Page 20 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

“ H e did not!” I exclaim at a whisper.

Irving shrugs and helps himself to another portion of roasted boar.

I shake my head. “Lionel bought the pearl?”

“That’s the rumor.”

Since Irving’s gorging himself tonight, I figure I might as well do the same. I reach for another scone and slather butter over its sugary, golden crust. I bite into it and moan in appreciation.

Irving raises his eyebrows.

“Have you tried one?” I ask, covering my mouth with my hand because I haven’t completely swallowed.

My mother will die on the spot if she sees me.

Irving doesn’t answer, his mouth too full of grim boar, but he does reach for a scone. After he finishes, he says, “There is another interesting rumor floating around.” He wags his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Go on,” I encourage him.

He leans forward as if what he is going to say is a big secret and whispers, “There are tales that your master archer is smitten.”

The large bite of pastry I just took suddenly feels dry and crumbly in my throat. I work to swallow it. Irving is watching me with hawkish eyes, and I haven’t answered soon enough.

“Is it true his mother was from Errinton, and that his grandfather is a lord?” he asks.

I nod and finally swallow the bite. “Archer doesn’t like to speak of his family, and I don’t wish to upset him.”

“I only want to make sure he’s suitable for our Marigold.”

I’m just taking a drink of cider to wash down the last of the scone, and I choke at his words.

“I don’t want to speak of Archer,” I say, and I’m afraid my voice sounds a little testy.

Fortunately, we don’t have to speak of him, because Bran and Dristan come to the table. Most people have wandered away, and seats are open for the brothers. Rigel is with them.

My shoulders tense. This man makes me nervous.

They offer their greetings, and then Bran asks, “What can you tell us about the next event, Princess?”

The dragon hunt.

Traditionally, men competing in the tournament would hunt and kill a dragon. Since the peace agreement was made between men and dragons at the end of the Dragon Wars, this is no longer possible.

“Have they not explained the changes to the dragon hunt?” I ask, surprised my father is waiting so long.

Dristan shakes his head. His white-blond hair is almost shaggy against his forehead. “We have very little dealings with dragons in Triblue. Even before the war’s end, they rarely ventured that far south.”

“He’s never seen a dragon,” Bran adds. His younger brother glares at him, his tan cheeks turning pink.

“Consider yourself fortunate,” Archer says from behind me.

I glance at the long scar on his arm as he joins us. He was a year younger than I am now. He seems to have been too young to have battled a dragon and won.

“Ah, welcome Master Archer,” Irving says.

“Just Archer,” he answers.

Galinor joins us, followed by Lady Marigold.

“Why do they call you that, Archer? What is your name?” Galinor asks.

Archer’s eyes flicker. “It is a family name on my mother’s side. My name is Archer.”

“Your mother is from Errinton, is she not?” Irving says, picking up on the juicy gossip I refused to discuss moments ago.

“My mother is dead.”

The table is silent for a moment.

Rigel studies Archer. “Your mother—she was Lord Greymond Archer’s daughter, wasn’t she?”

Archer waits a moment to answer. “She was.”

Rigel frowns but says nothing more. His eyes stray to mine, and I flinch when we meet.

“But this event—it will have something to do with dragons, won’t it?” Dristan asks, smoothly leading us back to his original question .

“You will hunt a dragon, track it to its hoard, and bring back an enchanted piece of treasure,” Archer tells them.

“Won’t that break the treaty?” Galinor asks, looking nervous. “I assumed the dragon hunt would be laid to rest.”

Marigold’s eyes are huge, and the color has drained from her already fair face.

“As long as you don’t harm the dragon—no. The dragon hunt is too important to disband completely.”

Only Rigel looks undisturbed by this information. He helps himself to an apple and takes a bite. His dark eyes study the others.

I feel like we have a viper in our midst.

“There’s no reason to dwell on it tonight,” Archer says. “Tomorrow you will rest and prepare, and the next day your hunt will begin.”

It was one thing for Leonora and Marigold to join me for music and geography this morning, but it’s a completely different matter when it comes to archery.

Apparently, Lady Marigold has never held a bow.

Shocking.

I aim at my target, doing my best to ignore Archer as he explains the finer points of archery to her. Careful to keep my elbow up, I shoot, hitting the target dead center.

“You’re very good,” Galinor says from behind me.

I lower my bow and glance over my shoulder. He’s been sparring with my brothers again, and there’s a slick sheen of sweat across his brow. This should be in no way appealing, but oddly enough, it is.

He’s rolled his tunic sleeves up to his elbows. The leather lacing at his chest has come partially untied, showing off a deep triangle of tanned skin.

He raises a dark eyebrow, as if he knows what I’m thinking. I flush and retrieve my arrow from the target. I yank it, but it’s stuck. Galinor reaches around me and pulls the arrow free. I turn, ready to thank him, when I realize how close we are.

Without thinking, I glance at Archer. It’s Marigold I notice. Her gaze flickers to the ground, embarrassed, and then she looks back to her target. Archer doesn’t notice his pupil’s distraction, and he continues to instruct her on how to stand.

Galinor follows my eyes. “It’s kind of him to teach her. I think she would be less timid if she had a way to defend herself.” His voice is quiet so Marigold won’t overhear us, and his tone is kind.

I nod, slowly. “She is timid, isn’t she?”

“It’s understandable with everything that has happened to her.”

I wrinkle my nose, trying to remember what exactly happened. Her family died in the Dragon War, and that’s all I know.

Galinor continues, “I spoke with her last night. She is very grateful to be included in the celebration. It’s kind of you to bring her in your lessons as well.”

Surely, I should be jealous that my chosen spent time with Marigold at the feast after I was made to leave, but instead, I’m relieved she was with Galinor instead of Archer.

That’s a problem, I believe.

I also feel a twinge of guilt. I didn’t include her; Leonora did. Galinor is so proud of me, and I don’t want to admit that. I haven’t been kind to Marigold at all. In fact, I’ve been ignoring her.

I don’t like this person I’m becoming. I’ve been jealous and calculating. Maybe Alexander is right—I need to leave it alone. Not just my feelings—whatever they may be—for Archer, but my meddling in the tournament as well.

“You look lost in thought,” Galinor says, a soft smile on his perfect lips.

“Have you ever wanted something you shouldn’t—couldn’t—have?”

My hair is falling from its braid. He winds a golden strand around his finger until the gold is completely covered by dark red. He looks up, his face serious. “I want you.”

I feel myself blush, and a smile comes unbidden to my face. “But you can have me. That’s the whole point of the tournament.”

“I don’t think I should. I won’t lie—you terrify me, Pippa.”

I take a deep breath. “Then why do you fight for me?”

He leans close to my ear. “Because I can’t help myself.”

A giggle escapes, and I have to bite my lip. I could be happy with Galinor, I really could .

My gaze wanders to Archer. His jaw is hard, and there’s fire in his eyes. He pretends not to notice us, but I saw how he looked away when I glanced up.

Perhaps I could be happy with Galinor, but only if I can forget that look in Archer’s eyes.