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He knows. Oh shoot, he knows.
His jaw stiffens before he practically sneers in Sigurd’s direction. “Just like his father.”
“What?”
Galen shakes his head. It speaks volumes. Not here. Not now. Which probably means never, since I’m basically locked in a gilded tower when I’m not competing.
I refuse to be like my father.Sigurd’s words echo through my mind.
“I could feel his presence on you,” Galen says, “but I thought he’d marked you, that maybe you wanted to be fae.”
“Marked? That’s not—” I pick at the thick fabric bracelet, but he closes his hand over mine.
“No. A mark is a mating bond.”
I wrench my arm back and screech far too loudly, “A what?”
Others turn our way, and it’s all I can do to plaster a fake smile on my face and laugh like he’d just said a joke, not dropped a bomb on me. A mating bond? Seriously? My chest burns at the implication. That’s what he thought hung between Sigurd and me?
“It feels similar.” Galen shrugs.
“You can feel this?” I look at my arm then back to him.
“All magic can be felt.”
“So everyone here thinks we…” My throat goes dry at the thought. Oh great. Just peachy.
“Most likely.”
The laugh that bubbles from my lips isn’t faked. At least Uncle Mark knows the truth, but all these fae… I stare at the other competitors. No wonder they dislike me. It wasn’t just that I’d left Sigurd’s box to join them. They assume we’re lovers.
Just great. Maybe it’d be better if they knew the truth instead.
“So.” I cough, trying to rid myself of his revelation. “What do you want if you win?”
All his features melt into a shroud of sorrow. After a lengthy pause, he says, “I want to go home too.”
“You’re stuck here?”
His gaze is somewhere far away when he answers. “There’s a woman back home who I love. We left things…poorly.” He shakes his head. “I at least owe her a proper farewell.”
My chest tightens. Separated from someone he loves. It’s a pain I’m all too familiar with. I reach for his hand to comfort him when a sharp whistle from the announcer commands attention. I knit my hands behind my back instead.
The announcer drones on long enough that I almost miss it when he switches to the important details.
“Today, our contestants shall search these woods to find this.” He holds up a white flower with a purple stem, and a gasp catches in my throat. It takes everything I have not to look at Sigurd. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s not possible.
“The cadmum is a rare and beautiful flower,” the announcer begins as his assistants carry flowers around for us to view up close. But all the announcer’s remaining words are unhelpful. “All methods of hunting are permitted. The last ten competitors to return with a fully intact flower, or any who do not return by sundown, will be eliminated.”
Find a flower in the woods? I groan and stare at my boots. They’re comfortable enough but still. Freaking weird fae games.
“Begin!”
Fae race for the woods faster than champion sprinters. Some disappear completely. Another sniffs the air and then puts their nose to the ground, tracking scent like a bloodhound.
“Might want to hurry,” Galen says before he takes off after the others.
Chapter 14
