37. Lysandra
“Without further ado, let the trial begin.”
The guard blocking the doorway steps aside and motions me forward. My stomach lurches so violently that, if I had breakfast, I’d be bent over heaving. Something isn’t right. Why didn’t Devorah announce the name of my opponent? Or my name, for that matter.
I spent the entire night preparing myself for every possibility. Edina may be convinced she’s my opponent, but I think it’s going to be worse.
In the back of my mind, one thought niggles my brain, insisting I give it attention. Someone whose power matches mine…the last Fae I’d want to face, barring my family.
No. That would be too obvious.
Making us face our opponent for the first time on the battlefield is only for dramatic effect. That’s all. It can’t be anything else. Even as I tell myself that for the hundredth time, I’m not convinced.
Goddess, please don’t let it be who I think it is.
When I don’t move, the guard gives me a look, and I take one final fortifying breath in the cool stone hallway before stepping into the arena.
It reminds me of a football stadium mixed with the Colosseum. The seats are made of the same russet rocks that form the Oraiste Mountains and they’re packed with Fae from every court, who are screaming and stomping their feet—ready for a fight.
There aren’t many places to hide in the arena, only a few strategically placed rocks. The rest is dirt that bakes in the unrelenting sun and turns to dust.
I curse myself for not bringing sunglasses. We’re not allowed to summon anything or we’ll be disqualified, but I can barely see from the glare. All I can make out of my opponent is a tall, thin shadow, which does me absolutely no good because every elemental Fae in this damn realm is tall and thin.
Knowing my opponent can’t see me either, I take the moment to stash my bow behind a small rock. I probably should have chosen a dagger or something smaller as my weapon, but I’m better with a bow and arrow. I keep my quiver wrapped around my waist and take a few steps closer to my opponent.
Who in the goddess’ name is that?
They’re not attacking first, so I don’t know what kind of magic I’m fighting against.
The Fae reaches for their side, toward what I think is a scabbard. Interesting that they’re not going for their magic first, but okay. I flick a vine at the hand that was reaching for their weapon and they dissolve it easily before sending a vine right back at me.
“No.”
I hear his voice before I get a clear look at him. It pierces through the white noise of the crowd like a gong. I step into the shade of the rock formation near me, needing visual confirmation—even though I know what I’m about to see. I could feel it in the way his vine touched me. Vines that gave me pleasure two days ago now feel like a curse. The final nail in the coffin that is our relationship.
Puck’s auburn hair is a mess from his fingers, the way it always is when he’s nervous. The tunic he’s wearing is cut off at the sleeves, bringing attention to the lean biceps and forearms that have lifted me countless times. And his eyes. Those brilliant emerald eyes are wild.
I hoped… Against all odds, I hoped I was wrong, that my brain was just my brain conjuring worst-case scenarios.
But my intuition was right.
And now, one of us is going to die.
Neither of us will surrender, so unless one of us manages to knock the other out, there’s no way we’ll both walk out of this arena alive.
The crowd roars around us, eager for bloodshed. The Fae are vicious creatures at their core, so this is prime entertainment. And if everyone knows about us—which they probably do—then this is better than the finale of any reality television show. They’re practically salivating for the two of us to begin.
Puck crosses the arena with slow, even steps, but I’m rooted to the spot in the shade of my boulder. The sorrow for what I have to do overwhelms me. I blink back the tears that have formed a shield over my eyes, but a lone drop falls off my cheek and onto the parched ground.
It’s not fair. It was bad enough that I had to give him up, but making us fight is cruel.
He comes closer, standing a few feet away but he doesn’t attack. “Did you know?” I ask, my voice pitched low to keep it from wavering.
“I thought of the possibility last night,” he says, swallowing audibly. “I didn’t think they’d do it.”
I hunt the stands and find the rest of the second generation in a private box. Our friends are the only ones who look terrified rather than excited. Edina is gripping the railing, the wood beneath her hands turning to ice from her magic despite the hot temperature. Radley is yelling at the monarchs, gesturing wildly. Even Devorah looks shell-shocked.
None of them knew.
I’m not sure that makes me feel better.
“I don’t want to do this,” Puck murmurs, stepping closer. A vine coils in my hand, ready but not willing to attack.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“What if we do?” He’s a few strides away from me now, his arms at his sides with his palms facing me, no magic in sight. “Let’s surrender.”
The noise of the arena must be louder than I thought. There’s no way he said let’s surrender. He probably told me to surrender.
“We’ll surrender together,” he says again, and I heard him clearly that time.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably,” he laughs. It’s a free, unburdened sound. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him. It’s the sound of someone who’s figured everything out, of someone who’s seen the light for the first time after months of darkness. “Let’s tell them we won’t fight each other.”
“And then what?” My voice is a little too high-pitched, a little too hysterical. I was hyped up and ready for a fight, and now the excess adrenaline and shock in my system are making me shake.
“Then, we run away together.”
He’s seriously lost his mind.
All I’ve heard him talk about since I arrived in the realm has been this court and all the changes he wants to implement. Even when we were in a truce, he told me his ideas. As for me…this trial is the culmination of everything I’ve worked for my entire life. Now, he wants us to abandon it?
“We can go wherever you want,” he continues. “We can go back to the mortal realm and be with your friends, or move closer to your family in the Day Court. Hell, we could even move into my mom’s village if you want to stay in our court, but we can be together. This is the only thing that’s ever come between us. Let’s cut it out of our lives and give our relationship a chance.”
“You don’t mean that.” The noise of the crowd turns to a pulsing I feel in my temples. It makes me feel faint.
“I do. The other night, you asked me what I want.” His eyes well with tears. “It’s you, princess. It’s always been you.”
The sound of the arena quiets, eclipsed by the words ringing in my ears. It’s always been you.
As if that isn’t enough to send me reeling, he says, “I’m in love with you, Lysandra.”
If I thought the world had gone silent before, I was wrong. This time everything falls away except me and Puck. The arena is gone, the screaming crowd disappears. All of it—silent.
“You love me?” I breathe.
Puck’s smile softens. “I’ve loved you since the moment you tied me to that damn hedge in the maze. It just took me a long time to realize it. I can’t imagine the rest of this life without you in it.”
I don’t know what to think, or how to respond. There’s a part of me that wants to walk out of this arena so I don’t have to deal with his confession. Another part of me—possibly the larger part—wants to run into his arms and ride off into whatever kind of fucked up happily ever after we’d make.
Do I love Puck? Is that what this feeling is?
I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love before; I never allowed myself to feel that deeply for anyone. I have no idea what it’s supposed to feel like. I expected it to be…peaceful, in a way. My relationship with Puck is anything but. It’s turbulent and passionate and desperate. And yet, I find comfort in his embrace, solace in his arms. He makes me laugh as often as he drives me crazy.
“Come on princess,” he says, stepping forward the slightest amount. “Let’s surrender. Let’s give this a chance and see what we can make together.”
I’m not sure I can take this leap of faith alongside him.
I try to imagine what my father would say. He always wanted me to be queen, but I think, more than that, he wanted me to find somewhere I belong. I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere more than I do with Puck.
That’s my answer. I want Puck more than I want to rule. I’d rather have a quiet life with him than a lonely one on a throne.
I can do this. I can choose this for myself. I can let go of all the expectations and…be happy.
I lift my vine-covered hand, starting to banish the magic. Just as my arm is fully extended, Puck’s stance widens and his hand sparks green, a vine wrapping around his wrist.
The realization crashes into me with the force of a moving train.
He’s tricking me.
Again.
Just like he did in the second trial. He waited until my guard was down, and now he’s going to strike.
It feels like I’ve been thrown head-first into freezing water while wrapped in iron, the weight of which pulls me down, down, down. My skin tingles as though it’s being stabbed with a thousand tiny needles. My heart throbs, curling in on itself and retreating to a dark corner of my ribcage.
Stupid. How could I be so fucking stupid? I almost gave up everything for him.
Puck’s eyes land on my bare hand, and they widen before his magic disappears. “No, princess, that wasn’t—”
“Liar,” I seethe. My vision goes red as I push aside my hurt and pure, feminine rage takes its place. “You’re such a fucking liar.”
“It was an involuntary action, I swear. I thought you were going to attack.”
I refuse to listen to any more of his bullshit. That’s all he knows: tricks and deceit. It’s all he was known for in the mortal realm and it never stopped when he was here, certainly not with me.
“Did you mean any of it? Or was it all a ploy because you can’t beat me in a fair fight?”
He winces, my blow hitting its mark. “Of course, I meant it,” he says, voice breaking. He takes another step forward and my vines snake out from the dry, cracked earth, winding around his ankles and keeping him in place. “Please—”
“No.” The crowd is going insane now that something is finally happening, the booming cacophony reaching a crescendo.
“I love you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I resume a fighting position and wait for him to free himself from my binds. He remains where he stands, looking like I kicked him in the gut. “Fight me,” I bellow, cracking a vine near him like a whip. He doesn’t even block as it winds around his waist and starts to squeeze.
He frees his sword from his scabbard. I knock it aside, sending it across the arena. “I wasn’t—” he sighs. “I’m not going to fight you.”
“You keep saying that, and then you keep fighting me.”
Another one of those pained sighs. Another vine I send his way goes unblocked, this one wrapping over his chest.
Then, still bound, Puck drops to one knee. “You’ve won, Lysandra.” His eyes are dull, every bit of playfulness, mischievousness, and mirth has been leached from his soul.
My magic reacts on its own, protecting me with barely a thought. Rocks skid across the ground from amidst the sandy rubble and form handcuffs that secure Puck’s wrists. Vines wrap almost every inch of him until all that’s left is his face and its utterly broken expression.
“I concede,” he says, magically amplifying his voice. Then, quietly, to me, “The crown is yours, Your Majesty.”
Your Majesty.
Not princess. Not Lysandra.
Your Majesty.
It doesn’t feel like I thought it would. The words, the sight of him on his knees before me—something he insisted he’d never do—doesn’t feel like victory.
It feels like something died.
The crowd goes nuts, partially angry that the battle didn’t get bloodier, and partially thrilled to see someone win. Puck averts his eyes, refusing to look at me.
Is it possible he wasn’t lying? That he wasn’t trying to trick me?
My mouth opens and shuts like a fish. My voice struggles to work, to ask those questions aloud.
“Um,” Devorah’s voice rings out over the crowd, sounding completely and utterly confused. “The victor is Lysandra.” In the monarch’s box, I see them all staring, mouths agape. Even stone-faced Gwyneira looks stunned. “Long live the queen.”
The entire stadium chants the phrase, screaming my name. Guards emerge and grab Puck, dissolving my magic and walking him out through the tunnels. He doesn’t look back.
Exhaustion from the roller coaster of emotions threatens to overtake me. I don’t know what to think, what to believe. The image of Pucks lifeless expression replays over and over again until I want to break down and cry.
Someone opens the gate that separates the seats from the arena, and Fae make a beeline toward me. Larisa flies over the crowd, her large white-feathered wings allowing her to get to me first, and she wraps me in a giant hug. My body shakes as I return her embrace, and bury my head in her shoulder. A tear slips down my cheek, one that I’m sure everyone thinks is joyful, but I’ve never felt pain like this.
The other monarchs take their time congratulating me and welcoming me into the role. Edina gives me a quick hug and then disappears, no doubt to make sure Puck is okay.
Citizens of the Spring Court come next. Reina, on the shoulders of a male who must be her father, tosses me a flower crown.
It’s hard to revel in their celebration when I can barely breathe.
I realize none of them heard what happened between me and Puck. Izar tells me they could see we were talking, but everyone assumed it was trash talk. The only one who seems to realize something is wrong is Hades, who sticks close to me even though I know it’s killing her to be around all these simpering Fae.
“I don’t know what happened,” she whispers, grabbing my arm between well-wishers. “But enjoy this. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
I don’t know if that’s true anymore.