Page 102 of Pippa of Lauramore
I stand, cheering for him with the others. I’m afraid he’s about to pass out.
“They must have used those few moments to switch,” I say, keeping my voice low so only Leonora can hear me. Then I hug her, the weight of the realization hitting me. “He’s awake!”
Relieved tears prick my eyes.
Lionel stares at him in disbelief, and then, like a viper striking, he meets my eyes. The prince sneers at me—somehow he knows I’ve interfered once again.
I look away, cheering for Galinor and trying to ignore Lionel.
There will beno celebratory feast for Galinor. As far as everyone knows, he was injured by Rigel in the last joust—nothing life threatening, but Clarion declared he needed rest before the final competition tomorrow.
Instead of basking in the light of his—or Archer’s—victory, Galinor is in Yuven’s quarters, sleeping off the poison. Archer and I are with him. My brothers, Leonora, and Marigold are in the hall enjoying dinner with the others. I will join them soon.
I have an announcement to make.
It will be easier without Archer and Galinor there, and I hope Archer doesn’t try to follow me.
“He is recovering,” I hear Yuven say in hushed tones. “But he won’t be able to compete tomorrow.”
I had suspected as much, but it’s hard to hear.
“I’ll fight,” Archer answers.
I turn, joining the conversation. “No, Archer. It’s too dangerous. What if someone realizes?”
He comes to me, his face solemn, and sets his hand on my shoulder. “I did it today.”
Yuven, looking uncomfortable, disappears into the hall.
I shake my head. “You were almost found out.”
His thumb brushes my neck, and his fingers gently knead away the tension. “There is no other option, Pippa. Rigel and Lionel placed today. As of right now, Galinor is at seventeen points. Lionel is at fourteen. If he places tomorrow, he will win the tournament.”
And I’m about to hand him two more points. I turn away from Archer and brace my hand on the worktable, steadying my weary body while I try to think of a way out of this.
“Where does Rigel rank?” I ask, cringing at the thought even if he is the lesser of two evils.
“He has eleven, and he is the next closest. For him to win, Lionel can’t place at all tomorrow.”
“I don’t want him to win.”
Archer moves closer. His hand finds my hair, and he twirls it in his fingers. I can’t bear to look at him, not knowing in a few minutes I will break my promise. I don’t turn around.
“You need me,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. His arms wrap around my middle, and he pulls me against him, resting his chin on my shoulder.
I close my eyes. “I’ve always needed you. I don’t?—”
“Shhh,” he says. “We won’t think of it now.”
I lay my head back, resting it in the crook of his neck. Time passes, but neither he nor I move. I feel safe tucked against him like this. Just us—almost like it was before we admitted there was more between us, but better. Because there is more.
“I never thought I would get the chance to fight for you, Pippa,” he says softly. I can hear the smile in hisvoice. “Know that as you watch me tomorrow, I’m not fighting for Galinor—I’m fighting for you.”
I turn my head, and our eyes meet. His hair is disheveled, and he’s gone so many days without shaving that the stubble is thick on his jaw. It scratches my neck, but I don’t move away. Tentative at first, I run a hand through his hair. It’s soft, and I like the way it feels between my fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch.
Now.
Tell him now.
