Page 36 of Trial of Thorns
“It really is in your best interest to keep your body as healthy and fit as possible,” my mother says, agreeing with my father in a more reasonable manner. “You know how those hallucinogens affect your body with so little time between trials.” My mother speaks low and smooth, quiet and calm enough the other courts don’t stop to listen. When my father badgers me they all turn to watch and snigger under their breaths.
I’m over it, and I’ve learned to ignore it entirely.
“There are emotional and social aspects to these trials far beyond physical. I’m prepared. I am strong. One night of drunken debauchery will not cost me the title. That much, I promise you.”
My mother gives a low nod, almost a bow, and her black hair falls forward. “As long as you keep it to one night.” She studies me.
“Of course.”
And that’s the truth. I had intended to eat and head immediately back to sleep for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll wake for a workout and a long hot bath and take it easy until the ball.
“No more drinking until at least after the next trial.” I hold my fist over my chest in promise.
My mother smiles, and my father sneers. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I roll my eyes. It’s in two days. I’m pretty sure I can withhold drinking until then. Even the ball won’t be that much of a temptation. As a champion, I’ll be expected to show up for an hour or so then allowed to come and go as I please. I fully intend to take advantage of that.
After a polite meal, the room packed with only reigning courts, Brielle comes to sit beside me. “Have you heard about the next challenge?” she whispers.
“Not a word. Have you?”
“Yes. Meet me in the common room in an hour, and we’ll talk about it.”
I nod, and she laughs giddily like I’ve just told the funniest joke. She places her hands on my forearm—a fairly intimate gesture in such company. I eye it suspiciously.
My mother notices, her stare settles on the delicate hand resting on my arm. My father glares at me.
Brielle winks, then shuffles off to socialize elsewhere.
My father approaches, leaning low to whisper. “Well played,” he says with enough acid that I wince.
Brielle is strong—though she could use more courage out on the field—and influential in her court. If she doesn’t marry another heir, she very well may end up queen of her own court. Her mated pair is dead, which means she is open and free for anyone. Whomever she marries will have quite a bit of power.
If she were to marry me, my father would have no choice but to concede some of his ruling power or risk alienating a massively powerful court.
That’s not something I’ve ever considered. Something about a romantic relationship with my dead brother’s betrothed seems... unnatural. But politically, it makes a lot of sense. Brielle is smart enough to know what she’s doing, so I should be grateful, but I worry that isn’t her only motive. I’ve seen the looks she gives me. Of course, she gives the same to Rook, so maybe it’s just her positioning herself, but even so, I can’t help but entertain the unnerving idea that she desires me.
***
IWANDER UP TO THEchampion’s common room on the fifth floor of the Flicker estate around the time Brielle said to meet. The hall is quiet except for a small human female in strange clothing that freezes when she sees me.
I smile awkwardly, and she scampers off. Weird creatures.
The fire flickers softly as I enter the common room. Both Rook and Brielle are waiting for me, drinks in hand.
“There you are!” Brielle says dramatically, and I raise my eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if something had kept you behind.”
“You said an hour. It’s been fifty-five minutes.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well we’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“If you meant forty-five minutes, then next time, tell me forty-five.”
She grimaces, and I wink in her direction—if only to deflect her annoyance. In truth, I waited as long as I could to come up, just in case she was alone when I entered. I still have a lot to wrap my mind around.
If her spectacle at dinner today was more than just trolling my father, I need to figure out how I feel about it.
Logically, it’s a win-win. She’s beautiful, certainly. And being with her would greatly strengthen my resume in the fae world, but there is still something about it that causes my skin to crawl. Could I love her? Could I be with her? I don’t know.
