Sadness flits across his face, and I know, at once, that he’s not the villain here.
“None have survived,” Camden says solemnly, “but that’s because no one has won before.”
None?
None have survived?
My legs begin to shake. Rather than fall on my butt, I purposefully lower myself to sit on the unkept grass. I lean forward and rest my arms on bent knees as I process the information.
What kind of monster is the queen to continue to host this spectacle? And what kind of monsters are the Fae who bet on us? I remember Lord Oslo and his prying questions about my abilities. Are all Fae betting on the winner? Or are they so morbid as to try and guess how long of us will survive once the contest begins?
My stomach rolls. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Facing the ground, trying to keep my dinner in my belly, I mutter, “Can you explain?”
Camden is quiet as he gathers his thoughts. “No contestant has made it to the Cursed Cavern before. The contest doesn’t end until someone retrieves the diadem. Once a winner is declared, the contest ends, and all other remaining contestants are returned to the castle.”
So, there is hope for us as long as one of us wins the contest. But that hasn’t happened the last six times Queen Aria has done this.
I won’t pretend to deny I feel hopeless.
Camden’s shadow falls over me. I don’t look up. I can’t. I can’t let him see the tears burning the back of my eyes.
He sits in front of me. His long legs are bent like mine, and our feet almost touch.
Softly, he confesses, “I would stop it if I could.”
Forgetting my watery eyes, I look up. “You’re sure you can’t?”
Genuine remorse stares back at me. “Not without giving my aunt leave to paint me as disloyal. The diadem she wants retrieved holds great power. It was once worn by the first queen in the Fae Realm. It’s said to make its wearer immune to all enemy magic, including the Darkness.”
“So Queen Aria wants the powerful crown to wear, so she can defeat this Darkness, then what? Do Fae seriously think she’s not going to take advantage of the extra power? She could turn into a total dictator.” I’ve only seen the queen once, but that is enough to know she is power-hungry.
The corner of his lips twitch. “Already, you are far wiser than even some of the oldest, most powerful Fae in Seelie. Queen Aria states she will bestow the diadem on my future bride.”
My eyebrows almost reach my hairline. “Your future human bride?”
He releases an unamused laugh. “Yes. Ridiculous, I know. But the nobles are enchanted by the queen. They’ll believe anything she says, and King Sebastian will not agree to fight with Seelie without the diadem, but it must not wind up on my aunt’s head.”
I frown. It sounds like everyone involved is being willingly naïve. Do they seriously believe Queen Aria is going to give her prize to a human?
But whatever. Who am I to judge? I’d willingly stayed in the Fae Realm without ever trying to escape, all because I believed I’d actually have the chance to leave once this was over.
Neither of us speak. Slowly, I begin to accept the position I am in. There is nothing I can do. I’m going to risk my life. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I will live long enough for someone else to accomplish the near-impossible and get the diadem.
I sigh. I can’t believe I’m most likely going to die over a stupid, fancy Fae crown.
“Queen Aria and the Unseelie king seemed friendly enough at the banquet.” I don’t know what makes me say that. The words just kind of slip out. “Even if we don’t get the diadem, I’m sure he will help Seelie fight the Darkness.”
Camden narrows his eyes. “You’re wrong about Sebastian. He and his people have been wreaking havoc on Seelie lands for almost two decades.”
I’m stunned. “Then why was he invited to the banquet?” And why had he and the queen looked like a couple straight out of a celebrity magazine? There’s definitely something else going on there. I can feel it in my gut.
“I do not know. My aunt didn’t bother to tell me he’d be there. I’m not her number one confidant in matters of state. She does her best to keep as far away from influential decisions as possible.”
I lean forward, intrigued. “Has the contestant’s prize always been to marry you?” I’m wondering if Queen Aria is doing it as a not-so-subtle jab to her nephew—a way to prevent him from ever grasping real power.
He leans forward, too. Now, there’s less than two feet of space between us. His stunning green eyes draw me in.
“No,” Camden’s frown deepens, but it does nothing to lesson his regal allure. “That is a new addition. The queen has found a way to keep my ascension to the throne at bay. All Seelie nobles are obsessed with seeing my bride earn her place at my side, and they want that blasted diadem in the hands of our Court. No influential Fae bothers to raise the issue of succession while this contest continues.”
The prince shakes his head and releases a humorless laugh. “I must give it to my aunt, she is a masterful manipulator.”
I take in all he says, then I give an awkward chuckle. “Well, maybe the incentive will actually help one of us win.”
God, why did I just say that?
Heat flashes in Camden’s eyes, but they quickly cool into an apologetic shine. “I am sorry I couldn’t tell you details about the contest. In the past, any young women warned about the impending events were swiftly removed from the competition.”
I gulp. “Queen Aria killed them?”
“I have no proof, but I believe so.”
“Well, thanks for not risking my life by telling me.” It may be morbid to make a joke after such a statement, but humor is the only thing I can think to use to make this ordeal bearable. Without it, I might break. And I can’t afford to fall apart. I need to get my head on the right track.
“I would save every single one of your lives if I could.”
We stare at each other, both of us attempting to gauge the other’s feelings and sincerity.
My lips dry out. I lick them, then admit, “I believe you.”
Camden’s eyes flicker to my mouth. He swallows. Desire hangs heavy in the air. “Do you still want to run?”
The way he’s staring at my lips, I don’t think he wants me to say yes. I don’t think he wants me to break away from this moment.
I’m not sure I do, either.
He leans a little closer, and I quickly scramble to my feet. “Yes,” I say, trying to hide how breathless I sound. “The contest is in three days. Time for me to take cardio seriously.”
Camden gets to his feet with much more grace. “Should we wait for Frederick?”
I shake my head, smiling awkwardly. “He can catch up.” Then, I take off into the trees, determined to outrun the butterflies attempting to take flight in my stomach.
15
“Shit.” Jordan jumps up from her seat on my bed. She almost hits her head on the bottom of the bunk above. “Shit!”
I’d just returned from my run with Prince Camden. Frederick never joined us, and we’d silently agreed not to broach the subject of the contest again. I plan on digging for more information the next time we meet, but I need the chance to get a grip on what I already know before I add even more to my mental plate.
The moment I’d walked into the barracks, I found Jordan and told her about the previous contests… and the fate of the contestants.
The single curse word is the only reaction she can muster.
I don’t blame her. My reaction hadn’t been much better.
“Yeah… agreed.”
Jordan’s fingers dig into her hair, clutching her scalp before she throws her arms down at her side in an angry huff. “They all died? How could they keep this from us?”
The girls on the nearest bunk glance our way.
“Let’s talk outside.” I stand and head toward the exit. Jordan’s angry mutters follow me as I weave through the bunks.
I walk a good distance a
way from the barracks, ensuring we won’t be overheard, before I face my friend.
Hands on her hips, Jordan huffs, “How long have you known they all died?”
I take a step back, thrown off by the forceful question. “The prince just told me.”
“Are you sure?” There’s mistrust in her eyes. “You and the prince have seen each other almost every evening. Not to mention, he searched you out at the banquet. Is what the others say true? Are you his favorite? Is he going to help you win?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Are you serious? I’m not keeping secrets, and the prince didn’t tell me a thing about the contest until after the queen’s speech at the banquet. Other contestants were removed from the contest for knowing information in advance.”
Jordan’s stare is unrelenting, and I know she’s looking for even the slightest hint I’m not telling the truth. Her doubt stings.
“Why would the prince tell you now?”
“Because now we know about the contest.” I remind her, doing my best to remain patient. “Otherwise I’d be disqualified, and apparently disqualified contestants are never seen from again.”
“SHIT.”
“I know.”
Jordan shakes her head. “This is insanity. They can’t really expect us to risk our lives.”
“Apparently, they do.”
“I’ll talk to Morty.” She looks off in the distance. I get the feeling she’s talking more to herself than me. “Maybe he knows a way to get us out of this.”
“Morty is Fae,” I remind her. “And he’s a sentry.”
“I know, but we’re… I don’t know. Friends, maybe? He might help us.”
I think back to the lingering glances I’ve witnessed Morty give Jordan. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”
Jordan gives a little cough. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Oh, no…
“Jordan,” I lower my voice. “You can’t be serious.”
The darkness hides most of her features, but I would bet money she’s blushing furiously. “Nothing’s happened.”
“Then why do you sound like that?”
“Sound like what?”
“Like you’re guilty.”
Jordan turns around and paces away before spinning back and closing the distance between us. She looks from left to right, confirming we are still alone. “I promise, nothing’s happened. But…”
There’s so much untold trouble hanging on that one word.
“But, what?”
“But Morty has asked me to be with him once the contest is over.”
Whoa.
“Really?”
She smiles. “Really.” She’s happy. There’s no denying she believes what she’s saying, but I’m skeptical.
“So… what? He wants to date you if you make it out of the contest alive? You obviously can’t be the first one to the diadem. Otherwise, you’ll be engaged to the prince.”
Jordan nods. “I didn’t know how dangerous the contest would be, but the plan is for me to survive. When I return, Morty has asked me to be with him.”
“What about returning home?” That’s what I’d do if I survived but didn’t win the contest. I would hope returning to Earth would help me regain my memories. Or maybe I’d run into the pixie who did this in the first place, and it could be reversed.
“I don’t have much of a home to go back to,” Jordan tells me. “Besides, Morty is nice. I could do worse.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to marry the first guy who asks? Fae or not?”
“I didn’t say anything about marrying him.”
I wave a hand in the air. “It’s a figure of speech. You would be crazy to marry him. You don’t know him well enough.” She also doesn’t know him well enough to forgo returning to Earth, but I’m not sure she’s able to see that point of view.
“That’s not the only problem. Fae can’t marry humans.”
“Excuse me?” There’s no way I heard that right.
“Marriage between Fae and humans is forbidden in Seelie. Well, except for the prince. Morty told me it’s a really big deal what the queen is doing. Kind of like the event of the century. And the humans working in the castle are hoping it’s a sign that their forced labor may be outlawed in time.”
My head is spinning. I wait for Jordan to say something else, sure she will explain the absurdity of what she’s just said. An explanation never comes.
That’s it: humans can’t marry Fae. Except the prince. And that’s the end. She has nothing else to say.
“You can’t possibly be serious. You’re going to choose to stay in Seelie and be with a guy who can never marry you?”
“Don’t judge me,” Jordan snaps. It’s the first time I’ve ever been on the other side of her temper. “You don’t know what my life was like before coming here. I don’t approve of how Fae abducted us, or the fact we’re forced to participate in a dangerous contest, but Morty genuinely likes me. He’s sweet. You should hear the things he hopes for us once I’m no longer a contestant.”
“You don’t know him!” Even at the age of nineteen, I know there’s a lot for me to experience before I even consider choosing one person to be with.
“I know enough,” Jordan replies. “There’s nothing for me on Earth.”
“Except freedom.”
“I’ll be free once the contest ends.”
My tumultuous emotions trigger my feet to begin to pace.
Jordan sighs, then murmurs, “Morty is a good guy.”
I don’t disagree with her. Morty may have been one of the Fae responsible for my abduction, but he’s long since redeemed himself as a guy who was just doing his job. He’s gone out of his way to help prepare me for the contest when I’m sure another Fae wouldn’t have been so amenable to the prince’s assigned task.
“Humans are viewed as less than in the Fae Realm. Let’s say Morty follows through with his promises and you two are together once the contest ends, Fae won’t see you as his equal. You’ll be his… concubine? Mistress? Whatever they’re called here.” I’d learned what the women servants in the fancy gowns and fine jewelry were: companions for noble Fae. Basically, prostitutes. That’s why it is so rare to see a young, pretty woman working as a maid or cook in the castle. They are snapped up and wrapped in the fingers of powerful Fae who want them for their pleasure.
I stop pacing and look at my friend. My wide eyes implore her to really consider what I’m saying, “You deserve better than that.”
“You don’t know what I deserve.” Jordan brushes past me. There’s an ominous tone to her words. I wonder, for the first time, what my newest friend’s past contains that makes her so willing to submit to a subordinate life among the Fae.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed. We have training in the morning.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I don’t want to fight with you, Sera. I like you, but you don’t know me as well as you think. We need to worry about what’s coming up in the contest. What comes after can wait.” With that, Jordan ducks back into the barracks. I’m left staring after her, knowing she’s right, but fighting every instinct screaming at me to press the issue. Camden pretty much told me even his future human bride will not be taken seriously by Seelie nobles. How would a sentry’s human lover be treated?
With a heavy sigh, I follow Jordan’s path back to the barracks. She’s right. The contest and its unimaginable dangers should be my first priority. I am determined to do my best to get out of it alive, but equally determined to not be named the victor. Let someone else figure out what life as a Seelie princess entails. All I want is to return home and get my memories back.
16
“You aren’t trying hard enough.”
Sweat rolls down my forehead, stinging my eyes. The sun is high and bright, beaming down with uncomfortable heat as the prince’s guard taunts me.
I stare at Frederick with nothing short o
f frustration. Can he not see I’m sweating like a tourist walking around Manhattan in the summertime? I didn’t ask for this one-on-one training session. Frederick had shown up at the training yard and wordlessly motioned for me to follow him. That was two hours ago, and he’s only paused his instruction to allow me three water breaks. Three.
I’m exhausted, but that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.
I toss my sparring staff to the ground and rest my hands on my knees as I bend over. My back enjoys the reprieve. “I’m doing my best.”
“If this is your best, the contest will prove difficult for you.”
My head snaps up, and my eyes narrow. “Seriously? What’s your problem?”
Frederick stands there, giving me a blank stare. “I have no problem.”
“Then why are you being so…” A dozen foul words come to mind, but I decide to stick with, “Rude.”
“It is my job to see you prepared for the contest. We only have days left.”
“I thought that was Morty’s job.” Right now, I’d much rather train with the no-nonsense, but reasonable, sentry. He, at least, would let me rehydrate while working me into a sweaty mess.
“Morty is too soft.” Frederick twists the wooden staff in his hand, perfectly at ease with the long weapon.
“Morty isn’t a hardass,” I mutter under my breath. Resigned to suffer, I pick up my own staff and widen my stance. Maybe I can get a few hits in on the guard. Who knows? It may be cathartic.
Frederick doesn’t hesitate. His staff swings down in a high arch. My arms shoot up and the strength of his blow collides with my weapon, vibrating through the wood and up my arms. Twisting my torso, I pivot and grunt as I shove with my right arm, forcing his weapon away. The next attack comes quickly. Frederick angles the bottom of the staff toward my legs, trying to sweep them out from under me. I see his plan in his eyes and manage to jump back to avoid the painful blow. I’ve already ended up on my back, the wind knocked out of me, twice today. I give a little smirk, proud I finally managed to evade the attack.
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