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He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Thank you.”
Not for my congratulations—for helping. Though I’m not certain I did much to help him. Mostly, I survived the twins. “You might be on your own for the other two. How many banners did our beastly little siblings retrieve?” I look at the three in my belt.
“I think Marcus got three before foolishly going head-to-head with you. Nina got all five.”
“Did you get all five?”
“I would have, but Nina reduced my last two to ash. That can’t possibly count, though. Vindictive little shit.”
I suppress a chuckle as Mother, Father, Marcus, and the vindictive little shit approach us from the tunnel underneath the stands. It is quite like Nina to decide if she may not win, no one will.
“Are you both all right?” Mother asks.
“Yes,” Ry says as I say, “Fine.”
“Good. Line up.” We shuffle into position, a web of glares tangling between us before Mother looks at me. “Arabella?”
Exhaustion is settling into me, but I nod and push the air to amplify her voice. How is this going to work when I live in Ceraun?
“Good people of Alchos, we thank you for joining us today. We are thrilled to be closer to finding the next ruler of our great kingdom. Three of my children shall continue to compete for the highest honor in the land. Eliminated from the trials is… Prince Marcus.”
Marcus and Nina share a charged look, but he bows and steps back gracefully. Nina’s chest heaves, her hand shaking at her side. I slip mine around it and give it a light squeeze. Her gaze meets mine and she lets out a slow breath, relaxing her shoulders.
“The winner of today’s trial is Prince Rylan,” Mother continues. The wave of cheering is so loud, I’d like to block some of the noise, but I can scarcely maintain amplification for Mother at the moment.
Ry steps forward and thrusts our banner into the air. He waves and smiles valiantly—a hero returned from victory on a battlefield. I suppose this was the point— to make the people love him. It sounds as though it’s working.
“Gods bless you all. We look forward to seeing you at the next trial.”
We follow in our parents’ wake. When they stop in a holding room, I lean against the wall, struggling to remain on my feet.
“I collected just as many banners as Ara, and I bested her power multiple times!”
Mother is unimpressed by Marcus’ outburst, glaring at him with stone-cold fury. “You, my son, came the closest to breaking the ‘don’t kill anyone’ rule.”
“The rule was we couldn’t kill each other. You didn’t say anything about ourselves!”
“You nearly killed my son!” Sparks dance across Mother’s fingertips, even though she holds a mere thread of that power. “And for what? To use Arabella’s love for you as a weapon against her?” Marcus drops his gaze. “Someone loving you is not a weakness to exploit, Marcus. It isn’t a weakness at all. Arabella showed that she is not only the stronger of the two of you but also the more compassionate. That is why she could still be crowned as heir, and you are done.” Her rapid steps echo back to us as she storms away.
Father is at my side. “Sweetheart, are you sure you’re all right?”
Before I can answer, Jamys approaches, asking the same thing.
“I’m fine. Exhausted but fine.”
Jamys doesn’t look convinced. “Do you need assistance?”
“No.” I take a deep breath and push off from the wall. My knees wobble, and Jamys wraps an arm around my waist to support me. The instinct to insist it’s unnecessary is there, but instead, I offer him a small smile. “Thank you.”
“It would be simpler if I…”
A little yip comes out of me as he scoops me up into his arms. Pressed against his chest this way, it’s the closest we’ve ever been. He’s solid, warm, and secure. The connection of our gazes is palpable, pulling warmth up to my cheeks.
“Is this all right?” His words reverberate through me.
My throat is too tight to push the word through, so I nod and allow him to carry me to a carriage which will take me back to the palace. During the short walk, I find my voice. “I suppose if you had ever pictured something like this, you’d expect me to look more elegant.” The image of this perfect prince sweeping the half-drowned mess I am off my feet must be absurd.
He shakes his head with a bemused smile. “When have you ever conformed to expectations?”
