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"Champion!" I called with a sweet smile. "Spare me a moment for an interview?"
His hazel eyes met mine, and he grinned wider, his gaze sweeping over my body in an assessing manner, lingering on my fitted pants and the subtly embellished corset I was currently wearing. As if he was already imagining taking them off. "An interview, is it, lass?"
He moved closer, abandoning his audience to loom over me with a flirty leer. I looked up at him, once again wondering how one would keep from being crushed in the throes of passion. Not that I felt particularly inclined toward passion when I looked at him. It was more of a curious passing thought. I was about as attracted to him as the wooden chair he had just vacated. In fact…the chair was probably a tad bit alluring, if we were being honest. But there was the chance that this man’s team might win this tournament. And if they did, intimacy would certainly be possible, though not mandatory, by any means. Could I do it? Could I learn to love—or even just tolerate—a man like him in my home and in my bed?
"Yes. Just a few questions," I said evenly, still smiling politely despite his leering. But not too wide. I wouldn't want to give him any reason to think I was soliciting anything else from the massive warrior. Unlike the barmaid, who was currently giving me an evil look for stealing him away.
The man glanced at my guards, then casually flipped a lock of my brown hair off my shoulder with one thick finger. "And what gossip paper wants an interview this time, darling?"
I blinked up at him innocently. "No publication, I'm afraid. I'm here to interview the winners for my employer. Since the queen can’t really spare the time to wander about the encampment, she sent me instead."
His brows went up, and I watched as realization dawned on his rugged features. "Ah," he said with a wink. "I see. Come on then, sweetheart." He put an arm around my shoulder in an overly familiar fashion and led me to a table in the corner. Away from the crowd, but still visible, where everyone would see and ask him who he had been talking to later. So he could tell everyone that the queen had taken a personal interest in him.
I flagged down one of the busy barmaids and ordered a drink of my own, then set about getting to know the winner of the sword and hand-to-hand competition. Talon of Lion team was certainly a character. After his initial overtures, he toned down the hints and flirting. A little. But I couldn't say that he grew on me with time.
A wealthy builder by trade, he was one of the competitors who didn't strictly need the financial benefits of winning this competition, but he would benefit from the elevation in social standing. He was the son of a merchant, and since he ran his own thriving construction business a few towns over, one could assume he had some head for business. Talon had assembled his team himself, and it consisted of the strongest men he knew—other equally massive specimens who were gathered from the trades or who were men of leisure but trained in martial pursuits, "befitting a real man."
He was proud of his size and strength and wanted me to tell the queen that if his team won, the Prize would never want for protection, or for virile male company.
It was a challenge not to roll my eyes or make scathing comments. I needed to at least try to stay unbiased. Even though the winners of this tournament would become my bonded mates, the bigger purpose was to secure suitable co-stewards for Larkwood. I didn't actually have to like any of them, as long as they proved themselves qualified. And while Talon might be a boastful, boorish ass…he was a successful business owner who was also strong enough to do physical labor or fight for our people if the need arose.
I finished my drink, wished him luck with as much sincerity as I could muster, then left in search of the other champions of the day.
Chapter 10
When I found him, the archery champion was just as warm and smiling as he had been in the arena. But there was something boastful about him, just like Talon, and it got on my nerves after my recent interaction with the swordsman. The archer was also part of Lion team, and it seemed they all shared the same toxic, offensive male bluster. It seemed more and more likely that I'd end up bonded to a thousand pounds of muscle and over-inflated ego, if things continued on as they were. But then again, this was only the first of many challenges. And there was more to the scoring than a single win in the arena.
I moved on to the knife throwing champion next. He wasn't on Lion team, thank the source. But unfortunately, I couldn't speak with him because he was in the healing tent being treated for a severe case of food poisoning. The camp-like setup of the grounds, with its large, open buffet-style meals apparently had its drawbacks. I made a mental note to mention it to the officials and see if they could look into some better food preservation spells.
"Well," I said to my patient and ever-present guards, putting my hands on my hips and looking around the milling throngs of people in the competitors' area. "There's just one more person I'd like to speak to, if we can."
"Your wish is our command," the woman in charge said with a smile. "We were instructed to treat you as a VIP. Queen's orders."
I nodded. "I appreciate it. As much as I hate the need for a babysitting detail, this can't be much fun for you, either."
"More amusing than you know," one of the other guards said, the older man's brown eyes twinkling with merriment over my discomfort.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad someone is amused. Come on, then. Let's go spy for her majesty, shall we?" Best to keep up the ruse, even with my guards, just in case anyone was listening. The queen's spell might be powerful, but I wasn't sure if it would keep me from directly revealing my identity myself, or what the effects might be if I tried. I'd rather not test it.
It took longer than I expected to find the gangly teenaged squire from the sword competition. He was sitting on an overturned bucket outside a moderately sized tent, looking sullen. His shoulders slumped, and he was staring morosely at the ground, his too-big hands dangling between his knees.
"Excuse me, sir," I said as I approached.
He looked up slowly, then seemed to realize I was talking to him, and leapt to his feet. "Good evening, mistress," he said with a small bow. "How can I help you?"
I stifled the grin that wanted to slip free. His pointed ears and the potential for fine features under his youth said he was a full-blooded fae. But he was red-headed and freckled, and stuck in that terribly awkward phase half-way between boy and man. I wanted to ruffle his messy hair and pinch his cheeks. He looked like nothing so much as an adorable, animated scarecrow.
"I'm Rina," I replied instead. "I work for the queen. I wondered if I might speak with you for a bit?"
His hazel eyes went round, and he yanked at the hem of his cotton work shirt before bowing again. "Oh! Oh, yes, of course, miss. But…why me?"
I smiled and linked my arm through his, guiding him to sit with me on a nearby straw bale while my guards drifted off a few paces to let us chat in private. "Well," I said, patting the boy's awkwardly large hand. "I couldn't help but notice your little accident earlier. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I'd like to know what happened."
He blushed and looked down, picking at the hem of his dusty shirt with his bony fingers. "I'm clumsy," he mumbled. "Lord Bach's always saying I need to be more careful. But I swear I was minding myself." He looked at me through long red lashes. "It all happened so fast. I was intent on the fight. Rooting for Lord Bach and watching his opponent for weak spots, like he told me. Part of my training, you see? If I want to be part of the guard back home, I need to learn. And Lord Bach said he'd teach me."
He shrugged that off. "Anyway, I was concentrating on that, and the next thing I know, something hits me in the back. I guess the crowd got rowdy. I didn't have much time to sort it all out before yon boulder-for-brains was trying to skewer me!"
He slumped then, all the wind going out of him. "And because of me, Lord Bach got hurt. Because of me, he lost to that big lout." He turned those mournful hazel eyes on me and gripped my hand. "Please, my miss. If you could explain to the queen. Tell her it was all my fault. Maybe they can have a rematch or something? It just isn't fair that I lost the tournament for Bach and his entire team just because I'm clumsy!"
