Page 3 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

I take his hand and drag him to the mouth, careful to step around the jagged rocks at the entrance. Just inside is a flat, open cavern. I pause here, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.

“I can’t see a thing,” he says, trailing behind me.

“I know where I’m going. ”

Keeping his hand in mine, I move forward. Our pace is slow until I see a faint white glow up ahead.

“Maid-of-the-shadows,” I say when we reach the lights.

Tiny, delicate bell-shaped flowers grow in clusters along the floor and in cracks in the walls. Their white light does little to illuminate the tunnel, but they themselves are bright.

“They’re amazing.” Galinor reaches down to touch one.

I stop his hand before it grazes the white bloom. “Don’t touch it. They are hallucinogenic. The poison can seep in through your skin.”

“Don’t you usually have to eat a poison for it to affect your mind like that?”

“Not this one. Don’t sniff them either. Their pollen is more concentrated than the powder on the bells. People have died from breathing in maid-of-the-shadows.”

“How are they pollinated deep in this cave?”

“Cave beetles.” I point out the tiny black insect. “Oh, look. There’s one.”

We linger for a moment longer.

“They are stunning,” he says. “Are you ready to go back now?”

He’s clearly anxious to return.

“This isn’t what I came to show you. Come on.” I move farther down the path.

We take several turns. Despite Galinor’s increasing insistence we are going to get ourselves hopelessly lost, the cave opens into a final, gigantic cavern.

His sharp intake of breath tells me this trip was worth the trouble. Thousands of shimmering stars not only wink from the large opening in the cavern ceiling, but they also reflect from the rock floor, where a vast, shallow pool of rainwater has collected.

I pull him to the edge of the pool and hop across rocks of various sizes sticking out of the water. In the very middle is a bigger rock, just the right size for two people to sit on comfortably.

“What do you think of my cave?” I’m feeling more than a little smug right now.

“I have no words for this,” he says, still in awe.

I study him while he watches the stars in the water. He balances on the rock with ease. His arms are built like he favors a sword, and his easy grace tells me he excels at it. He’ll do well in the combat events, but how will he do in the scavenger hunt? How will he do against a dragon?

He looks over and catches me staring at him.

“Did you come to the tournament to win, or did you come for the sake of the competition?” I ask.

“At first, I came simply to compete. Win a title, if possible.” His eyes search mine. “But now I would very much like to win.”

I have found my knight—I have found my victor.

“I choose you,” I say, my tone solemn.

Galinor closes his eyes and lets the words soak in. It’s a great honor to receive the two extra points a princess may give to her chosen, and it has made the difference in dozens of close tournaments.

Winning means prestige, honor…and me.

The evening is going so well, I don’t check to see if the mouth of the cave is surrounded when we step out. It’s too bad, too. I scream as hands pull me away from Galinor. I’m so startled I think my heart is going to come out of my chest.

It only takes me a moment to realize these men are knights, and they are in Lauramore’s gold and sapphire.

And there’s Father.

Indignant, I shake away the hands. Once free, I take a deep, ragged breath.

Galinor is not faring as well as I am—there are five blades pointed at his chest. His face is void of expression. He makes no excuses or pleas but waits for his punishment in silence.

I wish I could reassure him that Father is quick to temper but fair in judgment, but that would only bring more wrath on us both, so I stay quiet.

“Pippa,” my father says, and there’s so much frustration and anger in his voice that I shrink back a little. “Let me see the ring.”

“Father!” I exclaim, thoroughly mortified. The look on his face is nothing less than terrifying, but this is too much. In front of all the knights? How could he?

“You will show me the ring.” His voice is like thunder.

I hold out my hand, looking over his shoulder at the forest beyond. From the corner of my eye, I see most of the knights look away, not wishing to witness my humiliation.

Father inspects the enchanted purity ring—which is still a perfect, unblemished, shining gold.

“Fine.” He drops my hand. He’s still furious, but the anger has lessened. He signals to his knights, and they drop their swords. Father turns his attention from me. “Prince Galinor, whose fault is it that we find you here?”

Galinor swallows but looks otherwise composed. He stands tall. “Mine, Your Majesty.”

My father narrows his eyes. “Are you saying it was your idea to traipse through the woods to a cave you’ve never seen in your life?”

A few of the knights snicker, but they snap their jaws shut when Father sets his steely gaze on them.

“No, King Ewan,” Galinor says. “But I showed poor judgment, and that is entirely my fault. I could have prevented the outing had I tried harder.”

“I doubt that.”

There are more snickers and another steely-eyed gaze.

Father crosses his arms over his chest. “Let this be a lesson for the future, young Galinor. I hope you will use better judgment in the tournament.”

I sigh, relieved. Galinor may still compete.

“As for you,” Father says, turning back to me. His voice doesn’t sound as forgiving as it did a moment ago.

I have no idea why.

What will it be this time? Twenty written pages? A day assisting Yuven, the herbalist? Oh, I hope he doesn’t let Anna decide my fate.

“You will go to your quarters.”

Go to my quarters? That’s all? I want to laugh out loud and spin in circles and dance, for this punishment is the best I’ve received yet.

“For twelve days. ”

My gasp is chorused with sixteen others—fifteen knights and one very shocked prince.

“I can’t miss my own tournament!” I exclaim, overstepping my boundaries by a lot.

“My mind is made up. If you would like to add more days, keep arguing.”

I mount Willowisp, shaking with horrified fury. Only one word churns in my head—the vehemence I have toward it leaves no room for other thoughts.

Archer.