Page 52 of Tournament

Bach drew me close and twirled us past another couple as he spoke quietly, for my ears alone. "I hope we lose. I wish nothing more than for Raven team to walk away from this night as free men."

His blue eyes burned into me with an intensity that made my breath come short. He wanted them to lose so they could pursue me. But I could only tell him one part of the truth in reply. "I hope you win," I said with a defiant lift of my chin.

What I could see of his expression shuttered, his big body going tense under my hand. He thought I was rejecting him, again.

Then the song was ending, and his fingers slipped from mine. Bach bowed curtly and walked away, leaving me feeling guilty and fed up with this entire charade. I made my way through the milling crowd to the refreshments, hoping to drown my guilt in sparkling wine.

On the way, I passed a table where citizens were making their final bets on which team would win, and on the identity of the Prize. My unmasking tonight would fill or empty some poor fool's coffers. If I was feeling lighter of spirit, I might place a bet against myself, just to be silly. But I couldn't find the playfulness within me to make the effort. Side-stepping the line for the betting table, I turned toward the refreshment table…and halted abruptly.

Fife was there, wearing a raven mask like Bach's. A black jacket and fitted leather breeches hugged his graceful, compact form. A set of fake black wings were attached to his back, and his glossy black curls flowed free about his shoulders. He held up two glasses of sparkling wine and a smile curved his beautiful bowstring lips. "A toast, mistress?"

I sighed and took the offered glass. "Thank you, sir." But I tilted my head at him in question, knowing the stag mask hid most of my expression. "And have you added anything to the drink tonight?"

He chuckled, the sound more beautiful than it should be, as always. "Unfortunately, no." He lifted his glass. "To contests. May I lose most soundly at this one."

I shook my head at him. "I won't drink to that."

He stepped closer, leaning in so we wouldn't be overheard by the surrounding partygoers. "Do you hate us so? Was the night of the wild moon and everything leading up to it truly nothing more than a passing amusement to you, Rina?"

I shivered at the timber of his alluring voice, at the way it caressed me inside and out. Fife in seduction mode was nearly impossible to resist. He was less a bard and more like a siren from human stories, his words drawing me in despite myself. "I don't hate you," I managed to say in reply. "Quite the contrary. Which is why I hope you win. It is what you all set out to do. I will not distract you from your goal."

I lifted my glass and clinked it against his. "To your triumph, master cleric." Then I downed my drink in one go and set it on a tray held by a passing servant.

The bubbly alcohol was strong, like most fae drink, and I felt its effects as I moved away from Fife and toward the center of the ballroom. Many people here were still trying to figure out the identity of the Prize, dancing and socializing with everyone in one last attempt to ferret out their secrets. Surely, I could lose myself in dancing and inane chatter with strangers until it was time to announce the winners…and everything else I was meant to reveal.

I managed one dance with a man in peasant garb and a simple rabbit mask. I was sure he was a noble playing at being poor. He was too smooth and his speech too cultured to be anything else. And he was definitely trying to figure out if I was the Prize. We had a good laugh together, and when the dance concluded, I asked him what he had learned.

"I think I've ruled out yet another prospect," he confided with a smirk. "You're the type who seems far too honest and open to carry out such deception, my lady." He bowed and kissed my hand in parting, unaware of how his words were a punch to my gut. Too honest. Little did he know, I had been living in a deception for what felt like ages now.

I normally would have stayed by Ama's side in a situation like this, let her deflect attention and lighten my mood with gossip and jokes at the expense of the haughtier attendees. But my best friend had been warned away from me tonight to avoid any potential danger. Yet again, the evening found her wrapped up in the arms of her future bride, spinning around the dance floor as if she was dancing on air, ignoring the guards who were always just a few steps away, unobtrusively lining the perimeter of the room.

I was trying to decide between more alcohol and another dance with a stranger when a deep, cool voice spoke from right behind me. "May I have the next dance?"

Adder. The entire purpose of this masquerade was wasted on Raven team. I turned to find the tall silver-haired fae regarding me from under a mask that was identical to his teammates. But the rest of his garb was far less ostentatious. His suit was made of dark gray fabric in a simple cut that tried for plain, but was too perfectly tailored to his body to look anything but expensive. I wanted to tell him no. Tell him to go away, and for all of Raven team to stop pulling at my heartstrings. But his dark eyes were mesmerizing, almost black beneath his mask, and his fingers were reaching out to rearrange a lock of my hair that had fallen forward and tangled with the antlers on my mask. And I suddenly wanted nothing more than to breathe the same air as this stoic fae.

"If you must," I muttered.

One corner of his chiseled lips drew up in a smirk and he held out an arm. "Such a glowing acceptance, mistress."

I took his arm and let him draw me into a sweeping dance, my eyes only for him, trusting him to keep me from plowing over any passing dancers around us. "If you are here to tell me all about your hopes for a loss like your friends before you, then allow me to save you the time. I won't hope for Raven team's misfortune."

His hand at my waist pulled me closer, fitting me to his tall, powerful form. "I'm not so soft-hearted as my teammates," he informed me with a lofty lift of his chin. "You have scorned the honor of our affections. Why would I lower myself to beg?"

I laughed in surprise. "Indeed," I said, matching his haughty posture. "That would certainly be beneath you, begging for the affections of a lowly gossip."

I don't know why I said it. I should be happy that he wasn't hounding me about being together. But it did sting a little, to be so easily dismissed. Ridiculous. But there it was.

"Lowly?" He scoffed. "Hardly the description I would use for you, my dear halfling. Tenacious, perhaps. Loyal. Kind. Determined. Beautiful, certainly. But never lowly."

I felt my cheeks heat at the praise from this cold, stand-offish male. "Maybe those berries you ate in the woods were spoiled. You seem to have lost your mind, sir."

He chuckled darkly and twirled me outward, then spun me back in against his chest. "Indeed. It does seem that way."

The song came to an end, and he leaned down to whisper in my gold-encased ear. "I do wish things had unfolded differently, Rina. But I honor your right to choose. Even if you are choosing wrong." Then he straightened, nodded his head, and walked away.

"For fuck's sake," I huffed to myself, earning a few strange looks from the over-dressed people around me. I couldn't do this. I wanted to scream.

"Mistress?"

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