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But it meant change. And that was always hard.
"I'm used to doing things on my own," I ground out. "I don't need a husband to tell me what to do."
Amaryllis wrinkled her nose at me in that adorable way of hers when I used the human word for a bonded mate. "What? Of course not," she said in outrage. "What an outdated notion. But Kat, you will be the talk of Elfhaven. Everyone at court will want you for an ally. Or a rival. Larkwood will grow. Mistvale will stop being a quaint, thriving little town and become a city to rival all the others. There will be so much more to manage. And beyond that, there will be new threats. You'll be in danger of attack, both at your borders and closer to home, both physical attack and social-political attack. You'll need to have your personal guard close at hand at all times." She grinned at me in a way that said she knew exactly how much I was going to hate her next words. "You'll almost be like a princess."
I shook my head. "Are you sure your parents aren't just hoping to install someone a little more agreeable in my position? Maybe they think if they marry me off, I'll be too busy nesting or attending to a clutch of eggs to be a thorn in their side any longer."
She sighed. "I won't lie, Kat, they would like you to make alliances with the other nearby territories and with nobles who we can trust to behave. And you know that having a line of inheritance will become more important than ever. So you can have a hand in shaping the next potential steward of Larkwood." She gave me a direct look then. "I know how much you love this place, Kat. You don't want a powerful stranger selected to oversee it when you are gone, even if they are chosen by the king and queen. It wouldn't hurt to know you have a mate—or mates—who can give you strong, well-bred children who might stand a chance of taking over in the future."
I put my face in my hands and just breathed, letting out a small groan of frustration. She was right. Heirs weren’t guaranteed to inherit positions purely based on their ancestry. But if a steward selected an heir themselves, rather than waiting to have someone selected for them, they could train their heir to guide the territory in the way the current steward envisioned for the future. The royals could always choose to assign the position to someone else when the current steward passed, but they were likely to choose the heir, since they had already been trained and groomed for the position. It made the whole selection process go more smoothly.
I could always adopt an heir, the way Rose did with me. But I did want children of my own someday. And Ama was right. I might think I would live forever, but accidents happened, as I was painfully aware after losing Lady Rose so unexpectedly. If something happened to me without an heir, then my legacy would end. My vision would die with me and someone else would take over. And while that wouldn’t necessarily be bad for Larkwood, since the royals would choose someone capable, it hurt to think of things being passed off so coldly. It felt like it would destroy everything I had worked so hard to accomplish here these last few years, and everything my parents had built before me.
"Fine," I ground out, lifting my head to glare at Ama. "Your parents want me to hurry and get bonded and hatch a clutch of babies. Message received."
She grimaced and looked down at her elegant hands. "It's more than that, actually." Pretty golden-brown eyes met mine, and she gave me an apologetic look before she stood and drew an envelope from the pocket of her skirt. "They've called for a tournament."
I gaped at her for a long moment before I finally took the envelope in my numb fingers. The thick, creamy paper was embossed with the crest of the royal house, and it tingled under my fingers, spelled against tampering. "A tournament," I said flatly.
She nodded. "It's set to start in a few weeks. But they want you to come to the castle now so we can discuss terms and the contests you'd like to have included. They want you to have as much say in the outcome as possible. It's…their way of compromising."
"A tournament." I repeated stupidly, staring down at the thick, expensive paper I held. My hands shook as I opened the thing and pulled out an embossed card announcing the Game of Hearts had been declared in my honor. The announcement was rather generic. My name wasn't mentioned, which wasn't unusual for royal tournaments. "A…"
"Tournament, yes," the princess said in exasperation. "Kat, stop being melodramatic. You know this is how these things are done. It’s an honor. You'll have your pick of the strongest citizens Elfhaven has to offer."
I closed my mouth. She was right. This was how it was done. Sometimes, when a highborn noble or a wealthy fae was having trouble choosing a mate—or when they didn't have any preference—they would hold a tournament. A competition of prowess and strength to choose the most virile and capable partner. And sometimes, when matters of tricky alliances or political issues were involved, the king and queen would call for a tournament on behalf of one of their courtiers. Those were usually anonymous. The identity of the noble involved was kept secret until the games were complete and the winners were chosen. That way, the contestants wouldn't know what territory or estate was involved and politics would be kept out of it—at least theoretically—until after the fact.
It was supposed to be an unbiased way to form alliances and manage territories. It made things fair. It ensured that the best people were chosen for the job, regardless of their social rank, their political leanings, or interpersonal squabbles. It also brought in fresh blood to the nobility, and it undid old biases when new people were forced to work together this way.
I knew all of this. But I never expected it to happen to me.
Larkwood was important, but largely forgotten. No one cared who I bonded to or had children with. Until now.
"They want me to choose more than one," I said, looking at the announcement again. It said mates. Plural. Again, not unheard of, but usually more common among royalty or larger territories.
"If the idea is offensive to you, no one will force you, Kat. But yes. We all know the strongest clutches are sired by more than one father. And the more support you have moving forward, the better." She reached out and squeezed my hand. "We all want the best for you, Kat. We hope you'll find a group of mates who can be suitable partners for you. Who can help you." She shook her head. "Because, Kat, sweetheart, my parents love you and they honor Lady Rose's choice of heir, but they're about to put you in an unpleasant circumstance. Things in Larkwood are going to be chaotic, and changing, and hard. And they don't want you to have to do this all alone." She smiled faintly. "They're treating this as though you're one of their own children. Everyone will assume they are competing for the hand of someone close to the throne."
I met her eyes, feeling overwhelmed and lost. Ama herself was still unattached, as were a couple of her cousins and one younger brother. The public may well assume the tournament was for one of them. "And then what?" I demanded flatly. "What happens when they win, only to realize they've been tricked into mating with a lowborn nobody?"
Her delicate, courtly features melted into a sharp, evil smile as magic flowed outward, flames dancing on the fingertips of her free hand. "Well, then I suppose we find out what they're truly made of, hmm? I’d like to see anyone call you a nobody. They wouldn’t live to see another day."
I stared at the dancing flames that covered my best friend's fingertips. "We're going to lie to the entire kingdom?"
She winked. "No one is lying. It's not our fault if some of them jump to silly conclusions all on their own." Standing, she snuffed her fire magic and took me by the shoulders. "Kat, you deserve the best mates this kingdom has to offer. And we're going to make sure that's exactly what you get. We just need to do it before word of this expansion reaches the public. Otherwise, the wolves will descend, and you'll never know a moment's peace."
Chapter 3
I wrapped my hands around my glass of gnomish beer. The thick glass was frosty, chilled by magic from the fae who was tending the bar. The cold helped fortify me for what I knew was coming. I rolled my eyes as a tall, stout man slid into the seat across from me uninvited.
He wasn't bad looking. His pointed ears and general build said highborn fae, but something about his features hinted that he might have a little mixed blood. Sandy blond hair. A rugged jaw and bright hazel eyes. A fit body. He'd probably do well enough for my purposes tonight. But he seemed just a little too determined. A little too cocky.
Either that, or I was just being picky and sullen. Entirely possible, given my current circumstances.
"Evening," the man said in a jovial tone of voice as he settled in and waved the server his way. "Looking for some company tonight, girlie?" He winked at me like I should just be so flattered.
Hell, maybe I should be flattered. I didn't exactly look like a highborn elf myself. My mixed heritage was even more obvious than his own. And I was dressed down. I probably looked like exactly the kind of working-class woman who would come to the tavern to find some pleasurable way to unwind after a long day. But I still wanted to smack the stupid look off his jovial face.
Yes, I supposed I really was being sullen after all.
