Page 24 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)
Lord Vasil
My cousin Sinclair was insufferable, but I maintained a carefully neutral expression as he went on about my newly betrothed.
“I’m simply concerned for your safety, Mercier.
A package that pretty has got to have an ulterior motive.
The fae queen is cunning, as you and I both know, and while we may have had our differences in the past, I much prefer having you as my neighbor than some fae despot.
You know my second-cousin Luther, the one we call Rush, became so addicted to fae blood that he chased his fae companion all the way to the frozen tundras of the Northern Realm and nearly met his demise, not to mention that contentious negotiation we had to undertake in order to have him returned from a tribe of bloodthirsty ogres.
No judgement there, but they really were terribly unrefined.
An elvish consort would be far less risky, but surely you must know that, which can only mean the fae prince has bewitched you already?
Such a tragedy. Sir Grantham, what do you think?
Am I right to caution my dear cousin, beloved sovereign of the elvish? ”
I narrowed my eyes at Grantham, a trusted family friend who’d been acting as a spy ever since we sent him to the Kazimir Clan several years ago. Lately, Grantham’s information had become increasingly more sparse and his allegiance more questionable.
“Aye,” said the over-large man at his side. “Right as usual, m’lord.”
I huffed at my cousin’s insinuation and tried to allay his fears, however performative. “While I appreciate your concern, Sinclair, I’m confident in my judgment when it comes to Prince Cedrych.”
He waved one hand dismissively. “Well, let it be known that I tried. On to other matters: this is neither the time nor place, but I have something of significance to discuss with you, cousin.”
“Allegations of an uprising?” I said, not wishing to feed my paranoia with Sinclair’s scheming.
“No, it’s regarding your parents.”
My parents? My senses sharpened and I inhaled deeply to detect his lies, but I smelled only the tannins from the river water that ran through the Celestial Gorge and hints of blood, likely from his last meal.
My cousin was frustratingly difficult to read, always had been, another reason why I didn’t trust him, especially when he poked at wounds that had not healed.
“You’ll need to give me more than that,” I said.
He adjusted his wine-colored cravat and said with a self-important air, “It’s a recent development pertaining to the party responsible.”
I bared my teeth in an embarrassing display of aggression and hissed, “What are you playing at, Sinclair?”
He shook his head in mock sympathy, smiling wide enough to show his own sharp teeth.
“So suspicious, cousin. I look forward to your invitation. In person, if you please. A summoning simply won’t do.
Sir Grantham,” he beckoned with an elegant pivot, and with a curt nod aimed in my direction, his guard of honor, my spy, dutifully followed.
Grantham had not alerted me to any new developments in my parents’ murder investigation, which meant he either didn’t know or he wasn’t sharing.
Sinclair could be spewing pure fiction, using this ruse as an excuse to gather intel on my fortress or plan his next bit of subterfuge. Perhaps he meant to harm my betrothed?
It’s regarding your parents.
And that was the power of my cousin, to throw my orbit into chaos.
Grumbling, I mounted the stairs to join the rest of my retinue with Sinclair’s taunts and accusations circling me like an Awelon Falcon.
Once there, I scanned the small crowd for my betrothed–simply out of concern for his safety.
My countenance lightened significantly upon spotting Cedrych’s gilded curls.
He and Anika were angled toward each other as she pointed out something happening in the arena below.
As I approached them, Cedrych glanced up and smiled brilliantly, the excitement of the day radiating from his handsome face.
The prince was no spy. I didn’t believe him capable of such duplicity, but there was no telling what the queen might attempt in the future.
Would an elvish consort be a safer choice?
Or a vampyre? One thing was certain, the affection I harbored toward the prince made me vulnerable should he choose to exploit it.
But the alternative–to remain isolated and alone for the rest of my days–was also rather bleak.
“Everything okay?” Cedrych asked, perhaps sensing my unease.
“Everything’s fine,” I said tightly and patted his shoulder before turning my gaze toward the tournament field.
On one side of the field was a series of targets, each set at varying distances and adorned with concentric rings that lit up when struck by an arrow.
Spectators of every kind filled the stands at the perimeter of the field, their murmurs of anticipation blending with the din of the contestants.
As I approached the rail of the balcony, situated just in front of our makeshift thrones, everyone in the arena fell silent and turned their gaze toward me.
I surveyed my subjects with fondness. Even the Keepers, who would rather see me deposed, were children of the elvish realm and belonged the land I’d been entrusted to rule.
I raised one hand in greeting and addressed the crowd, “Welcome, archers and esteemed guests, to the elvish Tournament of Champions!” I paused to allow for the thunderous applause that rose up all around and caused the wooden platform upon which we stood to vibrate.
“I have with me today a special guest, Prince Cedrych of the fae, who, as you may know, is also my betrothed. Please give him a warm elvish welcome.” I guided Cedrych to stand beside me and, clasping his hand in mine, lifted our arms to show we were a united front as the crowd clapped and cheered.
“He has joined us today to watch the best archers in all the realms compete for a position in my Royal Quiver. We look forward to seeing your talent in this competition. May your hands be steady and your arrows fly true. Let the tournament begin!”
After another round of applause, we took our seats and the royal bugler made the commencement official.
A hush fell over the arena as the first contestant stepped forward, a lithe figure with a hand-tooled bow slung across their back.
Their long chestnut hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.
They were too far away to determine if their features were masculine or feminine.
Perhaps just young. The archer raised their bow, nocked an arrow, and let it fly.
The arrow soared through the air, its flight as precise as if guided by the Goddess’s own hand.
The arrow hit the bull’s eye, the enchanted rings lighting up in quick succession, and the crowd erupted into applause.
The archer had made it look so easy, but I knew the hours of untold practice it must have taken.
Soon after, the meadow was filled with the rhythmic twang of bowstrings and the soft thud of arrows finding their mark.
Amidst the rounds of competition, that slender archer who’d impressed us out of the gates emerged as the early leader, drawing the attention of both spectators and fellow contestants.
Their movements were fluid, their arrows hitting the center of each target with unerring accuracy, seemingly without much effort.
Whispers of admiration spread through the crowd as the mysterious archer continued to dominate the field.
“Do you recognize them?” I asked Anika.
“No, my lord. We’d surely have recruited them by now.”
“They don’t appear to be sponsored by any of the trade guilds either,” I mused, for their drab clothing was without any markings or insignia.
“A foreigner, perhaps?” Cedrych offered, but the archer looked decidedly elvish to me, unless their ears were glamoured by magic or they were hiding a pair of wings under their cloak.
Tensions heightened in the final round. The sun had dipped behind the mountains, throwing the grassy field into shadow as the competitors faced increasingly challenging marks, which included moving targets.
The air buzzed with excitement as the final round of contestants took their turns.
Cedrych himself was on the edge of his seat, and I was thinking about later that night when I might undress him in my bedchambers and torment him with pleasure.
My study of the prince was so absorbing that I didn’t notice the slender archer pivot away from their target. Too late I glimpsed the point of their arrow, aimed right in my direction.