Page 20 of A Dead End Wedding

When she reached Mrs. Frost, she bowed, but her eyes were cold. “Your gift was unnecessary and will not affect my plan to trounce you in this match.”

“Well, she’s fun,” Tess murmured, and Espelle’s hard gaze shot to my fiancée.

“Let us commence,” the queen said. She waved a hand, and two archery targets appeared at one end of the square, about a hundred and fifty feet from where we stood. “Will you use our bow, Champion of Dead End?”

Mrs. Frost shook her head. Bubba grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows from the wagon and handed them to her.

“This is the first part of the First Trial, named Courage. Your Champion will try to match or exceed our Champion’s skill. Should she succeed, we will announce the second part of the First Trial.”

The Fae really,reallyliked to talk in Capital Letters.

“Let us begin!”

I’d like to report that it was close. I mean, it was ridiculous—a little old lady, human, competing against an immortal Fae warrior who carried the bow like she was born to use it. Every Dead Ender there was hoping so hard you could almost feel a massive weight of encouragement in the air.

So, I’d like to say it was at least close.

But it wasn’t.

9

Jack

Technically Thursday: Wedding minus 9 days

Thirty minutes after midnight

Mrs. Frost trounced her.

The applause at the town hall had nothing on this. People inGeorgiaprobably heard us cheering.

The trial was simple. They each shot five arrows. As the challenger, Espelle went first and sank every single arrow into the bullseye.

Then it was our turn.

Mrs. Frost sank the first arrow into the middle of the bullseye.

The second in the middle of the first, splitting it down the middle.

The third in the middle of the second, splitting it down the middle.

The fourth in the middle of the third, splitting it down the middle.

By the time she shot that fifth and final arrow, sending it soaring into the middle of the fourth arrow, there was nothing left of the first one but splinters.

Espelle, for all her hardness, was a gracious loser. She bowed to Mrs. Frost. “I have never in my three thousand years met such a champion.”

Mrs. Frost bowed back, as much as her knees would let her. “I have never in my more than ninety years met anybody as good as you. It’s my honor.”

Then she handed her a jar of jam, which Espelle clearly had no idea what to do with, and I had to fight the laughter that tried to escape.

The queen, whom I could swear was hiding a smile herself, clapped her hands. “As promised, the winner not only wins the privilege of Dead End’s continued participation in the Trials, but a personal gift for you.”

With that, she nodded to one of her guards, who unwrapped silk fabric that covered a golden arrow. He then bowed to Mrs. Frost and handed it to her.

“I am honored,” our champion said, grinning from ear to ear.

I sighed with relief that she’d remembered my instructions never to say thank you to a Fae. They viewed it as incurring obligation.

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