The Elemental Trial

by J. A. Armitage

  I straightened, taking in the royal pair. They were both incredibly fair, with skin that was almost translucent and curly flaxen hair. The king’s poufed in a halo around his head, while the queen’s hung down to her waist. They both had thin, angular faces, with wide mouths and striking silver eyes. Their clothing was pastel silk embroidered with threads of silver and gold, the king wearing knee-high boots of the lightest, supplest leather. Just being in their presence made me feel calm—serene, which I knew probably meant I should be doubly on guard.

  Footsteps sounded behind us, and I turned to see the other teams approaching, a sour look on Molly and Sophia’s face. Tristam and Ario seemed content to ignore the rest of us.

  Tristam led with a little bow, which the others followed. “King Finverr, Queen Astra, so good to see you both again. My father bids you hello.”

  I wanted to gag. Of course, the jerk was playing up his faerie royal status as much as he could. Two beautiful tall women in cornflower blue robes emerged behind the king and queen, bearing trays with glasses of peach liquid. They offered them to each of us, and I took one, sniffing it, trying to gauge whether it was poisoned. It smelled like guava juice.

  Most of the others had drunk theirs, so I took a tentative sip. It was delicious, kind of like if an orange and a watermelon had a baby. All I needed was a flower lei, and I could imagine I was being welcomed to some fancy tropical resort.

  “Welcome, all of you. This palace is a place of peace and refuge. You will find this leg of the race much different than those of the past. Your bodies have been tested, your endurance, and your magic. Here, your minds will be tested.”

  The queen stepped forward, her hands opening wide, showing her draping sleeves. “Tomorrow you will face a battle of wits, if you will. But today, we would like to honor you with a feast to truly display the hospitality of the sylphs.”

  “Thank you,” Tristam said, bowing again, and the rest of us murmured our thanks.

  The queen continued, “Our valets will show you to your rooms where you can rest and take refreshment. Feel free to explore the aerie. Our home is your home.”

  With that, we followed the two servants into another hallway. I polished off my juice, dropping the glass in a planter I passed on the way. Orin caught me, rolling his eyes at me. I shrugged. I didn’t know where one returned their dishes in a mystical sylph palace.

  As we wound through the carved passageways, passing more ethereal sylphs in pastel silks, I pondered this turn of events. Normally, I would consider a fancy party and a test to be seriously preferable to being chased by faerie monsters and trying to survive on apples for a week. But this was Faerwild, where nothing was as it seemed. And hadn’t I learned that over the Hedge, the most beautiful things were the most dangerous?

  I revised my assessment. The fact that this leg seemed the cushiest of all crystallized one powerful thought in my mind—I needed to be on my guard more than ever.

  16

  I was shown to a room that was so spectacularly beautiful that for a second I thought they'd brought me to the king and queen's room by mistake. I stood at the doorway, afraid to enter.

  "Are you sure this is for me?" I asked the valet as I poked my head in and surveyed the rich furnishings. The room was bigger than my whole apartment in Irvine.

  "Yes ma'am, is it to your liking?"

  "Just go in Jacq, of course it's for you," Orin said, pushing me into the room. I thought I heard him snort before the door closed behind me, leaving me alone in a place that would rival the penthouse in any top hotel. The white walls were painted with intricate murals in pale blue surrounded by moldings of silver that extended right up to the ceiling. The white marble floor was almost entirely covered with the most exquisite rug in swirling colors like a spring sunrise...and the bed...oh! It looked like a piece of heaven itself with a thick white duvet and an avalanche of pale blue and silver pillows nestled against the headboard.

  I thought it might be the most decadent and sumptuous room I'd ever seen, but it was nothing compared to the view the huge windows afforded. Across from me stood a wall of floor to ceiling glass windows, with a long balcony outside that paralleled the full length of the room. Pale blue curtains with delicate silver embroidery hung at each end. It was a toss-up to decide what to do first—run and jump on the bed or head outside to take in the view of Faerwild stretched beneath me. “This is so much better than the goblin mine,” I muttered to myself. Finally, the FFR had gotten something right. Maybe the viewers were getting tired of seeing us smeared with mud and faint with hunger.

  I headed through a glass door to the balcony. The view was, in a word, breathtaking. Below me, Faerwild stretched out for miles. I could see towns and cities and endless expanses of fields and forests. In the distance, I thought I spotted the mountain with the dragon from the last trial, but the view was obscured by white fluffy clouds passing by beneath us. Hearing a noise, I turned to my right. Dulcina was out on her balcony.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" I said in awe. "The view, the room."

  Dulcina shrugged. "Not bad."

  Not bad? I guess as a Pegasus, she'd seen this kind of thing before, but I wondered what kind of upbringing she'd had where she thought the room only qualified as not bad.

  The balcony to my left was empty. Of course it was. There was no way Orin would come out, as afraid of heights as he was. I gave Dulcina a little wave and headed back inside.

  I had to do it. I just had to. I launched myself at the bed and bounced like a little kid in a bouncy house...and that's when the valet walked in.

  "I did knock, ma'am," he said as I hopped, red-faced, to the floor. "I've brought your personal stylist. I thought you might like to have a chat with her about your dress for this evening."

  I nodded, trying to keep my face straight as a young sylph female with a sketchpad walked in behind him. "Wait, what dress?" I asked. It was not entirely clear what I would need a dress for.

  The female headed over to me. She had eyes as blue as the sky outside. When she spoke, her voice was nothing more than a whisper. "For the ball ma'am. There will be a feast and dancing."

  I gulped. The king had said a feast, and I was all about the eating, but I didn’t realize we’d have to get fancy.

  The valet left, closing the door behind him while the girl looked up at me expectantly.

  "Do I really need a dress?" I asked, already resigned to the answer. Wouldn't it be easier and a lot more fun if they just threw us in a pit with a bunch of lions? Certainly less embarrassing for me. I had never been very good at playing dress up. But, I had insisted on wearing my FFR uniform to the debrief after the first trial, and I had ended up feeling super self-conscious. I had learned my lesson. I would let this chick do her thing.

  "The ball is the highlight of the sylph season. It just so happens that the Faerie Race coincides with the grand ball this year. You are so very lucky."

  "Sure," I murmured, looking longingly at the bed. I guess it was going to be a long time until I was going to get to lie in it.

  “So, what do you want? Silk? Chiffon?” Her face lit up. “Oh, feathers are big this year. What style? A-line? Empire? Do you want a peplum? Oh, do you like poufy sleeves? Perhaps a cape?”

  I literally had no idea what most of those words meant. Was she still talking about dresses? A few I recognized though. “No cape. No poufy sleeves!”

  She scribbled in her book and began to sketch. “Color?”

  I shrugged. Did it really matter? I was here to win a race. “How about you pick my dress?” I said, ushering her to the door. She gave me a wide grin as if I'd just granted her biggest wish and practically skipped out the door.

  I sagged with relief when she left, making my way to the downy softness of the bed, my eyes heavy. Last night’s cot had seemed like heaven at the time, but compared to this, it was a sad imitation of a bed. A nap sounded like just about the best idea in the world. My eyelids were heavy. Just a few minutes…

  A knock on the door
startled me awake. I wiped the drool from my chin. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes. Maybe this was part of the race. Give us all an amazing bed, then keep interrupting us. It was torture. But when I glanced at the clock, I saw that hours had passed. Maybe I had needed the rest more than I thought.

  I opened the door to find a longhaired man with a briefcase. He was dressed in a long, white robe which didn't match the black leather briefcase. Frameless spectacles sat on his nose.

  It was like Gandalf had decided to become an IRS agent and pay me a visit to audit my taxes.

  “I'm here to make you beautiful,” he said with a sly smile, pushing past me into the room. He appeared human. I wondered if he’d come just for the trial, or if he lived here?

  “Excuse me?” I turned to find him opening his briefcase on the dressing table. Inside was an explosion of color. It wasn't a briefcase at all, it was a makeup bag.

  “Take a pew,” he said, patting a nearby chair, upholstered in pale blue brocade. I must have been staring at him with an open mouth because he gestured again for me to come quickly.

  His briefcase was like Mary Poppins’ bag if it came complete with a never-ending supply of brushes and palettes of color. He put everything to one side and brought out more brushes and products that appeared to be for my hair. I fingered the brittle end of my ponytail and grimaced. A little TLC wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like I had time for deep conditioning while I was running from dragons and goblins and avoiding double-crossing faeries.

  “What color dress did you go with?” he asked as he began combing through the snarls in my hair.

  “I didn't. I told the stylist to choose.”

  The makeup guy snorted through his nose. “Risky move. They like to outdo each other.”

  I watched my reflection through wisps of hair he'd brushed over my face and wondered what I'd gotten myself into. I'd specified no poufy sleeves, but I'd not thought to tell the dresser that I didn't want any of the dress to be poufy.

  “We'll go with diamonds then. Diamonds are classic. They go with anything.”

  He was giving me diamonds?

  I closed my eyes as he pulled on my hair, brushing it this way and that and only opened them when he declared himself finished. I think I dozed off.

  When I opened my eyes, I was shocked at the sight. He'd created a work of art. My usual curls had been fashioned into a half-braided updo which he'd decorated with two sparkling diamond hair clips that stuck up in a halo reminiscent of a crown.

  “Wow!” I had to admit, I was impressed.

  “We've only just started, my darling. Here, put these in your ears.” He handed me a pair of diamond teardrop earrings.

  By the time he'd finished my makeup, I looked like one of the Hollywood starlets I’d seen around on set sometimes. But more classic and less showy, if I did say so myself. I looked beautiful. My resistance to being dressed up like a doll faded slightly. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try to make myself presentable some of the time. I wondered what Orin would think when he saw me.

  “Ah, the dress.”

  I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off my own reflection to see the dress, which I assumed had just been brought into the room. I was still so shocked that the image in the mirror was me. I never knew I could look as beautiful as I did now.

  When I finally beheld it, the dress turned out to be as stunning as the hair and makeup. The sleeveless ball gown was made out of shimmering rose gold fabric affixed with thousands of tiny crystals. When I stepped into it, and it was fastened up, I turned into a fairytale princess.

  None of this was my style. The decadent room, the expensive jewelry, the gorgeous ball gown. I was a cowboy boots-wearing, country girl, but right now, just for this moment in time, I'd take it. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I could barely see the simple girl from Montana. Before me, stood a princess.

  The valet came back to escort me to the ball. As we opened the door I saw Ben standing there, clad in a sharp black tuxedo. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of me, his camera drooping on his shoulder.

  “Wow. Jacq…” He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Just, wow.”

  “I guess I need to let faeries dress me more often,” I joked. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I gestured up and down the length of him. He did look good. His sandy blond hair was combed back neatly, and his shoes were polished to a shine.

  “Thanks,” was all he said, his cheeks reddening, his eyes still affixed to my dress.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be…filming?” I joked gently.

  “Right!” He hoisted the camera back to his shoulder, his cheeks brightening even more.

  I thought I heard the valet snort softly beside me. “Let’s go,” I said. We strode through the palace, my dress so long that I felt like I was floating. My stomach was aflutter with nerves, and as we stood before the ballroom doors, I had a premonition that everyone else would be in their FFR uniforms and I'd be a laughing stock.

  But as the doors opened, I was proved wrong. The room was filled with people in the most wondrous costumes. Women in breathtaking gowns, men in suits of gray and tan, and a mix of strange and wonderful creatures. No one batted an eyelid as I walked through the doors. A couple of very tall faeries with brilliant blue skin nodded at me as the valet left my side, but otherwise, I was just a face in a sea of faces.

  The music started up, and the people in the middle of the ballroom began to dance. I headed towards the edge of the room to give them space. The room itself was as beautiful as everything else in this place, with a soaring arched ceiling that was painted to look like a summer sky.

  “You scrubbed up well.” Sophia sidled up to me looking every inch the Latina supermodel she was. Unlike me with my gown, she'd gone for a figure-hugging eggplant dress that showed off her perfect body and had a split so high up her thigh, I could almost see if she was wearing underwear or not. Her ebony hair was piled over one shoulder, baring her tan swanlike neck and chandelier earrings in sparkling amethyst.

  “You look lovely, too, Sophia.”

  She gave me a broad smile that told me that she knew she was hot shit before she disappeared into the throng, leaving me standing all alone and unsure what to do.

  A waiter, or at least, I think that's what it was—it was wearing a white jacket and black pants (though it had four arms and no apparent mouth)—offered me a glass of champagne. Struggling not to stare, and wondering how the hell that faerie ate, I took a glass of sparkling liquid with a smile. I took a sip, grateful to have something to do and some alcohol to take the edge off my nerves. The effervescent liquid was tasty—fresh with traces of a flavor I thought I recognized as caramel.

  “You two really should make up.”

  I turned to find Dulcina beside me. She was wearing a slinky dress in the exact same shade of lavender as her hair, which was piled into an elaborate coif on her head. Her pale skin was covered in sparkles. Not sure if those were natural. But either way, she looked awesome, like a sexy cupcake.

  "We did," I replied, assuming she was talking about Orin. “Or at least, I think we did.” We'd brushed it under the rug at least. That’s about as good as it was going to get.

  “He's quite handsome when you get him out of all that black. Sometimes all it takes is a new set of clothes to help you see someone in a new light.”

  I followed her intent gaze across the room, and then, I saw him. Orin. They’d dressed him in a gray suit with a sheen to the fabric and a slim cut, together with a black skinny tie. His hair was styled in a new way, the layers that had taken to falling into his eyes during the race swept to the side in gelled spikes. My heart stuttered as I saw him. Dulcina was right. He cut a very dashing figure. But that wasn’t what made my knees feel weak. It was that he looked as uncomfortable and lost as I felt in this opulent room. "Excuse me for a minute, I've got to..."

  “You go, girl.” Dulcina took a step back to let me pass, letting out a quiet giggl
e.

  Orin's eyes opened wide as I approached him, his mouth forming the word “Wow.” I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the look of awe on his face felt damn good.

  “You look—” he said.

  “You too,” I added, feeling ridiculously shy. This was stupid. Orin and I had been through some serious shit together, we could get through a damn fancy ball. “I feel like a fish out of water,” I admitted. “I don't know what to do here.”

  Orin glanced over my shoulder. “I think we’re supposed to dance.” He said it like a question, and I nodded. He took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor. My heart hammered in my chest at the feel of his hand in mine and the thought of what we were about to do. We’d been shoved together in close quarters before, but this was different. This was—purposeful. By choice.

  As his free arm locked around my waist and we began to move, our bodies pressed together, my heart skittered, and my breathing deepened at the unexpected electricity between us.

  Even more unexpected was the way he danced. I would never in a million year have pegged Orin as a dancer, but he moved beautifully. He spun me around the dance floor with practiced ease, and in his arms, I felt like a pro. As he weaved me around, I caught glimpses of the looks of surprise on the faces of the other contestants. Everyone looked beautiful, but no one was dancing the way Orin and I were. I might have even caught an expression of jealousy in Tristam's eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination, but vindication filled me anyway. Who would have guessed? I was the belle of the ball.

  I didn't care about them anyway. I ignored them and the blinking red lights of the cameras. I was here with Orin, and the way he was looking at me through those dark eyes of his filled me with a longing I would never have thought Orin could produce in me.

  Everything was in a whirl, and I was falling freely into it. As the song came to an end, Orin lowered his head, his lips moving towards mine. He was going to kiss me. And I was going to let him. It was frightening, and perfect, and a million other things at once.