Page 34 of Pippa of Lauramore
“It was your kill,” Archer says. “I helped, but you dealt the last blow.”
We all stare at the boar, and an uncomfortable, awkward silence falls over our party. My exuberance fizzles away.
“How do I get it back?” Galinor asks.
“We’ll have to drag it to your camp. Where’s your fabric pull?”
Galinor grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “I don’t have one on me.”
Archer nods, saying nothing, and retrieves one from his own pack.
“With any luck, we’ll find a waspnettle patch on the way back,” I tell Galinor brightly.
He’s angry with himself, and he won’t meet my eyes. He stalks around the other side of the boar and helps Archer slip the fabric under the beast.
I sigh as I watch them. This isn’t how I imagined the day would go.
CHAPTER 8
For once, Galinor is prepared. He has his gauntlets with him and is able to search the waspnettle without being stung. The sun lowers at an alarming rate. Galinor’s already been looking through the patch without any luck for nearly half an hour. Archer and I watch, but neither of us ventures in. Galinor is better dressed for retrieving this particular item.
I glance at Archer. He’s frowning at the horizon. We both know we should have set back for the palace long before now, but I don’t want to leave until I know Galinor has the inger egg.
“I’ve found one!” he calls from the middle of the thicket. He holds up a green speckled egg, and I squeal, elated.
Archer sighs, relieved we can leave.
Galinor makes his way back to us, batting at the wasps hovering near his face. The waspnettle is thick, and the ground is uneven. The prince stumbles a few times, and I gasp every time, thinking he’ll fall. He carries the smallegg in the palm of his steel-covered hand, holding it like it’s precious—which it is.
“How many items do you think Lionel has?” I ask Archer, keeping quiet so Galinor won’t overhear.
Archer thinks about it before he answers. “I don’t think the question with Lionel is how many items he will retrieve, but rather, how soon will he have them all.”
I roll my shoulders, feeling stiff. “And Rigel?”
“I know nothing of Rigel, but those from Errinton are known for their…resourcefulness.”
I squirm, feeling the weight of the competition. “Should we go for the Eldentimber resin? It’s not yet dark.”
It’s the second day. Lionel may already be back at the palace with all his items. Unlike Galinor, Lionel is very familiar with Lauramore. I don’t doubt Percival chose the collection with him in mind.
“Not tonight, Pippa. If you are discovered, Galinor will be disqualified.”
I want to argue, but Archer is right. The stakes are too high. Galinor reaches us, and for the first time today, my prince looks confident.
“You did well,” I say, beaming at him.
He takes the egg to his horse and fumbles to open the saddlebag with his gauntlets still on.
I step forward, nervous. “Careful not to drop the—oh no!” I shriek in horror.
When he tries to save the egg from its perilous drop, Galinor crushes it in his hand. Runny white and dark yellow yoke run through his fingers. My sweet, kind prince looks about ready to murder something.
“It’s all right,” I say, rushing to him.
“It’s not all right,” he snaps. His face falls, and he bows his head. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
I wish he would stop treating me as if I am as fragile as that egg. My fingers wrap around his chin, and I jerk his face back up. “Galinor, we’ll find another.”
