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“I have a proposal.” My voice alone isn’t enough to demand silence, what with the appeal of a hunt for royal blood.
“You no longer have claim to her, Crow,” the lord of the blood court says. “She’s in the Hollow, it belongs to us all!”
“And so it does,” I agree. “Which affords us a unique opportunity.”
I’m taking my time, knowing every second they stay here, listening to me, is a moment Darina gets farther from the cave.
“Let us have a hunt,” I say.
The whispers and protests die, and I'm relieved that all eyes return to me.
"The rites are meant to weigh our courage, our wisdom, our luck." I speak with deliberate calm and languor. “And the one who brings her back before the end of the rites would have proven fast enough to keep up, cunning enough to trap her, strong enough to hold on to her with the rest of us prowling, and lucky enough to find her in the first place. I say this year's rites ought to be capturing ourselves a little queen, yes? He or she who presents Darina to the high keep's gates can be named her regent.”
The silence breaks, excited murmurs flying all around.
“You say bring her back, not just catch her, then. We’d be allowed to take her from someone else, yes?” Caenan's father asks.
If we can count on the lord of the court of air for anything, it's to seize an opportunity.
“No rules, other than bringing the girl back alive.”
“What if she dies?” someone else shoots.
I make myself shrug. “Accidents happen on a hunt. But we’d have to find another way to determine the regent, in that case. The game is to catch the girl, not her corpse.”
“You have an advantage!” Rebalga protests. “You had her all to yourself for one night. She’ll likely happily follow you back.”
My jaw tightens. That protest is fair, and expected. “I’ll remain behind until dusk, to even the odds.”
She ought to make it that long, won't she? It's already mid-afternoon, and we’ve given her five precious minutes so far.
I know I'd be far away by now in her shoes. But I have no idea about her abilities. And she has no clue about this world. She wouldn't even know where to go.
“What if no one catches her?” Grimgol asks.
I shrug. “Then, I suppose she would have won the rites, and her chance to rule. But do you truly believe a child, unfamiliar with this land, will escape all of us?”
The answer is no, which is exactly the problem.
All protest die, as they see the wisdom in the plan.
“It’s a fair game,” Valdred agreed, seeming unenthusiastic. It wouldn't do to appear to approve too much of anything that comes from me. “I second it.”
“Aye,” Grimgol says, the powrie almost salivating at the thought of a good hunt.
“I’m with you,” Rebalga says through clenched teeth.
Even the Crow bitch dips her head—it's as close to a yes as I'll ever get from someone I'm related to.
Another seelie lord acquiesces. Three lords from each shore means a majority.
We have our new rites; and one that changes the rules of the game.
Excitement spreads through the clearing like wildfire.
The rites have always been the kind of games that put warriors at an advantage; it starts with a battle, and only the strongest have any chance of making it to the second part. But a hunt puts everyone on equal footing. Even a lucky troll could win.Before today, only Valdred and I stood a chance, objectively. No one would beat us in either strength or valor; and luck's only one of the three trials. But a race? Anyone could potentially come ahead.
At least on the surface. In actual fact, if any weakling managed to get their hands on her, they'd likely die at the hand of another lord for their bounty. That's why I specifically said bring her back, rather than ending the game at catching her.
