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The commander’s eyes narrowed as he sized me up. “Refusing to enter the trials is an act of treason and will be punishable by death. Do you want to die, woman?”
“No, of course not. We would be honored to compete,” Daeary responded quickly. Dyf grabbed my arm, squeezing hard to warm me not to speak again. Followed by our own honor guard, we walked across the square, joining the end of the line snaking into the arena. The guards stepped away once they were satisfied we were staying put. The commander spoke to an armed male, and they both glared in my direction.
Great. Because I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut, they now kept an extra eye on us. But seriously, my uncle had wasted no time to put himself on the throne after killing his own dad. What a bastard.
I turned to Daeary and whispered angrily, “Why didn’t you do something? Don’t you have like special incubus powers or something?”
“Or something,” he repeated. “I can distract my enemies momentarily, even influence them if they are susceptible. But I cannot overpower scores of armed men. Also, giving away my nature might deprive us of an advantage later on.”
Dyf said nothing, keeping his head down while scanning left and right for an opportunity to run. But the guards kept a tight line. We’d be cut down before crossing the square. The closer we got to the tunnel entrance, the thicker the smell of sweat, excitement, and fear in the air.
“Step right up, brave souls!”
A stout man had climbed the platform and was shouting, “Prove your worth in the Royal trials, and you could join the palace guards or even win a coveted spot in the Eryr Eyra! Remember, the new king will be watching.”
“Royal trials?” I whispered, incredulous. “Is that how Prys recruits his soldiers? He forces them into service?”
“Not usually. But I saw more than one of his men among the rebels. He is bleeding support. Hence the impressment.” Daeary threw a dark look at the announcer.
My mind was racing as I tried to make sense of this new information. There had to be a way to exploit this. And then an idea sparked in my tired brain. It would be dangerous. No, it’d be suicidal. But if I managed to carry it off, it might help us all to escape this hopeless situation. I needed more information, though.
A middle-aged man stood in front of me, leaning heavily on a cane. I touched his arm to draw his attention. “What’s happening here?”
He peered at me, his eyes tired and resigned. When he answered, his voice was low and raspy. “They commandeered every able-bodied man within twenty miles for the trials. King Prys will oversee them himself today. It’s a great honor for Aelwyd.”
He raised his voice with a terrified glance at a guard stepped who’d stepped closer to overhear us.
This was my way out. I was too small to be of any use to the king’s guards. But I needed to stay in line if my plan was to work. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders. “How do these trials work?”
The man’s gaze tightened as suspicion twisted his features. But he still answered my question.
“Applicants fight against a monster of the mayor’s choosing. There are also trials of skills and riddles. After winning three rounds, they meet the mayor and possibly the king and are honored above all others. Then they get to give a speech and their family never sees them again.”
His mouth snapped shut and his face scrunched up with worry, as if he’d said too much. Without another word, he shuffled off as quickly as his legs would carry him. I looked after him, my thoughts whirling around the information he’d given us.
Slowly, I said, “If we win, I’ll get a chance to address the crowd and tell them who really killed King Rhys.”
Daeary’s dark eyes burned into mine, his jaw tight, as he struggled with his composure. “Why would they believe you?”
I took a deep breath. This was so dangerous, even saying it out loud made my knees shake. But I felt like I had no other choice.
Glancing around to make sure the guard had moved on, I whispered, “Because I’m the Lost Princess’s daughter. And I’m counting on you two to get me out of here once I said my piece. It’s the only thing I can think of to give my side of the story. Daeary, you said a lot of the Fae are sick of Prys’s rule, right?”
I looked at the incubus, who nodded. “Yes. The alliance has agents everywhere. There are sure to be some in the crowd.”
Pulling my shoulders back, I stepped forward, moving ever closer to the entrance. Daeary joined me, and after an epic eye roll, so did Dyf. I would have laughed at him if the situation hadn’t been so grim. With the guards everywhere, where did he think he was going except inside?
Despite my bravado, there was a good chance we wouldn’t walk away from this. But I was so sick and tired of running through the Fae wilderness, I’d try anything, no matter how desperate. If Prys got hold of me outside of the arena, I was dead anyway.
It didn’t take us long to reach the front of the line. A man sat inside a booth, watching us approach. His mouth was pulled into a permanent sneer. I stepped forward.
“What do you want?” he asked, his expression as sullen as his tone.
I cleared my throat and said as assertively as I could, “I’m here to compete in the trials.”
His eyes widened in surprise. Looking me over again, he said, “You? Why would a slip of a girl like you want to join the royal guard? Let those males behind you fight. Go home.”
I clenched my jaw, irritation flaring. But I kept my temper under control. “Are you going to let me join or not?”
