This is agony.
I pace back and forth in front of my balcony. Do I want to go out and see what I can? Or will that make it worse?
Anna should be here by now. She didn’t mention going to the opening ceremony this morning. Where is she?
“I should be there!” I say, though there is no one in the room to hear me.
I should be sitting next to Mother waving and smiling as each participant gallops through the arena in their colors, their men holding their flags behind them. I should hear the trumpets blare, not hear their faint call on the breeze.
This is my tournament.
A small nagging voice, one I tend to ignore, reminds me it’s my fault I’m here and not there.
“This time Father’s gone too far, though!” I exclaim and then realize I am, in fact, arguing with myself.
Five trumpets have sounded, and still no Anna.
Six trumpets.
Seven.
“Enough!” I march from the room. I swing the door open and startle the poor guard who was unlucky enough to be on my watch today. I’m sure he’d rather be at the tournament too.
He calls to me, but I ignore him and stalk down the hall. I look one last time for Anna and then escort myself down the stairs.
The trumpets continue to sound, but I’m too far away to hear the names announced. I hope I’m not too late to see Galinor ride through the arena. I don’t know if he received my message. I don’t even know if the boy was able to find him.
I didn’t bother to cover my hair or dress, so I’ll be easy to spot if anyone is looking. With the excitement, I don’t think too many people will even notice me.
I don’t go to the stands. I couldn’t even if I wanted to; they are too crowded. Instead, I stand with the hordes of people outside the arena. I see the end of Irving’s introduction. He joins the line of mounted men across the arena facing my family’s platform. They won’t be fighting today, so they aren’t in armor but instead are wearing tunics in their kingdom’s colors.
Rigel is on his midnight steed next to Irving. His dark hair is pulled back, just long enough to secure at the nape of his neck. He glances toward the crowd, and I swear his eyes meet mine. I feel a chill and look away. There’s no way he singled me out in this crowd. I’m sure of it.
A lord from Framnull is announced, and the crowd cheers. He and his men circle the arena. The men exit with their flags, and he takes his place next to Irving.
I’m not surprised when Archer steps up next to me.
“Watching for me, were you?” I ask, standing on the tips of my toes as the trumpets sound for the youngest of the Triblue princes, Dristan.
“I assumed you would find a way.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“I don’t see Galinor.”
A man bumps me from behind, and Archer turns to glare at him. The man apologizes and moves away.
“He’s third to last,” Archer says.
I nod. Bran’s announced after Dristan, and he makes his loop and joins his brother.
“Why aren’t you up there?” I motion to the platform where my family is seated. Standing behind them are my father’s elite.
“I’m not a knight,” he answers, his voice clipped.
I pull my eyes from the arena, irritated. “You are Father’s master archer.”
He holds a hand up and shakes his head.
“It’s not fair,” I hiss at a whisper, getting angry now. “You saved his brother’s life,” I say, referring to a particularly bloody battle near the end of the dragon war—one of the last in Errinton that Sir Kimble and Archer shouldn’t have technically been involved in.
I run my finger down the long scar on his arm to remind him.
He jerks his arm away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Your grandfather is a lord.”
His eyes flash now. “Pippa, that is enough.”
There are a few soft exclamations around us, and several people look at me for the first time. I’m about to respond when the trumpets sound and Galinor is announced.
The crowd’s cries are loud. He sits tall and regal on his horse. Already my handsome prince is a favorite with the people. I watch him take his loop, and I’m nearly bursting with pride. I yell with the crowd, cheering for my prince.
Archer doesn’t speak until Galinor has found his place in line. “The people like him.” His voice is neither approving nor judgmental.
“Of course they do,” I answer. “Look at him.”
None can match Galinor in both looks and size. Irving is nearly as handsome, but nowhere near as muscular. Lionel is large, but very plain in comparison.
Galinor is the kind of man legends are made from. Bards will sing his praises for years to come. I don’t mention this to Archer.
The next man to ride, one of Lauramore’s very own lords, receives another loud cheer from the crowd. Finally Lionel, the last competitor, is announced. He’s very serious and looks a little put out. In his mind, he’s already won the tournament, and all this is folly.
With the last of the introductions finished, my father stands. A hush goes over the crowd, and I can almost feel the people’s excitement as we wait to hear the much anticipated items on the scavenger hunt list.
“I want to thank you for joining the tournament, and I apologize for my daughter’s absence.”
A few of the villagers next to us glance my way, and—much to my chagrin—so does Rigel.
“The scavenger hunt is a time honored tradition, and we were careful to choose items unique to Lauramore. Each item is worth one point, and the man to first arrive with all five items will be awarded one bonus point. I wish you all luck. Percival will now announce the items.”
Father returns to his seat, and my eldest brother stands, looking as much a king as my father. “Your items are as follows: A slain grim boar—”
The crowd murmurs, acknowledging the danger of the first item.
“Maid-of-the-shadows,” he continues. “An inger egg, eldentimber resin.” He pauses, waiting for the crowd to quiet. “And the last item…”
I lean forward, holding my breath.
“Is for you to decipher. You must find the most valuable item in the kingdom.”
I groan. They want a black lake pearl. Impossible.
I turn to Archer. “It’s too rare. Why would they choose a black pearl?”
He shakes his head, his eyebrows knitted. “It can’t be. Percival already decided it would be too dangerous to add to the list.”
“It must be. It’s the most valuable item in the kingdom.”
The black lake pearl oyster is found in deep underwater caves in the upper lake. They are rare—only one will be found for every thousand lake oysters harvested. Breathing spells and other concoctions are the only way to venture to the caves, and such things are forbidden and have been since before the peace agreement with the dragons. No one has found a black lake pearl in over ten years.
“It’s something else,” Archer says.
Though he’s determined, I don’t believe him. It must be a pearl.
***
Anna is oddly absent again this morning. It’s not like her to disappear. But it’s not like me to wait—so I don’t.
I have a mission this morning, and I will need help.
When I find Archer, he looks lost in another world. He’s adding fletching to a stack of arrows, and I don’t think he hears me come in the armory.
“Can you finish later?” I lean over his shoulder and whisper close to his ear.
He jumps, just like I had hoped he would. I laugh as he whips around, pinning me with a sharp look of surprise.
“Pippa, what are you doing here?” he asks, standing. As he moves, I get a whiff of pine oil. “It’s not time for your lesson.”
“We’re not doing lessons today. You’re going to help me find Galinor.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”
I bristle and stand a little taller. I will find him, and it will wo
rk better if Archer helps me.
“It’s your fault I wasn’t free to see Galinor before he left.”
“Pippa, we have already discussed that,” he says, his voice on the edge of irritated.
This isn’t working. We’ll just fight if I push it, and I don’t want to fight with him right now. I hold up my hands. “Come with me.”
He sighs. “Where’s Anna?”
I shrug and examine one of his finished arrows. “I don’t know. She told me to go to lessons this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Disappearing—it’s a family trait.” He plucks the arrow from my hands, still testy from the scare I gave him.
I raise an eyebrow and cock my head. “Come on. Even if we don’t find Galinor, a ride will be fun. How many chances do you think we have left?”
He glances away, and I notice a stray eyelash near his eye.
“Hold still.” I step forward to brush it away.
Archer freezes as I attempt to remove it.
“It’s being difficult.” The eyelash falls to his cheek, and I step closer, humming with frustration. I place one hand on his shoulder to keep him still. I finally flick it away. “There. I got it.”
His muscles are tense under my hand, and I know he’s irritated with my fussing.
I smile at him, and his blue-green eyes meet mine. His expression is dark, his lips slightly parted. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow.
Archer clears his throat and steps back, and I’m left feeling slightly off kilter. He turns away, clearing the mess from his project. “If I tell you no, you’ll go anyway?”
“Of course.” I try to laugh, but it comes out weak. I scan a wall of knives as I wait for him, wondering where I would carry one. I choose one and test its weight.
He looks over his shoulder, his expression as neutral as usual. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Really?” I ask, turning back to him.
Archer eyes the knife in my hand.
“How uncomfortable would it be to hide this in the leg of my boot?” I ask.
“With your luck, you’ll slice your leg,” he says. “Leave it for now. I’ll make you a belt and sheath.”
I narrow my eyes, lean down, and slide the cold steel next to my leg. He’s right. I’ll probably stab myself before the day is over.
“Stubborn,” he says under his breath. “Take off your boot.”
“What are you going to do to it?”
He leans down and slowly pulls the knife out. After he sets it aside, he tugs off my boot, sending me off balance. Trying to steady myself, I grab his shoulders.
“Archer!”
He glances up, smirking. “I’ll stitch a sleeve in it. It will only take a few minutes.”
I hop backwards to the bench to wait.
It takes more than a few minutes—more like half an hour.
“Finished,” he finally says, admiring his work. He’s stitched a piece of leather to the inside leg of my boot. Now I can slide the knife safely in it without maiming myself.
Once again, he kneels in front of me, and I offer my foot. As he slides the boot on, his thumbs travel up my calf. “How does it feel?”
I blink, my cheeks growing warm.
“Pippa? Does the boot feel all right?”
“Perfect,” I answer.
He knits his eyebrows. “Are we going?”
“Of course,” I say when I realize I’m still sitting on the bench, staring at him. I leap up, and then I feel lightheaded from the swift movement.
Knowing Archer will follow me, I march through the door.
***
We race through the trees, darting down rabbit trails only we know about. While going around a bend, I push Willowisp past Archer and laugh as I pass.
“You’re getting slow!” I yell over my shoulder as I lower myself on Willowisp’s neck and fly into a meadow.
We race to the boulder that stands at the end of the clearing, and I shriek with joy when I win. Willowisp prances and shakes her mane, proud of herself.
My hair is falling out of its braids, and I pull the pins free and shake it out, tossing the red and gold mass over my head. Archer and his horse join us moments later. I flip my hair back and grin at him.
“I won,” I say smugly.
“You cheat.” Despite his words, he’s grinning. Archer is freer in the forest than anywhere else, and I like him this way.
I drop from Willowisp’s back to stretch my legs, and I put my hands on my hips. “How did I cheat?”
“You jumped the creek instead of going around to the bridge.” He joins me on the ground. His light brown hair is almost blond in the sunshine. He’s only four years older than I am, and here in the forest he looks as young as he is.
He stretches his back. He’s gained muscle in the last few years. He still has the tall, lean build of an archer, but he’s strong from sparring with Alexander and the rest of the knights. It’s no wonder the garden maids giggle when he passes.
I sit on a fallen log, remove my boots, and stretch my toes.
Archer looks in the distance. “I think we’re getting close to the competitors now. We’ll have to be careful.”
“How will we find Galinor?”
“Do you have something of his?” Archer looks away.
I think hard, wondering why we hadn’t exchanged tokens. I shake my head. “Nothing.”
He nods, satisfied with my answer. “We would have had to go back for a hound, anyway.”
I hadn’t thought how we’d find Galinor. I figured we’d stumble on him if we rode long enough. With thirty competitors, the odds are good we’ll run into one of the others first. If it were Irving, Bran, or Dristan, that would be all right. If it were Lionel or Rigel—well, it wouldn’t be good.
“We’ll have to rely on my hawk,” Archer says. It circles in the sky watching for mice.
“How will she help?”
“She’ll alert us when we come near people, but she can’t lead us to Galinor.”
I bite my lip, thinking. “Galinor didn’t like the terraces. I think he’ll make his way to the valley where he’s more comfortable.”
“They don’t have mountains in Glendon,” he agrees. “We’ll start there.”
I feel better now that we have a destination. The breeze feels good, and I close my eyes and think.
“What is it?” Archer asks when I’ve been quiet for several moments.
I open my eyes. “The garden maids need another flower bed to keep them busy.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press for an explanation.
Chapter Seven
The hawk screams in the sky, and Archer rides up next to me. He puts a finger to his lips. “She sees someone,” he whispers.
I nod and pull Willowisp back.
Archer continues on the trail ahead of us, and I wait for him to return. He does, several minutes later, shaking his head. “Lord Orick.”
He turns down a deer trail and waves for me to follow him as we skirt around the lord. We’ve done this routine several times now, and I can’t help but think we’re getting close to Galinor.
The deeper into the dark timber we get, the more likely we are to run into a grim boar—and the more likely we are to run into the men hunting them.
Biting gnats are thick here, and I wish I’d thought to visit Yuven for a repellent. I slap my arm and groan, resisting the urge to scratch the bite. I glance at Archer.
“Why aren’t they biting you?” I ask, my voice a little testy. I have more exposed skin along my arms, neck, and chest, but he has his tunic sleeves rolled up due to the heat.
He glances back. “A laundry girl made a batch of soap with repelling oils in it, and she gave it to me. It seems to work.”
That explains his earthy pine scent earlier.
“That was kind of her. I’m sure the woodsman and knights appreciate it as well.”
A ghost of a smirk tips his lips. “It was just for me.”
I open my mouth to respo
nd but close it again. “Oh,” I finally answer, lamely. “How lovely of her.”
The hawk cries again, and this time I’m sure it’s Galinor.
“Let me come with you,” I whisper.
“No. Wait here.”
I follow him anyway. Through the trees, I see a horse and rider. The horse is dark in the shadows, and I’m sure it’s Galinor’s bay. Excited to have finally found him, I hurry past Archer.
“Pippa, no!”
The rider turns toward us, having heard the noise. His horse takes a few steps, going from shadow to sunlight, and I gasp.
It’s Rigel.
I pull Willowisp behind a cluster of trees, but I’m not sure if he saw me.
“Who’s there?” Rigel calls.
I shiver and clamp by jaw shut, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
“Show yourself,” he says, louder this time.
Archer glares at me, and he’s just turning his horse when there’s a loud crashing in the brush to the south of us. I stifle a scream. I can smell the grim boar from here, and it reeks. I’ve only seen a live one once or twice, and I forgot how large they are. I only get to peek through the trees.
Its head comes to Rigel’s waist.
The boar charges him with a guttural cry. Almost as soon as the attack starts, it goes silent. It shouldn’t surprise me a dragon slayer would make quick work of a charging grim boar. A morbid part of me wants to see the creature and make sure it’s really dead.
“Now is the time to leave,” Archer says from beside me.
I follow him back the way we came. He doesn’t speak as we ride. Is he upset? I should have listened to him.
“Do you think Galinor’s found anything?” I ask when I can’t take the silence any longer.
Archer looks over, and he doesn’t look angry. “He had all day yesterday. Let’s hope he’s found something.”
“I showed him the maid-of-the-shadows when I took him to the cave. He will have found those,” I answer, confident I’m right.
“Let’s hope so.”
We continue on in silence. The morning is almost over, and we still haven’t found Galinor.
I startle when I finally hear the hawk’s shrill cry. Archer glances at me, but he doesn’t have to tell me.
“I’ll wait here.”
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 6
