19. Chapter 19
Michaela
D ahlia woke me early enough that I didn’t fight any of her wardrobe or hair choices at all. Warmth and quiet were my only requirements. She could have dressed me in a porcupine costume and I would’ve rolled with it. Once I made it to the dining hall, it didn’t help my mood that every other competitor looked thrilled by the notes we’d received. Meanwhile, once again, I was in the dark.
After picking out a chocolate pastry, I moved to the far side where the other misfits like me had congregated. With so few left, the groups had shrunk. I nudged Sadie while she picked at a croissant. “So, I didn’t know half the words in that little invitation we got. Any chance you can fill me in?”
Blair overheard my question and decided to take it on herself. “It’s all Nolcovian culture. It has to do with our history and folklore, but it’s all pretty complicated to explain. You’ll probably get bored.”
“Basically,” Dagny piped up, ignoring everything Blair said, “the snoods are sneaky and steal things, and Sagure will destroy you if your ram army isn’t in place.” She lifted an invisible sword above her head as if calling on her forces to attack. “Guard the gates and scream Haishee!”
Two others around the room echoed her cry, “Haishee!” like it was a perfectly natural thing to do before the sun came up.
Dagny shrugged. “Hug a Limadith, snork an Aoger, and then you’re dandy.” She frowned and stared at me. “We’ve been playing since we were kids. You haven’t?”
Words had ceased to have meaning. What on earth was she talking about? And since when did everyone act like Dagny was the sane one?
“It’s a game,” Eirene clarified, as she took pity on me “It reenacts one of our battles for independence. One side was trapped and the other came at them. They fought back and prevailed with the help of unusual soldiers and,” she smirked, “if you believe the fairytales, a few mythical ones too. When we play, we make teams and we try to steal the flag of the other team. The winner calls ‘Haishee!’ and the game is over.”
Okay. A cultural round of Capture the Flag. I could get behind that.
“And Haishee means what exactly?”
“She is mighty. Because we are, aren’t we?” Chantal injected herself into the conversation, draping her long arms over Sadie and Blair’s shoulders. “But you forgot the best part, Eirene.”
Blair shook her arm off, clearly not appreciating her presence. “If we’re in groups, the rule won’t stand, Chantal.”
Chantal’s full lips trapped between her teeth as if she had a delicious secret to devour. “You don’t know that, Blair. He might keep to tradition. A girl can hope, can’t she?”
“Or he’ll make us fight to the death for the honor,” Dagny said with a touch too much excitement.
What were they talking about? I couldn’t even claim to be a lover not a fighter, I was a runner and hider most of the time. Especially with Dagny talking about fights to the death. She was nutty enough to try.
“He won’t do either,” Blair snapped. “The prince is classier than that.”
Chantal smirked as if she knew better. “He’s still a man, and it would be his reward as well. This many women playing at once? How can he resist?”
“I don’t… I’m sorry, I just don’t—”
“It’s tradition,” Sadie explained. “When Sneaky Snood is played officially for the royal court, like today, the winner is bestowed with a reward.” She cleared her throat, cheeks reddening. “A kiss from the reigning royal at the match.”
My brain stuttered. It didn’t take long to add up the logic. “But that would mean…”
Chantal giggled at my naivete. “Pucker up, ladies. The prince is calling.”
I rode with Dagny next to me in the van. Again, she took it upon herself to try to teach me Nolcovian history, but she did it in her very Dagny way. Between the sneaky snoods and daring Aogers, I felt like I was in a Dr. Seuss book. I heard something about two hills, flags, and a forest of spirits called Eonix, but she never mentioned if they were friendly, and it left me nervous. This wasn’t some backyard game of Capture the Flag. This was an honor, closer to how an American would view a Gettysburg reenactment.
We piled out of the vans just as the sun peeked out from behind the distant mountains. What started as a sliver grew with every passing second until the mountains became bathed in blinding light. The rays of sunshine sent sparkles cascading over the snow, creating a path that led directly to the prince.
Since I’d arrived, Fitz wore only suits and button-downs with slacks. But there he was, jeans, a hoodie, and a beanie with a matching scarf, looking average in attire, but dashing in style. I had to admit, I liked this version of him best.
The same excited energy radiated in his eyes as well. Was it due to the game or the women he was about to spend the morning with? A shadow of stubble darkened his jawline, reminding me again that he wasn’t the awkward teen I used to know. The slight shadow aged him in the best way, but also brought attention to his eyes, dark and captivating. As we locked stares, my breathing increased, my heart picked up its pace, and I became all too aware of my lips. I broke away first, unnerved by our connection.
Friends , I reminded myself.
I was here to help him find a wife, not become one.
Always present, camera crews waited, blinking red lights indicating that filming had already started. Nothing was private. I needed to be careful. Even with the crews sunk six inches in the snow, they would do anything to get a shot that could be twisted to make the show a breakout hit. I needed to be sure I didn’t give them anything they could use.
Corbin Snyder stood higher than the others, and it only took me a moment to see snowshoes strapped to his boots, a surety that he wouldn’t sink like the rest of the crew. Tell me you think you’re superior, without telling me you’re superior, am I right?
“Ladies,” his booming voice and bright-white smile called us closer, “what a beautiful morning here in the Nolcovian Gorge! Are you ready to prove your heart to your prince?”
Of course, we were. Why else would we all be out here sinking in frigid drifts of snow other than to prove to him that we were looking to win his heart?
I stopped for a moment, thrown by my own thoughts. Well, not me. Just the rest of them . I shivered and rubbed my arms, blaming the lapse on the cold temperatures. Obviously, my logic center had frozen solid.
“Ladies,” Fitz’s deep voice stole my full attention, “you all grew up hearing the legend of Thessalview Gorge and the battle that was waged here. King Fitzborough fought valiantly, overthrowing the city of Aynor in the name of Nolcovia with the help of his army .” Fitz grinned, and a few others giggled at his word choice. “He was able to topple the walls and end the tyranny of Sagure, the destroyer of life.” In one dramatic sweep of his arm, Fitz pointed to the distance. I followed the direction, curious. Grey stone coated in the latest snowfall created a gorgeous contrast. Remnants of the ancient wall stood high in some places, but had been destroyed in others, like remains of another place and time, reaching toward us across the centuries.
“Now,” Fitz eased the sober atmosphere with the faintest grin, “I’m not requesting anyone to play the enemy, but we will break into two teams. You’ll each hide a flag somewhere in Winderlam Forest, one team to the north and the other to the south. First to bring their opponent’s flag here will be the victor.”
My nerves eased. Apparently, it wasn’t like Capture the Flag. It was Capture the Flag.
“Of course, we need snoods. One from each team.”
What was a snood? I’d only heard that word once before, when I’d angered Dagny before the obstacle course and she put curses on my cows and wished the snoods to steal my shoes.
Of course, Dagny’s hand went up first as a volunteer. I felt the need to tighten my laces. Eirene volunteered within moments. I wasn’t sure about the pairing. But unlike me, Fitz smiled like he couldn’t have planned it better himself. Maybe he had.
“Smashing. Let’s crack on.”
“Your Highness,” Esme raised her hand, bending to look down the line of us, “we’re uneven. Perhaps a third snood or…” her haughty smile curved into place, “the American can sit out since she’s not familiar with Nolcovian lore.”
Before I had a chance to accept, because, quite honestly, I was incredibly grateful for her need to leave me out, Fitz frowned.
“We’re not uneven, Esme.”
The raven-haired beauty took a step forward and started counting, determined to prove the prince wrong. I had to admit, last I checked, there was nine of us. But it was Blair who said, “We’re nine in number, Your Highness.”
Fitz crossed his arms over his chest, making his chest thicker and my skin went tingly all over again. “That would be true, except, I will be one of the team captains as well. Now, there are ten by my count.” He waited for the chatter to subside before he turned to Sadie. “Lady Sadira, you’ll play the other captain, yes?”
Sadie’s eyes went wide with worry, but she didn’t object. Maybe that was enough for him.
Chantal’s hand shot up and I braced myself for her complaint that Sadie wasn’t worthy. But the noblewoman had other concerns. “Your Highness,” she shot a quick glance at Esme who nodded eagerly, “before we begin, some were wondering if the traditional reward stands.”
Fitz cleared his throat, shifted his stance, and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, nearly knocking the beanie off his head in the process. “You want to know if the prize for the winner is a kiss?” Chantal nodded eagerly, heat in her eyes that made me look at my shoes for a second. When I looked back up, he couldn’t hide the naughty schoolboy grin on his face. “I’ve never been one to shirk tradition. It stands.” As if he knew Esme’s pending question before she got her hand up, he added, “For the one who finds the flag first.”
I gulped. At least for a minute, I had my own team on my side. But with the prize being that coveted, even my own team would be out to get me.
Which was stupid.
Kissing Fitz was the last thing I wanted.
“Lady Sadira, you may choose first.” Fitz motioned for her to start. I didn’t see the point in the playground picking structure. I knew how the teams would fall. Sadie would pick her friends, obviously starting with Blair and then—
“Lady Esme.”
My face betrayed the shock I felt and somehow I knew they’d caught it on camera. Big ol’ zoom-in moment for the American with attitude. But excuse me, since when were they friends?
Fitz nodded thoughtfully and I prepared to walk forward. Obviously, this was the one time he could pick me first.
“Blair.”
Okay, this was getting nuts. I couldn’t predict anything. Sadie didn’t even frown. Was there a strategy to this game that I didn’t—
“Lady Michaela,” Sadie’s voice jarred me. I stared, unmoving. At least, for once, my expression matched the rest of them. Nobody believed she’d pick me, especially not Fitz. He struggled to hide his frustration. Maybe he figured I’d be left until the end, but Sadie had screwed it all up.
Or maybe he knew my team would win because I was on it.
Probably the first one.
“Gwen,” Fitz said, sounding defeated.
“Chantal,” Sadie gave her final pick, surprising me yet again.
“Minny,” Fitz answered, but since she was the only one left, we all knew.
Gwen’s arm snaked around his waist, pulling close like they were a couple already. He cast a glance over his shoulder to find me. Shrugging, I understood his confusion. No one should have picked me, but Sadie did.
“Okay,” Sadie held our flag, a simple blue cloth, in her hands, “we need a warrior to hide the flag and guard it and three rams to work as defense.”
“Well,” Chantal smirked, “I’ve kissed him enough already. I’ll take one for the team.” Without another word, she pulled the flag from Sadie’s hands and started toward the forest, leaving Sadie, Esme, and me to stare in stunned silence.
“I know we’re supposed to play nice,” Esme cocked an eyebrow, “but for the record, I don’t like her.”
Strange, that made me like Esme more.
“Come on, we need to get into the forest to spy on their warrior if we can.”
“Be careful, ladies.” Fitz passed by us with Gwen under one arm and Minny under the other. “Don’t forget, the forest is haunted with spirits.”
“And Dagny,” Esme added.
“Brilliant.” Fitz winked.
Esme whimpered.
Sadie gasped.
I rolled my eyes because it’s really hard to take a guy seriously after you’ve seen him do karaoke to “Barbie Girl,” complete with dance moves.
Which I had.
Twice.
If only I had video to prove it.
“So,” I felt the need to get some clarification, “how haunted are we talking?”
“Not that bad.” Esme shrugged. “We only lose about fifty people a year.”
My feet stopped as a form of protest. But Sadie and Esme kept going.
I opened my mouth to ask again but gave up and jogged after them.
Weird, but I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.