Page 35 of Pippa of Lauramore
“It was the only one in the nest.” His voice is tired.
I take him by his shoulders and stand on my tiptoes. “We’ll find one tomorrow. It won’t take long.”
“Pippa—”
“No! You will not give up. You will not.”
He nods. “Do you really believe I can do this?”
It doesn’t matter what I believe. Galinor must do it, so he will.
“You will not fail,” I assure him.
I won’t allow it.
“Don’t say it, Archer.”
I’m weary and more disheartened by the broken inger egg than I wanted Galinor to know.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, Princess,” Archer says, unusually respectful.
I glance at him. He’s been quiet since we parted ways with Galinor, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking, though I am certain he believes I put my trust in the wrong prince.
I feel so guilty at my thoughts, I think I might cry. Galinor is kind and strong, and I am cruel to doubt him. The scavenger hunt isn’t his event, that’s all. The tournamentis designed to test a man in many ways. He’ll do better with the joust. From what my brothers have said, he’ll excel at the hand-to-hand event.
But what about the archery tournament? Or the dragon?
I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away.
“What is it?” Archer asks.
“I’m very tired.”
Willowisp plods under me as if she also feels the day was too long. Right now, the setting sun shines golden on her mane and body. It will be dark before we reach the palace.
I will be found out. Galinor will be disqualified. I will marry Lionel.
“Stop,” Archer says sharply, startling me out of my thoughts. “You’re brooding. The tournament isn’t over yet—thescavenger huntisn’t even over yet.”
“Do you think he can win?” I ask, voicing my fears. Saying them out loud makes them more real, and panic rises in my chest.
“You are unfair to him, Pippa. Give him a chance.” He pauses. “You are also unfair to the other twenty-seven men you never discuss. Just because none of them looks like Galinor doesn’t mean they won’t win. The chances are high it won’t be Lionel, Rigel, or Galinor.”
“You think I should stop meddling?”
He rolls his eyes. “I believe I’ve been saying that from the beginning.”
“Then why do you help me?” I’m watching him, waiting for his answer.
His eyes flick to mine. “Because you asked me.”
I laugh. “I wish you could compete in the tournament, Archer. Then I would have no doubt who the victor would be.”
Too late, I realize what I just said. I turn to him, my mouth working as I try to find a way to amend my words.
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “I fight for you, and then you choose whomever you wish to marry? Wouldn’t that put an interesting spin on the tournament?”
I scowl at him, irritated for no reason. “And why should it be like that? If you were to win such a hypothetical tournament, you should have the princess. That’s how it works.”
