Chapter 4
Arina
Two soldiers stand behind a table covered in the queen’s banner outside the lists. I’ve been watching them for hours as we set up the healer’s tent.
The field here is bustling with life. It’s the most people I’ve seen in one place for years.
Commonfae are desperate to earn a position in the Queen’s Guard.
For many, it’s the best way to guarantee food for their families.
My eyes land on a man near the edge of the road, huddled over his wife and two children.
Their clothes are torn and dirty, and both children have dried mud stuck to the skin of their legs.
I wonder how far they traveled to be here.
I can’t hear him, but he must be saying something that excites them, because they’re all smiling up at him.
Guilt bubbles in me at the thought that I might take that opportunity from another who needs it more than I do, but I shove it down. If I can join the guard and make a difference, it will be worth it. I can help them. And Demitra will survive without me.
I’ll have to work up the courage to march over and add my name to the sheet of competitors before the night ends.
“Arina!” Phillipa entwines her arm with mine and tugs me away from the tent. She must have finished setting up her bar cart early.
The other healers glare at me, and I shoot them a look of apology as Phil drags me through the crowd.
“Did you hear? Apparently, the prince is here. I heard something about him competing in the games.”
I stop in my tracks, barely noticing the crowd of people I’ve offended as they brush by me. Her words are nonsensical, and it almost makes me wonder why someone would spread such a blatant lie. What is there to gain from it?
“That’s not something to tease about, Phil.” But the look on her face tells me she is dead serious. She really believes it. “Has the Smog gotten to you? Even if he had existed, which we do not know for sure, the prince is surely dead,” I say flatly.
The stories I’ve heard are all a little different, but they each line up in a few ways. There may have been a young prince, but he was not named or celebrated in Lukasia at his birth, which is the custom for the royal family when announcing an heir.
The same night a crazed zealot broke into the castle and King Cornelius was murdered, The Smog began to roll in, blocking us out from the other realms. Queen Daphne has never spoken of either of them.
I pity her and feel a sense of kinship with her. The rebels stole things from both of us, after all.
Phillipa is feeding her own delusions today, it seems. “I don’t know! It’s just what I heard. And how insane would that be?” She chews on a dried piece of fruit that she picks up from one of the vendors, like she hasn’t just dropped the most insane rumor in my lap.
“And he’s just, what? Been in hiding all this time? Why wouldn’t he go back to the castle to be with his mother?” I have so many questions. It seems people are so miserable they’re making up fantasies. I almost feel bad for poking holes into the fairytale.
The thought of an heir existing somewhere in Lukasia, but never having shown himself, stirs up a ball of anger in my stomach. What kind of coward wouldn’t step in to try and help his kingdom?
Phil scrunches her nose in thought. “Maybe he knows something we don’t.” She gasps and then whispers, “Maybe he believes the rebels and thinks Queen Daphne had King Cornelius taken out?”
“You have an even better imagination than I do.” I laugh with my friend. There is a nagging feeling that something is watching me again, but I shrug it off. There are so many people here today, I’d be silly to think anyone’s focus is on me.
She continues to pull me along, weaving a tale as we go, “Think about it! What if we go to one of the tournament banquets, he spots you from across the room, asks you to dance, and you fall in love? You could be royalty by the end of the week!”
“No more mead for you! We don’t even know what he would look like,” I tell her, swatting at her hand as she reaches out to grab another glass of ale from her booth.
“Besides, I’m more concerned about winning my place in the guard than falling in love.” I honestly had forgotten about the banquets.
She gives me a look as if I’ve just stamped out all her hopes and dreams, so I make her a promise, “How about this? I will accept a dance from anyone who asks at any of the banquets we attend.”
Her smile returns, and she gives me a squeal.
“You could do a lot of good as the princess of Lukasia, is all I’m saying.”
She’s not wrong. Maybe I’ve gone about this from a bad angle. I allow myself a moment to fantasize about what life in the castle might be like, and all the good I could accomplish from such a position.
We walk by all the different booths. Locals are taking advantage of the increased population to peddle different goods and wares.
There are many offering pottery, as clay is an easy enough thing to come by. Vases, bowls, cups, and even some decorative molds, lay on tables made of barrels and scrap wood.
Even some faces I don’t recognize have booths of goods that must have been brought from far away, because Spoikos has nothing like what they are offering.
The clanging of wood on wood draws my attention to two small boys near a vendor who has carvings made from a type of wood I’ve never seen before. The toy swords the boys are playing knight with are made from the same material.
The children weave in and out of the crowd, climbing over wagons and crates as they advance on one another, shouting and taunting the whole time.
I laugh and jump out of their way when they come near, glad to see some joy is left in the world.
Phil dances and skips through the crowd, offering a smile to everyone she passes. The buzzing energy of the people is making my very bones vibrate.
At one booth, firelight hits a small copper-colored ring, catching my eye.
I hover my hand over it, and look to the woman selling, silently asking if I might pick up the ring. Her weathered face is framed in white curls, and her blue eyes shine when she gives me a nod.
The ring is delicate, and I roll it through my fingers, getting to know its shape. The material has been melded to mimic a vine, and tiny leaves wrap around its entirety. It’s mesmerizing, but I set it back down.
Healers and knights do not wear jewelry, and there’s no room in my life for trinkets.
Phil snatches me up, linking her arm in mine. She’s holding two long, thin sticks that are skewered through some kind of charred meat.
“What is that?” I crinkle my nose when the scent of smoke burns it.
“Best not to ask,” Phil says as she rips a piece off her stick and chews.
The Smog has withered away at the land so much that we don’t have many animals left, which means meat is in short supply. I’m not going to turn down a meal, but mystery meat is not exactly appealing.
I close my eyes and take a small nibble. The skin crunches and sticks in my back teeth, but the meat itself is moist, and the taste is like any other meat I’ve ever had, which isn’t much to go by.
“It’s actually not so bad,” I tell her after managing to swallow.
At the end of the walk, Phil stops me in front of the soldiers with the log of participants.
I reach for the quill to put my name down, but one of the soldiers slaps his swollen hand over mine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the fae demands, deep wrinkles and scars mar his face.
Out of shock, I take a step back, pulling my hand out from under his.
“I’m applying to compete,” I say, looking around for a familiar soldier to vouch for me. There has to be one somewhere.
“Like hells you are!” A vein in his forehead begins to protrude.
“Is everything okay?” a deep, oddly welcome voice asks. My cheeks heat in response. I wanted to do this without any help from Eryk, but I guess he’s my best option.
“No!” I say at the same time the soldier says, “Yes. I mean, no, sir.”
Eryk grabs the quill from the soldier and hands it to me.
“Really? It sounded a bit like you weren’t going to allow this talented fae to show us her skill in the Queen’s tournament.” He seems to be singing a much different tune from the other night.
Not wanting to push my luck, I add my name to the long list of contenders as quickly as I can.
“Thank you, Eryk,” I say, a little reluctantly.
“No need to thank me. Just save me a dance at the banquet this evening?”
“I’m not sure that’s—” I start, but Phillipa cuts in.
“She’d love to! See you tonight!” And she whisks me away.
“Phillipa!” I squeal at her.
“No time to argue! You promised. Plus, we have to go get you ready.” She wags her eyebrows at me and pushes me down the road toward her house.
It takes me a few minutes of listening to the rhythm of our footfalls on the dirt, but eventually a thought pops into my head.
I grip my nails into Phillipa’s arm. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ve been trying to get your ass to a nice event for years. You don’t think I’ve prepared for this exact moment?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I’ve got a plan.”
I should have known.