Rev
“Icannot believe sheis here. What is Zanter-Leisha thinking?” Brielle tosses her arms up in frustration, her red hair a strangled mess from all the times she’s run her fingers through it. “Allowing a fae murderer into her court?”
“Especiallythatfae murderer,” Nante adds.
I cross my arms and sink deeper into the cushioned chair by the flickering fire. I don’t blame their anger—Brielle hates the betrayer as much as anyone, and the High Queen is her great aunt. To her, this is a betrayal of very different kind.
“They announced pardon for any fae who enters and wins, long before the Shadow Court chose a champion,” Rook says in a flat voice. Always logical.
“Absurd!” Brielle says. “They knew. They knew the first moment they could get that girl back through the fae land gates, they’d do it. It fuels their damn rebellion.”
I blink at her insight. “True.” Although, it’s only the beginning of a rebellion, the whisper of discontent. No violent action has been taken. Yet. Part of me wonders if allowing the lesser courts to enter—with the expectation they’ll lose quickly—was in an effort to quiet the rebellion, rather than fuel it.
See, we’re gracious enough to give you achance.
My emotions have been so strong for the last several hours that now I am simply exhausted.She is here. She will die. That’s all I need to know.
I care about winning. I care about solidifying my place as heir to the High Court.
Today is the final day before the trials begin, and I am already in a good place. I have friends in several of the highest-ranking courts, and we will all work together. Brielle is from the Flicker Court and has been close to our family since before my brother’s death. Rook is an old friend from the Twisted Court, which neighbors my own. Both powerful allies. Prickanante is Brielle’s tagalong friend from the Frost Court. She’s not very strong, but she’s a number, and I’ll take it.
“How are you so calm?” Brielle huffs, the flames behind her blazing, twisting and then settling back down.
“I’m focused. Winning is what matters now.” The sparks flutter through the air before fading into nothing.
“So, you’ve... accepted it? Your sworn enemy. Your brother’s murderer has the chance to become a hero in our world and... you don’t care?”
I clench my jaw and sit forward, pressing my forefinger to my temple. “Of course I care,” I say with a sharp anger. “I’m simply focusing my rage into something more productive than grumbling.”
She rolls her eyes and snarls.
Brielle hates the witch as much as any of us, so I cannot blame her for her passionate reaction. She’d barely known my brother, but they were fated mates. She would have been his bride. His lover. His queen. Together, they’d been destined to have an important child.
That future is gone now, all because of the Shadow Court witch.
“Fine. Whatever. Be all zen about it. But why? Tell me why they’d do this, to you, your family, your court, to me?”
I sigh. “Because this trial is about more than politics.”
Her eyes flare, the fire popping along with her. “What does that mean?”
I stand, facing the fire, my hands clasped behind my back. “They want the best fae to win. It doesn’t matter what that means for our political world. Fueds and power struggles no longer matter. Our very survival is at risk. That is what natters.”
I bite my tongue from continuing, as my father’s harsh words come back to me. Words I don’t want to recount to my allies. To my competition.
My weakness. My father says that’s the reason they’ve opened the competition to the lesser courts—the High Court’s heirs are not strong enough. If I were indisputably strong enough to lead, they’d have just picked me as the savior. They’d have chosen me as the High Court heir.
