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“Isn’t he wonderful?” Lady Mandrell asked her husband, initially, but then she gave me the same question.
“Oh… uh, yes,” I said, “He’s great.”
“Leonard, did you hear that?!” she grabbed her husband by the lapel of his coat and pulled him close. “The Princess said he’s great.The Fates are smiling on us!”
“Settle down, dear,” said Lord Mandrell. He glanced at me and offered a polite smile and a nod.
I returned it.
“They’re so weird,” Tallin whispered. “Why are nobles always so weird?”
“Shhhh,” I hissed, “They’ll hear you!”
“Right. You guys have great hearing, too.”
It didn’t look like Lord Cyr’s parents had heard us, though. They were too busy watching their son, now, as he pranced around the arena. He bowed at the crowd, performed aerial stunts that got them all cheering, and pretended to shoot some of them down with an imaginary bow and arrow. He would point at his targets after, give them a thumbs up, and a wink, and then move onto another target.
My mother snorted into her hand. “Sorry,” she blurted. “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I should take this really seriously.”
“You’re not allowed to break,” I whispered to her, “Because if you start laughing, I’m going to start laughing!”
“Sorry,” she hissed, and she quickly gathered her composure and settled back into her seat just as Lord Cyr took his position at the center of the arena.
He stared at the ice rock in front of him, studied it… spotted the blood on it. He, like the other contestants, had been armed with a hooked spear, and nothing else. While hevery seriouslyanalyzed the trial grounds, Lord Bailen went into his introduction of the trial. Every contestant got the one, and while the dramatic cues were the same, Lord Bailen did his best to make each feel unique, and exciting, for the benefit of the crowd.
He didn’t want to bore the Winter Court, after all.
Most times, when the Souldirge dragged itself out of its lair within the ice rock, the contestants would visibly react. Some would take a step back in panic, others would more tightly grab their weapon—one of them yelped so hard, it sounded like an animal had struck a trap. It had gotten everyone laughing, then.
Not Lord Cyr.
He stood his ground and carefully scanned the creature and the rock, his stare cold, and attentive. He watched the monster go clambering around the rock and waited until it had thrashed around enough to reveal the exact location of the gem nestled inside of its slick, bony, carapace crown. When he saw it, he nodded, and tossed his spear from one hand to the other like he knew exactly what to do.
Instead of going for the creature, though, he extended his spear arm, puffed out his chest, and exclaimed. "Foul beast!” he yelled.
I sank into my seat. “Oh no.”
“I am Cyr Mandrell, son of Leonard Mandrell, and noble son of Lysa. I smell the dark magic on you,monster.Your wretched aura taints this place, befouls the senses of my sweet, kind, gentle wife to be.”
“He’s not talking about you, is he?” Tallin asked.
“Be quiet!” I hissed.
“I will rid you from this place,” Cyr continued, “As Fate itself is my witness—” he paused, “—Fate, andall of Winter, I mean, I will have victory this day!”
His words summoned a wave of cheering and feet stomping from the gathered Winter Courtiers. They had loved that little monologue. They had eaten it up—they had eatenhimup. I had reached the fullest depths of my seat at this point, so I straightened up and sat upright.
Cringe.
That was the word that came to mind. Lord Cyr was as dramatic as he was in love with himself, and now that the trial was about to start, I kind of wanted to see him get actually eaten up. Just a little bit. Enough to come down a notch or two. Knowing my luck, though, he would probably win this whole thing and I would end up having to marry him.
Lord Cyr aimed the tip of his spear at the Souldirge. The bony creature had been clinging to the top of its rock, tugging at the chain keeping it from roaming too far. I watched the Fae move around the rock, forcing the creature to turn, and turn, and turn. I realized quickly what Cyr was doing.
He was trying to get it to tie itself up, and as much as I hated to admit it, it was working.
With every turn, the chain attaching the Souldirge to the ice rock tightened further, and further, slowly pinning its limbs until it was only a short, stubby thing that barely allowed the monster to move. When it realized the situation it was in, the monsterscreeched, generating a sound so horrible it made the entire court groan.
“I have you now, beast,” Cyr declared, and the crowd cheered for him.
