Page 40 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

T here is a knock on my door, but I do not answer. I’m not surprised when the door opens anyway.

“Pippa,” Father says, and the bed dips as he sits next to me. “We must announce a winner.”

I nod but do not answer.

“This was not your fault,” he says after several moments of silence.

I turn to him. “If I hadn’t requested the tournament, he wouldn’t be…”

His eyes crinkle with his sad smile. “I thought you hated him.”

“That does not mean I wish this.”

He wraps his arm around me, squeezing my shoulders like he hasn’t done since I was young.

He sighs, and it’s a weary sound. I will not be surprised if he steps down so Percival may take the throne soon.

“There are consequences to every choice we make. Lionel paid for his choice. That is not your fault.”

I lay my head against his shoulder. “I feel so guilty. Because no matter how terrible I feel…I’m so relieved.”

“Pippa,” he says, bumping my shoulder so I will look at him. “I am fiercely proud of you and what you did.”

“Are you?” There are stupid tears in my eyes. I’m so tired of crying; all I’ve done the last few days is weep.

Father chuckles. “I would never have allowed you to sacrifice yourself, but I am proud of you all the same.”

I give in to a few tears and hug him tight. “Does that mean I may marry Archer?”

“No, Pippa. He’s not eligible.” He squeezes me and then gently pushes me back.

I wish the dragon had eaten me.

“Galinor?” I ask.

Father frowns, and I know from the look in his eyes it won’t be Galinor either. “Galinor has been disqualified. Rigel is the winner.”

The announcement is to be made in the great hall. Nobles sit toward the front, while villagers stand in the back. The sun is just beginning to set. Yesterday at this time, I was to be promised to Lionel.

There are no celebrations today.

Father stands, and a hush falls over the already subdued audience.

“Though we have all been shaken by the tragedy that has befallen Prince Lionel, it is necessary we announce our champion. As the tournament tests the competitors on strength, resourcefulness, and tenacity, it is imperative each man completes the events himself.”

Galinor lowers his eyes, studying the floor .

“For that reason,” Father continues, “Lord Rigel of Errinton is our champion.”

Polite applause follows Rigel up the stairs. He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his, and he lowers his forehead to my knuckles.

“I am not the one you want,” he says when he looks up.

“I—”

He smiles, and the expression reaches his dark eyes. “I sent my page on an errand, and he returned early this morning. It was not in time for your promising ceremony yesterday, and for that I am sorry.”

I don’t understand. “Lord Rigel?”

He stands and turns to my father. Loud enough for all in the hall to hear, he says, “I cannot accept the win, King Ewan.”

I gape at him, stunned. Father looks surprised, but he allows him to continue.

“There is one who has bested me.” Rigel looks behind me. When I follow his eyes, I find Archer standing with Father’s elite. My heart leaps in my chest.

He can’t be.

Father sighs, and I know he doesn’t want to repeat the conversation from my room.

Rigel continues, “I knew Archer’s maternal grandfather. Lord Greymond Archer passed away several years ago. He had no sons, no brothers, and no living male relatives. My page has returned to Errinton to speak with my king to verify this information.”

My head is reeling. What’s he saying? He sent his page to find out what exactly?

“Archer is the legal heir to his grandfather’s lands and title,” Rigel says. “He is as much a lord of Errinton as I am.”

I don’t dare breathe. Archer looks shocked, and he’s shaking his head as if he doesn’t understand.

Father scrunches his forehead, running his hand along the lines. “Even so, he would have had to participate in the tournament.”

“He brought back the dragon treasure,” Irving calls out.

Galinor steps forward. “King Ewan, he competed for me in both the hand-to-hand and the joust when I was injured.”

At hearing this news, Father gives Galinor an incredulous look, and the prince once again shrinks back.

“It’s true,” Percival says.

“He brought back all the items in the scavenger hunt, as well,” I say. Excitement begins to build in my belly, but I try to tamp it down, not wanting to get my hopes too high. “He killed the grim boar, he found the maid-of-the-shadows, retrieved the inger egg, and he figured out the sheep!”

I glance at Mother and Leonora. Their eyes are huge and hopeful.

“I didn’t secure the Eldentimber resin,” Archer says, finally finding his voice. No one pays him any mind.

“He didn’t compete in the archery tournament,” Father says.

“He did!” I jump up from my seat, unable to contain my joy. “He demonstrated every round—he even shot the arrow from the air. If he had been officially competing, he would have won. ”

Irving rolls his eyes, taking it in stride that I just ripped his only win away from him.

Father’s eyes meet mine, and he rubs his chin. “How many points is that, Percival?”

“Four for the scavenger hunt,” Percival says, taking away the point for the win and the Eldentimber resin. “Six for the archery tournament, four for the dragon treasure, six for the joust, and four for the hand-to-hand, giving him a total of?—”

“And my two chosen points!” Archer raises an eyebrow when I call it out, making me flush.

“Twenty-six points,” Percival says.

Irving whistles at the impressive number. Even without my chosen points, Archer would have beaten Lionel by four points.

I stare at my father. He must give Archer the win.

He must.

“Lord Archer of Errinton is our champion,” Father says finally, his voice loud and clear.

The crowd erupts with applause and cheers, but I am rooted to the spot. My eyes are on Archer, and I’m scared to believe this is truly real.

“King Ewan.” Archer’s eyes never leave mine. “May I marry your daughter?”

I break eye contact and turn to Father. Suddenly my father’s laughter rings through the air.

“Go on,” he says, motioning to Archer.

I leap forward, wrap my arms around my father’s neck, and then rush to Archer, moving as fast as I can run. He meets me halfway and lifts me into the air, wrapping his arms around me so tightly I can barely breathe .

“Let’s perform the promising ceremony now,” Percival says. Leonora clings to his side, and he wraps his arm affectionately around her shoulders.

Archer and I separate, and Father steps behind us.

“Lord Archer,” Father says, and a thrill runs through me when I hear it. “It is your right as the tournament champion to claim Pippa’s hand in marriage. Do you wish to marry her?”

“With all my being,” Archer says.

“Pippa, do you agree to marry Lord Archer in a month’s?—”

“Tomorrow,” I interrupt.

Archer nods, squeezing my hand. “Tomorrow.”

Father narrows his eyes at me. “In a week’s time?”

Fine.

“Yes, I do.”

Father nods, appeased. Mother hands him a silver ribbon. “Hold out your hands,” he says.

I set my palm on the back of Archer’s hand, and a tingle of excitement travels from my fingertips all the way to my toes. Father ties the ribbon around our wrists, joining us together.

“The promise is binding,” Father says, finishing the ceremony.

He unties the ribbon, and Archer’s hand turns under mine, joining our palms together. I lean forward, smiling at Archer—my Archer. “You were wrong. A princess can marry an archer.”

Archer smiles and leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong in my life.”