra overthinking already. I’m not sure why she’s worried. From what I know about her, she’s studied Faerie extensively. She may know the realm better than I do.
The siren comes forward, shifting her hands into those pointed black barbs. “You’ll be given a water sprite scale once the trial has ended,” she says. Water sprite scales, when crushed and mixed with water, are the antidote to siren venom. They taste like anchovies, but they’re effective.
She approaches me and I dutifully stick out my arm. The puncture is swift, barely noticeable until purple and black lines snake up my arm aiming for my stomach, where the source of my power lies. Beside me, Lysandra grunts in pain.
Something akin to rage flares in my chest, aimed at the siren who hurt her, and I have to bite back a snarl.
Huh. That’s new.
I shake away the desire to attack the siren and comfort Lysandra, determined not to dwell on that reaction until after the trial. There’s no time to waste examining my baser male instincts; not today.
As Lysandra’s magic is suppressed, the luminous quality of her skin dims and her brown eyes lose their sparkle. She’s still obnoxiously beautiful.
“Huh,” Devorah muses, looking at my opponent. “I thought your hair color would change.”
“It’s not a glamour,” Lysandra answers. “It’s a potion. I apply it to my hair once a mortal year to keep the color.”
“Could you brew me one?”
“Princess,” the werewolf chastises, and Lysandra fights a chuckle as Devorah realizes where she is and the role she’s supposed to be playing.
“Right,” she says with a little extra formality. “Here you are. The first clue. Your trial begins now.”
She withdraws two rolls of parchment from thin air and extends them to us. Lysandra pounces on hers, grabbing it with greedy hands, skimming over the words before I even take mine. While this trial may be a race, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. Lysandra may have studied the realm with Vlad, but not even he knows the number of secret passages and routes that I do. I’m certain reading the first clue faster won’t put me at a disadvantage.
Unrolling the parchment, I read the simple instructions.
Luck is elusive
Chance is fickle
But fate can be stolen
“What the fuck is that?” I demand. Lysandra is staring at the parchment as if more words will appear if she looks hard enough. Devorah wishes us luck, and the three judges walk past us, returning to the palace grounds.
I ignore the first sentence—it could mean anything—but there are several places to play games of chance. One of the taverns nearby is famous for its poker games. I’m not sure how that ties into the other two lines, but it’s as good a place as any to start.
I start walking toward the tavern, which is nestled in the Varesen forest on the way to Autumn Court. Walking toward a destination has to be better than standing still…unless, of course, I go in the wrong direction.
After a few paces, I glance behind me and find Lysandra still puzzling the scroll. The sun has crested the hills and bathes her in an otherworldly light. Even without the magic shining beneath her skin, she glows.
Her mouth parts, then she lifts her eyes to mine, trying to cover the reaction. She’s had an epiphany…but what? How? I halt, waiting to see what she does next.
She strides toward me but doesn’t enter the forest, instead opting to travel the length of the Etherealia Meadow. She’ll miss the tavern completely if she takes that path.
I watch her go before lifting my scroll again, wondering what I missed. The light hits it at just the right angle, and then I see it. “Son of a bitch.” It’s so faint it’s barely visible, but in the background of the parchment is a four-leaf clover.
The next clue is with the leprechauns.
My guess was close. The leprechauns are known for their penchant with games of chance, but they’re not in the tavern. Most live in the Autumn Court in the underbrush of the Varesen forest. While they’re known for luck in the mortal realm, in Faerie they’re cheaters.
Which means I’ll need to steal a little fate and cheat them right back.
I understand why Lysandra thinks the meadow is faster, but she’s wrong. There’s a much faster way to the Autumn Court than walking. I make a beeline into the forest, aiming for a tree with a gnarled knot in its trunk. To an outsider, it’s unimpressive save for the red and white polka-dotted toadstools that surround it, but it’s so much more. I grab the knot and yank. Bark separates, forming a perfect doorway that emits a blueish-purple mist.
A portal.
I step onto the ley line and the mist swirls around me as I hurtle in the direction of Autumn Court. If I remember correctly, the leprechauns prefer the underbrush near the portal entrance because of the proximity to unsuspecting travelers. Most of us know to avoid their games, but occasionally, they’ll find a few gullible souls who think they can use the leprechauns for luck.
The portal exit smells of cinnamon and apple mixed with leaves and hay, and there’s a chilly breeze wafting from the open doorway. I wait until I’m about to pass, then bend my knees and jump into the Autumn Court.
I’m not sure I’ve ever used a portal without the use of my magic to slow my descent. Without my wings, I smash through the exit in a heap, colliding with a freshly fallen pile of leaves.
“Hey,” a gruff voice yells. As I orient myself, I realize a very small male is sitting on my chest, punching me with his tiny fists. He’s about the size of a pinecone, his features compressed in perfect miniature. He’s wearing a brown plaid suit that clashes with his orange hair.
“Sorry, friend.” I clamber out of the way, placing him back in the pile of leaves. “You wouldn’t know where I could catch a game, would you?”
“Depends,” he says, his accent thickening. He runs his hand over an orange beard. “I’m waiting for somebody. Two somebodies. You have any identification for me?”
I show him the scroll, which is larger than he is, but he doesn’t seem phased as he takes it from my hands. He tilts it, holding into the slanting autumn light, and smiles a mouth full of yellowing teeth when he sees the insignia hidden in the background. “Have a seat.”
I sit on the floor before the pile of leaves, and with a breath that shouldn’t be possible from such a small body, he blows them away to reveal a table that he has to use a stool to reach. “Game’s simple,” he says, lifting three acorn tops. Underneath one is a small Cintron gem. “I’ll shuffle the acorns. You find the gem and I’ll give you your next clue.”
I nod in understanding.
He chortles. “Round one.”
He moves the acorns so fast they’re a tawny blur. I swear he must grow an extra limb because it seems he never lifts a hand off any of the tops. I follow as closely as I can, but when he stops and looks at me with anticipation, it feels like my eyes are crossed and my brain is scrambled. I take my best guess, pointing to the acorn to the right. To nobody’s surprise, the gem isn’t under there.
The second, third, and fourth times, I’m able to follow along easier. It doesn’t matter. Every time I think I know where the gem will be, the leprechaun tricks me. I know this is where I’m meant to cheat, but I was hoping the game would be cards. It’s easier to pocket an ace than it is to switch the location of a gem.
After the fifth game, Lysandra shows up. “Welcome, princess.” I gesture to the forest floor next to me.
“How did you beat me here?” she asks with a scowl, swinging her bag off her shoulders. “The meadow is a shorter route than the forest.”
“Unless you take a portal.”
She swears colorfully as she sits. “I can’t believe I forgot about the fucking portals.”
The leprechaun asks for identification, and that’s when I get an idea. She hands the male her scroll, and as he’s holding it up to the light, I shift like I’m crossing my legs, bumping the table in the process. The gem rolls out and I snatch it before Lysandra or the leprechaun notices.
He curses my clumsiness, and I raise my hands in surrender, showing empty palms. The gem rolls up my sleeve to the crook of my elbow, wedging itself in. The leprechaun explains the game to my opponent, and when he realizes the gem is missing, grumbles about the challenge costing him coin. It hasn’t. He can just procure another one—which is what he does, drawing the gem out of thin air.
I spend the next few games observing everything about the leprechaun’s patterns and habits. While I initially thought he was switching the gem between acorns at the very end, I realize a few games in that he’s switching them somewhere along the way. After we each guess incorrectly, he flips over the last acorn, proving the gem was in there the entire time. Slowly, I formulate a plan. We alternate guessing first, so I need to wait until it’s Lysandra’s turn to make my move.
Once I’ve gotten the pattern down, I slip the gem back into my hand and lean forward, propping my arm on the small table. The leprechaun shifts the acorns again and motions for Lysandra to choose first, and luckily, she chooses the one closest to her. “This is awful.” I slam my hand on the table when her acorn appears empty. Just as the acorns raise slightly, I roll the gem into the one closest to me.
“Calm down, boy,” the leprechaun snaps. “Pick your poison.”
I point to the one closest to me. He starts to lift it with a sneer, and then I see him realize his mistake. Lysandra is watching him like a hawk, barely blinking. If he tries to palm the extra gem, she’ll notice and he’ll have to let us both pass. Despite being tricksters, leprechauns are prideful. They’d rather lose than be caught cheating.
His eyes meet mine, and I lift my brows in challenge. He scoffs and flips it over to reveal the gem. When Lysandra abandons the acorns to stare at me, he slips the spare gem into his hand and turns over the third acorn top.
“Here ya go,” he says, withdrawing a scroll and handing it to me.
“How did you do that?” Lysandra asks, her voice bordering on desperation.
“Doing what I do best,” I whisper, leaning in close. “Playing dirty.”
I stand and give her and the leprechaun a mocking bow while he barks at Lysandra to start again. Taking my scroll, I walk away, enjoying my lead for as long as it lasts.