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“Are you betraying the prince?” My companion’s eyes bore into mine, searching for my intent.
“I am not a traitor. But I will do what is right.”
My knuckles were turning white where I gripped the table. Saying it out loud lifted a weight off me like a thousand iron chains. My mate would not face the darkness alone.
“Are you sure about this?”
I did not blame him for sounding doubtful. I had not known him long, but I knew trust was not something either of us gave easily. “More than anything.”
I stared into the candle, its flame dancing hypnotically across my face. The choice I had made sank into my soul like a brand, becoming part of me, never to be erased.
“Very well.” Mal held out his hand, and I hesitated only for a moment before shaking it.
The next day, we entered Aelwyd proper. It was far less busy than I remembered. Mal went and knocked on a door, speaking to an old woman. When he returned, he looked sick to his stomach. “They are holding trials for Prys’s army.”
The trials had been a customary event decades ago, but King Rhys had abandoned the custom. He had always said, “I would rather have a man prove himself in my service than ten good men slaughtered to please the masses.”
I knew the odds were eight of ten men killed during the heyday of the trials. And now it looked as if the new king had resurrected the barbaric event.
“Prys will be here. He is bound to want to have us report to him as soon as possible.”
I dropped my head to my chest and sighed. Of course he would. I had no desire to see him, though.
“Let us not announce ourselves sooner than necessary. After all, we have no news for him.”
Mal agreed, and we set off to secure rooms for the night. It took us three attempts to find a vacancy, and only because I dropped my liege’s name.
The next day, we were stopped by a group of armed soldiers, keen on forcing us into the trials. They recognized my name and let us go. But something felt off, nevertheless. Even back in the day, no press gangs were employed to feed the trials.
That afternoon, we ate a decent enough stew when my ears pricked up. A group of old men, their voices amplified by copious amounts of mead, discussed the contestants.
“I am telling you. She is human, but with silver eyes. I do not know why they would allow her to compete, pretty little thing that she is. She will not last a minute in the arena.”
“Jon says she was not alone. One of her group is an incubus.”
“Oh? Well, maybe she has weapons that will aid her, other than her fighting skills.”
The group broke into raucous laugher, and I had to stop myself from taking my fists to their ugly faces.
Mal placed his hand on my arm and said, “You do not know if it is her.”
I took several deep breaths, allowing the anger to dissipate. Mal was right. There was no reason to think Beth would be part of the slaughter in the arena today.
And yet… The girl was strong, courageous, and above all, inexperienced. Her rashness was born from ignorance of our world and customs.
“We must visit the arena,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level.
If there was even a tiny chance that Beth, the future queen, was taking part in the trials, I had to be there, ready to take on anybody who would try to hurt her.
Chapter thirty-one
BETH
Thiswasit.Thetrials were underway, and I was freaking out.
At the mayor's announcement, the crowd erupted, shouting encouragement at their favorites. Dyf and Daeary had jostled into position and blocked me in by pushing me against the wall of the arena.
I knew they were protecting me, but when the battle began, all I could hear were grunts and screams. It was so eerie, not being able to see, I broke into a cold sweat. How many men and women were dying out there, while I was clawing at Dyf’s back, trying to see under his arm?
