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Sigurd snuggles me tighter and places a kiss on my hair.
But the cold, hard knot in my chest isn’t one he can shield me from.
The last day was possibly the happiest of my life. From our night tangled together in the sheets to a day spent flying in his arms, splashing in the lake, and smiling until my cheeks hurt.
The rising dawn twists each happy memory into shards of glass that slice me up inside.
Either I’ll win today and leave, or I’ll be trapped here ages longer. Gran might be okay if I have to stay here. I hope so. But—I lean back against Sigurd’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his pulse—how could I ever leave him then? Already the thought makes me ill. I tossed and turned so much in the bed that I couldn’t sleep and eventually found my way out here. Sigurd was quick to follow and cloak me in his warmth. A blessing and a pity. Standing with his arms around me, knowing it can’t last, is the sweetest misery.
A heavy sigh slips from me.
“You’re still determined to leave if you win? To go home?” It’s the first words he’s spoken this morning, each as quiet as a distant whisper.
“Gran needs me.” I say it as much for myself as for him.
“Your uncle can check on her. Even if she cannot see him, he can see her. I’ll send others with him to speed his journey and see that he makes it back. We can send food, gold, jewelry, anything she needs.”
Yes, it’d be good for Uncle Mark to see her again, even if the reverse isn’t possible. Food, money, it would all help. But a key element is still missing.
“Those things alone can’t see to her needs. Hopefully, my cousin has looked after her, but Tabitha has so many kids of her own to manage. Gran needs someone who can be there for the everyday things, getting up in the morning, taking her medicine, and helping around the house. She needsme.”
“Wren.” He turns me in his arms and forces me to look up into his still sleep-mussed face. “What do you think she would want?”
I rear back, but he holds me close in the warmth of the blanket.
“If she were here, if you could ask her, what would she want you to do?”
The lump that forms in my throat threatens to choke me. I know exactly what she’d say. Gran prodded me for years about going to college. For the education, yes, but more than that, I think she just wanted me to get out in the world, to experience life beyond our small town.
When I meet his steady gaze, I can tell he’s read the answer in my silence.
Still, I say, “She spent so many years caring for me after my parents died. Years that should have been hers to enjoy. How can I leave her now when she needs me the most?”
A deep sigh slips from Sigurd’s lips before he pulls me back against his chest. I cling to him, savoring his warmth, his scent, and his strength. I’d give anything to freeze this moment, if only just a few minutes longer.
“At least it will be safer for you in your world,” he whispers.
Because war is on the horizon.
He hadn’t wanted to tell me, didn’t want to darken our day of joy, but I all but forced it out of him. The Unseeliearegathering together, amassing and joining forces for a purpose that cannot be good—at least not for the Court of Air or any Seelie court. Relations are no better with the Court of the Forest. Fae grudges run deep, and theirs is fresh, new and bloody. It could be war on two fronts at any moment. As a human valued by the king, I’d be a target here, maybe a significant one. There are more than enough people who dislike Sigurd and who would see him suffer. Harming me would be an effective method of that.
Even so, it doesn’t dampen my resolve to stay at his side for however little time remains.
His arms loosen, and I almost cry out in protest. I know what comes next. I dread it.
“We should get you back,” he says.
I nod, my cheek sliding against his chest before I reluctantly pull away.
One more challenge. One winner.
And it has to be me.
I’m numb walking into the roaring stadium. I’m as empty within as I was while Moria dressed me for the event. She said little, me even less. Moria blamed the looming war for her silence, her mind busy working through various strategies. At least she has a good excuse. My war is so much smaller, contained within me alone.
The winner will be announced after this last event. They will be presented before the king—before Sigurd—and drink from the cauldron to receive their reward.
Cauldron willing, anyway.
