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Disappearing into the crowd, I find Zephyr talking—more like flirting—with a guard. I’ve seen him bat his eyes enough times to know. Looping my arm with his elbow, I drag him away before he can say goodbye to his newfound friend.
“What part of stay low didn’t make sense?” I hiss through my clenched teeth.
“Excuse me.” His voice pitches as we weave through the guests toward the exit. “I am staying low, but I’m also trying to make sure my best friend doesn’t die tonight.”
Releasing the air in my lungs, my nostrils flare as I stop and turn toward him. “You can’t help me.”
“I can and I did. The ogre is missing his right eye. It’s a blind spot, and the troll will rely heavily on his weapon. The dryad’s left leg is rotting, and the harpy recently broke one of its wings. It’s healed, but it’ll have lost mobility. As for the wolves, they’re all from the king’s guard. They’ll likely hunt in a pack and use formal tactics out of habit.”
Blinking, I raise my eyebrows. “I stand corrected.”
Zephyr’s eyes soften as the tension leaves his shoulders. “I might not be able to pick up a sword and help, but I’m still going to do what I can. Besides, I think Smee will kill me if I return to the ship without you.”
“She’ll understand.”
“I’m not so sure.” He shakes his head. “She carved my name into a small wooden box that apparently is for my testicles if you die.”
I can’t help but chuckle. That sounds like something she would do. “Smee’s just scared. We just lost our father a few months ago. I’d imagine she’s in no rush to lose her brother, too.”
“Well, I’m still going to try to get you back to the ship in one piece. My body parts don’t want to be her punching bag.”
The king calls for any final pledges and the conversations in the room dwindle to a low hum. There’s a sharp click of metal against the twisted goblet in his hand and everyone turns to the throne.
“Thank you all for coming. At nightfall, my mages will start to set the boundary for the event. Which begs the question...” he trails off, turning toward Scarlet. “As usual, my daughter will decide where the gauntlet will be held. Have you made your decision?”
Scarlet nods and her eyes find mine through the crowd. “Poseidon’s punch bowl, my king.”
“Fantastic choice.” He grins at her before turning back to the crowd. “As for the event, the rules stay the same. The last man standing will win my daughter’s hand in marriage and be named an heir to my throne. In the event of my natural death, they will be allowed to fight amongst the other chosen princes for the crown.” He folds his hands behind his back as he paces in front of his daughters. I don’t think the younger ones seated behind Scarlet have even blinked. “Every gauntlet, I choose one pledge to give an advantage to—someone I believe will win. To this day, I’ve never been wrong. They’re allowed to make one amendment to the otherwise short list of rules. Tonight, I’d like to grant Sebastian Octavius, of the dark elves, with that advantage.”
My heart lurches, slamming into my ribs as my eyes flare wide. Scarlet smiles at me from across the room, but I can barely breathe, let alone return it.
“Please step forward and state your wish,” the king says and Zephyr pushes me, urging my legs to move.
Reaching the front of the crowd, I bow my head. “Thank you, my king.”
“Your rule? Choose your words carefully. They will be followed exactly how they are spoken.”
“No weapons, neither physical nor magical, will be permitted during the fight for those wearing one of the king’s cuffs.”
Lifting my gaze, I feel his scrutinizing stare boring holes through my being.
“You realize you wear one of my cuffs?”
“I’m aware of my cuff, yes.”
“Then you understand the rule would apply to you as well?”
“I will follow my own rule as if it were yours, my king.”
“Very well. The mages will set the perimeter.” He looks at the crowd, dismissing me. “The gauntlet will commence at sundown. All pledges please meet on the bridge.”
As the king and his daughters file out of the room, the crowd starts to disperse. My heart is pounding as I follow the other pledges toward the bridge, leaving Zephyr behind. We wind through the halls and out the front doors until we can huddle on the bridge.
The guards in front of me gasp and when I follow their stares, I immediately see why. On the far end stands the troll who has entered. Zephyr was right. One of his eyes is hidden behind a patch, secured tight behind his head. A large club covered in spiked shards of metal rests against his shoulder. I’d hate to be the man to tell him he can’t use it.
The other pledges file onto the bridge until there’s hardly enough space to stand without bumping into one another. I don’t think any of us know what we’re waiting for, other than that we have to. Will our names be called?
Guards pushing some sort of cart with a large bell appear from behind the castle, parking it just at the base of the stairs leading to the front door. I glance at the sky, wondering how long we’ll be out here and whether I should drink the potion again. I’m not quite sure how my magic will respond if I do, but if they discover who I am before the gauntlet begins, I’m not sure how the king will react, either.
