by Everly Frost
So a compromise was reached that was supported by all the clan and house leaders. Based on the original Storm Princess protocols, a set of trials will be held today, on my twentieth birthday. Any male can compete, not just the chosen few. Failing a trial does not result in elimination or shame. The purpose is to give me a chance to choose my husband based on his strengths and the personality I deem to be compatible with my own.
Ideally, I would already know where my heart belongs and the trials would be a show, a jovial event for the males (and females if they are so inclined) to show off their skills and have some fun.
But I don’t know my heart.
Because of that, there’s an edge of tension in the air right now. Elves and gargoyles are not immune to the allure of power. There are some who see a chance for their clan or house to gain elevation.
Mom continues. “First rule: Any male who wishes to marry my daughter must present himself on this day. She will not choose a husband except from those who offer themselves.
“Second rule: No powers! You must come to these trials willing to put your body and your heart on the line without any magical advantage.” Mom glances in the direction of the family section, where Liam stands a head taller than other elves around him. He grins back at her, a disarming smile that she can’t help returning.
“Third rule: You may bow out of any of the two trials at any time and it won’t affect the outcome.” She eyes the crowd, speaking pointedly. “Sometimes, in fact, it is smart to avoid danger.”
She takes a breath. “Now that the rules have been announced—”
“Wait!” I step up, catching her startled gaze. “There will be a third trial.”
She blinks at me, but I charge on before she can ask me questions. “Both trials have been set by me. I have the right to add another. I will not consider any male unless, at the end of the day, he is willing to challenge me in a fight.”
Mom’s eyebrows rise. She lowers her voice. “Alessia, what are you doing?”
I wish I’d had time to talk with Mom about this, but I wasn’t sure I’d need a third trial. Now that Liam has decided to take part after all, I’m left with desperate measures. I need to implement my backup plan and I’ve come prepared to see it through. I’m confident I can beat him in a fight—I used to whip his ass all the time when we were kids. I don’t want to cause him shame, but I need a solid backup to make it clear that I won’t choose him. Also, the idea of knocking some sense into him—literally—is appealing to me right now.
But to my mother, I say, “I can’t marry someone who isn’t willing to question me, Mom. You and Dad challenge each other all the time and we have far better outcomes for our people because you aren’t afraid to voice your thoughts. I want someone who isn’t afraid to face me. Despite my power and position.”
“Very well.” She turns to the clan and house leaders, always preserving diplomacy by seeking their views. “Does anyone have any contrary thoughts about this additional trial?”
They unanimously shake their heads. Many of the elven leaders smile. I’m guessing they’re the ones who remember Mom’s own challenge at the start of her marriage trials when she declared she would fight for herself.
She turns to the crowd. “All those who intend to offer their hand, please step forward now.”
She steps back now, her role in conducting the proceedings at an end. It’s my turn to run things.
The crowd buzzes. Liam steps into the area in front of the dais and I’m sure I hear someone groan. Nobody knows what the trials will be except me and Elise, whose spellcasting I needed to devise them. But the onlookers will expect one of the trials to be physical combat and nobody wants to face Liam—even without his magical powers.
I acknowledge him with a formal nod. “Welcome, Sunflight Liam Glory.”
Nobody else moves.
Damn. No. I won’t marry the male my best friend’s heart belongs to.
A commotion at the side makes Mom start. I glance at her, reassured by the smile growing on her face. A regal female strides up to the family area next to the dais, speaking into the silence. “Sorry we’re late. We had a small problem with this one.” She gestures to the baby on her hip before she smiles at Mom.
“Elyria!” Tears sparkle in Mom’s eyes. She doesn’t hesitate to race across the stage, head down the steps, and throw her arms around the other female.
“Marbella!”
They hug each other tightly before Mom relieves Elyria of the bundle on her hip, squealing with delight as two toddlers appear beside her. “Babies!”
Their father also steps forward, leaning across to hug Mom and kiss her cheek. He quickly races after his toddler son before the little boy wobbles into the contender’s area, causing the entire arena to burst into laughter.
I bite my lip, unable to hide my happiness. Jasper Grace is one of Dad’s oldest friends. He and Elyria lost twins—heartbreakingly stillborn—before their eldest son came along the same year I did. They didn’t stop there. At last count they have seven children. They live a simple, farming life away from the palace. I don’t know the whole story, but Elyria never visits the original palace in Erador. All Mom told me was, “Too many memories.”
I haven’t seen them for years. I certainly don’t recognize the fully-grown male who steps out from behind Jasper and makes his way quietly to the area at the front of the dais. He stands as tall as Liam, his hair straight brown like his father’s, but his chest is broader and his biceps have… clearly… been honed from hard work on the farm. He’s the kind of male my father would normally insist join the armed forces, but Dad would never force Jasper’s hand.
Mom returns to the stage with a toddler on her hip and inclines her head to me. “Sorry, baby girl. Please continue.”
I consider the new male with a smile. “Welcome, Zachary Grace.”
At that, another male moves out from the side near the family section, the onlookers clearing a way for him. He is savagely gorgeous, his wings dark brown, his hair the same glossy brown cut short at the sides and tightly braided across the top and back. He wears a shadow panther skin slung across one shoulder and bears scars across his naked chest. He’s only two years older than me, but Grievous Edric has lived the life of his clan.
I search for his parents in the crowd, finding his father and sister standing in the spot he left behind, and his proud mama over with the other clan leaders. They’re only separated because of her duties.
Grievous Indira gives Mom a broad smile, while Erit beams on the other side of the arena. Mom looks like she’ll swoop between them and hug them both, too.
“Welcome, Grievous Edric,” I say, accepting his smile. He may look fierce, but he has a warm heart.
So far there are three contenders, only two of whom I would consider, but within moments, another three males step out from the crowd—two elves and one gargoyle, all of them respectful, although I don’t know them well.
I wait another moment, my heart suddenly empty and my lungs yearning for the scent of woodfire. “Are there any final contenders?”
The sunlight glints at the edge of my vision and a spot flies toward me from the distance. My heart hammers as a gargoyle lands within the crowd, too far away to identify, but the darkness of his wings… it has to be Dread. Please let it be him. But how did he know?
The crowd parts for him, whispers growing as he takes careful steps through the throng, keeping his wings close to his sides so he doesn’t bump anyone.
Adalie runs up to the family section on my right at the exact moment that Dread enters the contender’s area. She gives me a nod. Did she bring him? How did she know about him?
I stare at her—I have so many questions—but she doesn’t approach the dais, and I can’t demand answers from her. She cranes her head, looking around the family area. She must be looking for Liam…
Her face falls when she sees him in front of the dais, but she quickly pastes a smile on her face when Elyria hugs her. She won’t fool Elyr
ia for a second and I’m glad that the older female is there for Adalie right now.
You fool, Liam! He just broke Adalie’s heart.
Liam, on the other hand, is oblivious to her reaction because he’s watching Dread.
In fact, everyone except Adalie and Elyria is eyeing him. Now that he stands beside the others, it’s difficult to miss how massive and brutal he looks. A shiver runs down my spine, but it isn’t fear. I wish I had another name to welcome him by.
“Welcome, Dread.”
His name causes a stir. Mom shifts at the corner of my vision, but she doesn’t say anything.
I swallow hard. “We will proceed. The first trial is a trial of strength. Contenders, please separate into a single line. Elise, if you will?”
She steps up, lifting her hands. High partitions appear between the contenders, blocking them off from each other. They each stand at the head of a lane that ends fifty paces away—the length of the cleared area.
Within each lane, a large boulder, as big as the one Adalie tried to carry this morning, appears on the ground at their feet. At the other end of each lane, a gilded statue appears, even larger than the boulder and with a thick base of gold. A warrior stands on the base, both hands outstretched.
I call to the contenders. “You each stand in a lane containing a boulder and a statue. They are both real. Their weight is real. Your goal is to make the boulder touch the statue. There is no time limit to this trial. It is not about how quickly you finish. However, you may not use flight to accomplish your task. You may start now.”
Five of the males, including Grievous Edric and Liam, immediately attempt to lift their boulders, their muscles bulging. They walk them several paces before putting them down so they can rest.
Zachary Grace leans on his, testing its balance. After a few nudges, he tips it over and begins to roll it, carefully and slowly pushing it along the lane, guiding it between the walls.
Mom glides up to me, a curious look in her eyes. “What is this test, Alessia?”
I create a sound barrier around us so nobody can overhear us. “I want to see how they solve it.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Then it’s not only a test of strength.”
I neither confirm nor deny. “Not everything is what someone tells you it is. I want to see if they consider every possibility.”
Liam continues to carry his boulder, making it much farther much faster than the other males, but Grievous Edric puts his down, glaring at it. With a growl, he slams his wing daggers into it, cracking it apart into much more manageable chunks. He then proceeds to carry each smaller piece to the end of the lane, piling them in front of the statue so its hands touch them.
Liam’s show of physical strength, carrying the boulder whole, makes the crowd go, “Ooh,” especially when he reaches the halfway mark.
But I turn my attention to Dread, who hasn’t moved, his forehead creased in a thoughtful expression as he taps the top of the boulder, studying the distance between it and the statute.
He finally bends to the boulder and picks it up without effort, hoisting it all the way onto his shoulder. Mom jolts with surprise and the crowd stirs. He bounces his knees a little, as if he’s testing the boulder’s weight before he puts it down again.
I lean forward, a thrum of anticipation striking through me when he leaves the boulder behind, the first male to do so, and walks down the lane to the statute. He studies it in the same way that he studied the boulder, placing his hands on it, leaning around it to consider all its angles. It has the appearance of solid gold, certainly heavier than the boulder.
A smile breaks across my face when he bends his knees and wraps his arms around it, tips it across his shoulder, and picks it up as if it weighs nothing. Strolling back to the boulder, he positions the statue in front of it so that the warrior’s hands touch the boulder perfectly.
He leaves his lane, returns to the space in front of the dais and takes a knee, his head down.
Zachary Grace finishes next, followed by Edric, then Liam and the others. They each return to the foot of the dais and take a knee.
Mom’s eyes are alight with curiosity now. “Was the statue hollow?”
“Yes,” I say. “And made of the lightest wood in our land. Dread is the only one who didn’t judge it by its appearance.”
I release the sound barrier and give nothing away to the contenders as I approach the front of the stage again. “You all succeeded in your task.” I pause before I announce the second trial. I decided on it months ago, but now it seems dangerous—even if the crowd and the contenders expect it.
I swallow hard. “The second trial will be hand-to-hand combat. There are seven of you, so one of you will fight my brother, Raiden.”
That causes a stir. Raiden steps forward. He and I spoke about this possibility many times if there were an uneven number of contenders and he assured me it wouldn’t be a problem.
I continue. “Fights will be drawn by chance. But I warn you: How you fight is more important than whether you win.”
Most of the males give me wary looks at that statement, but both Zachary and Dread wear thoughtful expressions.
Elise produces an opaque golden sphere, which she carries from one male to the next. Liam, Edric, and Zachary pair off with one of the other males. My heart leaps into my throat when Dread is left to fight Raiden. They stand to the side as each fight occurs in turn.
Liam wins his fight by subduing his opponent in a neck hold and forcing him to yield. Edric wins by sheer brute strength, his opponent walking away with a very bloody nose. To my surprise, Zachary wins his fight with a single punch, knocking his opponent clean out. He immediately leans down and helps him stand, calling for a healer, waiting beside him until the healer gives the other male the all clear.
Dread waits quietly at the side, observing each of the fights. I watch him watching them, studying the way his expression changes with every move the fighters make as if he’s playing the fights in his own mind. A crease appears in his forehead that tells me he thinks they’ve made the wrong move—right before they’re defeated. His forehead clears when Zachary knocks out his opponent, and a look of wary respect crosses Dread’s face when Zachary calls for a healer. Finally, his focus falls on Raiden, watching the way my brother descends from the dais, studying his movements, the powerful steps and controlled head movements.
Raiden is as well-feared as my father. He will soon take over commanding the military forces.
Raiden takes to the field, rolling his shoulders. I sense the crowd hold its breath as Dread steps up to him and the two males face off. My stomach twists. I grab Mom’s arm, pulling her up into the air and away from listening ears, surrounding us in a wind tunnel. “I think I should stop this.”
“You can’t, baby. The others have already fought.” She rubs my arms in a comforting gesture. “You’ve seen your brother in combat. Nobody beats him.”
“Mom, I watched Dread annihilate a sol bear. You don’t understand. He crushed it.”
Mom shakes her head in thought. “It’s your call, Alessia, but if you don’t let this play out, it will look like you want Liam to come out on top.”
“But I don’t!”
Her eyes widen farther. “What?”
“I don’t want to marry Liam.”
She’s taken aback. “Baby girl… we thought…”
“That I love him?” I keep my voice low, trying not to let my emotions show. We can’t be heard, but we can be seen. On the field, Dread and my brother have stepped back from each other to wait for us.
“I love Liam like a brother,” I say. “But he’s in love with Adalie. The foolish male just won’t listen to his heart.”
“Adalie,” Mom breathes. “So that’s why she was so upset before.” She appears perplexed, her blue eyes radiating concern. “So… who will you choose?”
I gesture to the field. “They all have worth. Zachary is quiet and intelligent. He thinks before he acts and finds unique solutions to proble
ms. Edric is passionate, sometimes reckless, but he will always follow his heart and defend me to the death. They are both incredibly strong. But Mom…”
I catch Dread’s eye, my heart suddenly burning inside my chest.
Mom’s mouth drops open. “You only met him this morning—”
“Love has to start somewhere,” I say.
She bites her lip. “I don’t know, Alessia. Something’s bothering me. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
I hug her. “I trust you, Mom. When you know what it is, let me know. Until then, I guess I have no choice but to let this fight go ahead.”
We return to the stage, but Dread suddenly spins from Raiden and approaches the dais, raising his eyes to mine. “Supreme Incorruptible Alessia Rath, will you please ask your spellcaster to bind my wings for this fight?”
“Wh-Why?” I ask, surprised.
“So I don’t inadvertently use them to my advantage against your brother.” He lowers his voice. “You’re worried about his safety. You have reason to be. But I promise, I will not use unnecessary force.”
Mom murmurs beside me with a glimmer of respect in her eyes. “It’s an honorable request.”
I agree. “Elise, please?”
She whispers beneath her breath and Dread’s wings instantly pull tightly to his sides. Without fuss, he returns to face Raiden.
Raiden is well-versed in all sorts of warfare, including psychological. With a calm expression, he says, “You shouldn’t have given up your advantage.”
Dread replies with a bow to Raiden. “We’ll see.”
Raiden bounces on his heels. Give him a sword and he’s an expert, but ask him to use his fists and he’s in his element. He’s done talking. He steps in and takes a quick swipe at Dread’s face. I’m shocked when Dread lets it land, not even putting his fists up, the blow cracking across his cheek. He barely moves, absorbing the blow, shifting only slightly. He takes the next blow to his stomach and then one to his shoulder, shifting minutely to accommodate the knocks. Raiden narrows his eyes at Dread and steps back, taking quick stock of knuckles. They’re already bleeding.