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Pissed.
But I couldn’t let her know that. Even if we were allies, it was still everyone for themselves, and I couldn’t let anyone see how badly Kelvin had gotten under my skin. Or the severity of my injuries. I rubbed the sore spot on my scalp and opened and closed my mouth to pop my jaw back into place. At least I’d held my own—longer than Irving or anyone else. At least I wasn’t a coward.
Not that it mattered, as my name was still dead last, but I hoped it’d be enough. My belly cramped—it had to be enough.
The courtier jogged up to the top of the dais and held up a hand, waiting for the court to settle. “Thank you. Thank you. This concludes the assessments. Competitors, when your name is called, please step into the center of the room. Sentries, should you wish to mentor the named competitor, please step forward as well. Should there be multiple guards who volunteer, the named competitor may decide which one they’d like to pursue further training with. We’ll begin with the highest ranking.”
I anxiously fiddled with my ring, unable to keep still. The seconds ticked by with painful slowness. I wanted to get this over with—to know—to breathe. These last forty-eight hours of nerve-wracking torture had me wound up so tightly it threatened to split me in half.
“First up, is Kelvin Amhurst.”
The fae court went wild as he swaggered to the center—no doubt the fan favorite—and bowed to the king. I kept my sneer to myself as four sentries stepped out of line, each as burly and muscular as Kelvin. To no one’s surprise, he chose the largest of the guards and together stood side by side on the edge of the mat.
“Aeron Beckworth,” the courtier announced next.
Five guardsmen stepped forward to claim him and, like Kelvin, to no surprise, picked the most intimidating one of the group. Typical. Meatheads always stuck together. I hoped their size wasn’t a sign of skill or we were all screwed.
One by one, competitors’ names were called, and they each selected their guard until it was only Lewis and me remaining. No one had yet to be turned down, and the selection of promising-looking sentries dwindled away.
I’d noticed, as the courtier had gone through the line of competitors, Talon hadn’t stepped forward for anyone. He appeared bored, almost as if he had a hundred other things he’d rather be doing—how inconsiderate of us to waste his precious time. If only our miserable mortal lives weren’t so pathetic.
“Lewis Fields.”
Only one guard stepped forward for him. He was the smallest of the lot and didn’t appear much older than Lewis, but he happily obliged, sprinting to meet his guard in the center of the ring.
A scant number of guards lingered, numbering less than a dozen, their presence a dwindling force. The chance of being picked stood on a knife’s edge.
“Elowyn Rosewood.”
The fae court inched forward in their seats as they awaited to see who would step forward, and I shifted on my feet.
The suspense in the air thickened.
“Does anyone here wish to train Elowyn Rosewood?”
Still, no one stood.
This couldn’t be happening.
King Harkin gleamed with anticipation at the turn of events, enjoying every minute of my embarrassment. Calandra and Breana wore the same pitted expression, while Aeron and Kelvin beamed with delight.
No, no, no! I didn’t get attacked by a wraith and almost died from infection for nothing. I prayed for the stars to take pity on me.
“This is the final request. Should no one step forward, Elowyn, you’ll be eliminated.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Dread wormed through my veins.
“I’ll do it,” a velvet voice drawled.
My entire body tensed as Talon strolled to the middle of the room with his hands in his pocket. Audible murmurs erupted, and the king raised a hand, silencing the bewildered court.
Against my accord, my legs carried me over to him—weak and trembling. Talon said nothing as we joined the other competitors on the side of the mat; the shit-eating gleam on his face told me everything I needed to know.
