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He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. "I happen to think so. But song isn’t very useful if you're a wealthy lady looking for partners to help with running her estate."
I scoffed. "Are you joking? A bard with strong song magic is worth their weight in gold. Who else has such access to the ears and hearts of the nobles, and such sway over people’s emotions, even here in the royal court?"
He shrugged. "Again, that all depends on what the Prize is looking for in her bonded. I would never make a good royal bard. I don't have the patience for it. And I hate being tied down to one place for very long." He met my eyes. "But we've all speculated, of course. We've talked about how we might be of use. How we might fit into a highborn household. Depending on your employer's position and who she is, I could be of some assistance with diplomacy. Maybe traveling to allied cities or trade partners as an ambassador, that sort of thing." He waved a hand, dismissing that. "All conjecture, of course, since we'd first have to win the tournament. And since the Prize could be anyone, from princess to unknown noble."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "That's all fine and well, master bard. But the spell I used to hide myself up here is strong and specialized. Not something that a musical affinity would interfere with. What other secrets are you hiding?"
He huffed, but didn’t deny my accusation. "Song is only one of my abilities." He leaned forward, his fluid voice dropping to a whisper as mischief danced in his light green eyes. "I'm also a fairly capable cleric," he said conspiratorially. "I travel so much because I'm often called on to heal the people in surrounding villages, or to handle minor magical catastrophes. My bard skills come secondary to that—a hobby, I suppose."
Of course. Bach had said their team had a healer who could tend to his ribs after the sword competition. A cleric with a good grasp on healing spells could definitely fix up a couple of cracked ribs. "But why hide your magic abilities?" I demanded. "Why not announce your gifts? Surely that would earn you points in the eyes of the nobles. It's not even in the private file that only the Prize and the royals have access to."
He frowned and looked out at the stables again. "Sometimes," he drawled. "It's better to keep a trick or two up your sleeve, just to be safe."
I thought about that for a moment. Fife was small and delicate, relatively speaking, and that probably made him a target for all the big, meat-headed males who were here to compete in physical prowess. And his teammates had said they didn't want him going anywhere alone….
"Have you been getting threats?" I demanded, anger rising. It wouldn't surprise me, given what I had witnessed with young Jasper at the sword match. Even so, I expected better from the competitors in this tournament, men who believed they were worthy of a potential elevation in title and all the responsibilities that went with it.
Fife sighed. "Don't worry about me, mistress. I can absolutely take care of myself. Especially if no one knows I pack a bit more magical wallop than they'd expect." He smirked at that.
But I wasn't about to let this go. Something was niggling at the back of my brain, and it suddenly pushed to the forefront. "You were sick the day of the weapons competition. I tried to find you for an interview, but they told me you were in the healing tent, unconscious from food poisoning."
He scoffed. "Neat trick, that. Since I hadn't even eaten anything that day."
My eyes widened. "Wait, then if you were sick…. Are you saying that someone, what…cursed you or something?"
He shifted, moving toward the ladder when someone banged on the stable door. "Fife? Come on, we're all starving out here! You can commune with the animals some other time," Adder's sharp, impatient tones.
I reached out, gripping Fife's hand before he could get away, ignoring the little spark of magic that leaped from his aura to mine. "Tell me. Being stoic about it won't help anyone. My employer and the officials need to know if there's something going on with the contestants."
He sighed, and I tried to ignore the soft thrum of magic between us where we still touched. "There was a toast right before the knife throwing. I was too distracted to notice the aftertaste of belladonna until later, when I started feeling ill. I used my healing magic to keep myself on my feet long enough to compete. But two others were taken away unconscious before the competition started, and they never returned."
I hissed in displeasure. "Poison? I can't believe this! It's a game. Why would someone go to such lengths? Surely, they know they won't get away with that kind of nonsense at a royal event!"
He tugged at my hand, and I reluctantly let him go. But he stopped at the bottom of the ladder to glance up at me. "If you truly care about the contestants, tell your employer to place magic sniffers or sensor charms close to all food and drink locations for the competitors."
I nodded fiercely. "Consider it done. But if there is any more magical tampering…"
He nodded. "I will keep an eye out, mistress. Now that I know to be on the lookout, I've been intervening where I can, making sure no one gets hurt. Just one more reason to keep my skills a secret." Then he sketched a courtly bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you, mistress."
I smiled and sank back out of sight as he went to rejoin his impatient teammates.
But a few minutes later, when I climbed down and met up with my guards, the anger was back. Who in the unholy hells was interfering with my champions?
Chapter 16
The theme of teamwork continued in the next challenge, but this time in a more obvious way. A large obstacle course was set up on the palace exposition field, with raised seating around the perimeters for spectators. The large, open green space was perfectly positioned for displays, with the removable stands built on a slight rise at the edges of the forest that surrounded the area. The field was used for the occasional tournament or riding display, but most often hosted fairs or celebrations. Today it had an air of both—part exhibition, and part light-hearted gathering, as the people once again prepared to watch teams of champions compete for the hand of a mysterious unnamed noble.
The king and queen were right—the people needed this excuse for excitement and revelry almost as much as Larkwood needed a bigger governing House. The fae of Elfhaven thrived on sporting events and any excuse for celebration, and stayed far more peaceful if they were regularly entertained.
Today's obstacle course itself wasn't anything special, at first glance. It was just another set of physical challenges. There were areas to test agility, climbing, balance, strength—all the usual things. But every area of the course also contained a trap—a magically enhanced snare meant to slow down any team who got stuck.
Points were awarded to teams based on how fast they completed the course. However, more points were awarded to teams who crossed the finish line with all their members together. This was where the real challenge began—teamwork. If a champion got ensnared in a trap, his team had to decide the best course of action. They could wait for him to fight his way free, or they could carry on without him, hoping their speed was enough to make up for the minor point deduction they would get for not crossing the finish line together. They would have to calculate their odds as they progressed and decide between points for teamwork and points for speed. It was another test of character, and one that was weighed against the odds of winning through speed alone.
Each team was sent out to complete the course alone. Officials kept the other teams in a holding area in the woods, where they couldn't see or hear the course. Their order was determined by drawing straws. They had not seen the course beforehand and couldn't watch as the tournament progressed. They would have no idea what was coming or how their competitors had scored. That way, they couldn't base their decisions on how the others before them had performed.
The first team, Panther, was fast and agile. They were a group of friends—nobles who were part of the same sportsman club and had trained together with professional tutors in the weeks leading up to the tournament. When one of their members fell prey to the giant man-eating sunflower vines near the rope course, they hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave their teammate behind. But the male who was trapped shouted for them to go on without him, to take the penalty for losing him because they were so fast it wouldn't matter.
The rest of his team did indeed cross the finish line in record time, and the trapped champion eventually fought his way free of the vines to join them some long minutes later, not too much worse for wear. The traps were designed to slow the competitors down, not injure them. Panther team got a deduction for leaving him behind, but their speed would probably make up for it.
