Grosbeak’s eyes met mine and he laughed as if we two were having a marvelous time.
“This will be a delight,” he said in a low, menacing tone. “Your funeral was not nearly long enough, Izolda. It makes the heart happy to see you back for a final showdown and a proper drawn-out death and burial. These pleasures should never be rushed.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said dryly. Let him stew on that.
Grosbeak waggled his eyebrows but his tone returned to lecturing as he laid out the next part. “Your skill will be tested. She who finds her prize may claim it. She who does not, will receive her doom. I confess, I would dearly love to compete. I have the exact skillset required for such a challenge.”
“Is it ugliness?” I asked. “Because I fear to inform you that I have the edge over my rival on that one.”
Grosbeak scowled. “I will have you know that despite your husband’s constant jests, I am glorious to behold, a delight of the eyes, a jewel among the Wittenbrand. I have been reliably informed on more than one occasion that my smooth wit and golden tongue bring delight to the ladies and I take every opportunity to practice and improve upon them. A skill you may soon wish you possessed as well.”
“What are we testing?” Ki'e'iren asked as beneath us a song broke out among the Wittenbrand. It was the old “Fly with the Arrow” tune again, sung badly but with great enthusiasm from thousands of throats and Grosbeak half-closed his eyes at the sound as if reveling in it. “Is it the skill of means of death? I can kill a thousand ways.”
“I’m sure you can,” Grosbeak said, amused.
A Wittenbrand hurried onto the platform bearing four silk scarves. Two were white and two were black. Grosbeak held them up and looked back and forth between us before settling on white for Ki'e'iren with a wink for me. Yes, yes, very ironic to choose her as the innocent. I rolled my eyes at him. I was used to his antics by now and though I could barely suppress the storm in my insides, I thought I could at least manage to do this with dignity and a sense of humor.
The assistant, a Wittenbrand with long ears that ended in tufts of fur, and eyes so black they looked like night, deftly tied our hands behind our backs, making the knots so tight that they hurt.
I wondered if Bluebeard had stayed to watch. It would have been a comfort to see him in the crowd. That he held me so dear and yet with such light fingers hurt the heart just a little.
Can you hear me, husband of mine?I asked with my mind, but there was no response. Perhaps I’d lost the skill. Or perhaps he merely was not listening. Well. I’d chosen this. I’d have to see it through.
“… and she cannot manage a single one,” Ki'e'iren was saying as they lifted the blindfolds to our eyes.
I stole one last glance at Grosbeak who cocked an eyebrow at me, and I could not tell if that was cruelty or kindness in his eye as mine were bound shut. With him, it could very well be both.
“And now the terms,” he said when we could no longer see him. His growling voice sent shivers up my spine — and not good ones at all. The world seemed a madder place with my eyes and hands made useless. “You both claim to be the wife of one man. Who should know him better than you? You must choose him now from among all the Wittenbrand present. The rules state that none here may speak to you with their lips, nor touch you with their hands, so do not press them to do either.”
“But how shall we find him then?” Ki'e'iren said and it was almost a wail. “This seems impossible!”
Grosbeak laughed, a cruel, delighted laugh. “Doesn’t it? And that is the charm of it. Why did you think it was called a Jape? This is not meant to entertain you, but to entertain us. Whichever of the Wittenbrand who so will, shall parade themselves up to this platform and by their salutation, you must identify your husband.”
“What does that mean?” Ki'e'iren asked, sounding irritated. A chill crept over me. This could not be as simple as it sounded.
“By their blandishment, they shall make themselves known.”
Uh oh. I was starting to suspect …
“I do not follow.” She bit off every word.
“By presentation of endearment, so shall your fate be recognized.”
When neither of us spoke, Grosbeak huffed out a frustrated breath. “Everyone gets a chance to kiss you and you have to pick which one is your husband or you lose. Is that so hard?”
“But which am I to choose?” Ki'e'iren asked. “The original or the Bramble King? He who was named Coppertomb before?”
“You tell me,” Grosbeak said. “I’m no expert in matters of your heart.”
And at our surprised gasps he laughed so hard that I heard him yelp as his hooves skittered sharply on the slick surface of the stone hands and his cry grew fainter as he — I was quite sure — fell from the platform to the crowd below.
I was not worried about him. It would take worse than that to kill my old friend and adversary. But my mouth was dry at the prospect of kissing half the Bramble Court in exile and my heart hammered in my head. What if I chose wrong? What if I did not know my Bluebeard by his kiss? So much depended on this.
I should have known that Grosbeak would choose something so …icky … as the means of our battle. I had seen Wittenbrand with the lips of serpents. I’d seen them with double layers of teeth. I’d seen Grosbeak’s rotting mouth and tongue. My stomach heaved at the thought of kissing him. I was no mermaid to brave that. This was not the easy option. I could very well die of this. Slowly, from disease, rather than quickly from the edge of a blade.
Worse still, it would not be so easy to identify my husband for there were just as many angelic Wittenbrand as there were horrific. Just as many with thousands of years to learn to bestow perfect kisses. With no guide to who was who, I would be lost.
“I suppose you’re feeling superior right now,” Ki'e'iren said in an undertone. “But you should know that I have an advantage here. I have vision that exceeds that of most mortals and guess what? I can see through this blindfold. It’s blurry, I’ll admit. But I bet it’s better than what you are bringing to this contest.”
