Dawn came too early, grey sunlight creeping across the room to challenge the dying embers in the grate. Evelina stirred, lethargic beneath a strange contentment that spread through her limbs and made them seem heavy. Slowly, she blinked awake, found herself nestled in the gentle embrace of a slender arm, and suddenly froze. Memories of last night came crashing down and she jerked upright, clutching white-knuckled at the covers to hide her nakedness. When had they made it to the bed?
Beside her, Isabeau shifted, lifting one arm above her head as she sighed in her sleep, and Evelina stared down at the flesh exposed by the movement. In the soft lighting, the curves and peaks of her stretched like smooth silk, and the Queen swallowed, helpless to tear her gaze away.
Oh, gods… what had she done?
Gingerly, she extricated herself from the covers, slipped free of the bed, and gathered up her fallen dress. Thank Malevelyn it was a simple gown, one that relied on the natural shape of her body rather than corsets and tight lacings. As quickly as she could without excessive noise, she slipped it on, snatched up her discarded shoes, and escaped before the Lady woke.
Mercifully, she encountered no one on her way back to her own apartments – a godsend provided by the sheer infancy of the hour – and was reassured to pass her aunt's closed door as well. Most likely, Natalia had indulged in a little love, and a lot of wine, last night, and hadn't even missed her. Well, she hoped, anyway.
Only once she'd reached the safety of her private chamber, dropped the bolts on the door, and collapsed onto the edge of her own bed, did she dare to breathe again. Inexplicably, tears welled, questing slow trails down her cheeks as she stared miserably at the brightening world beyond her window. In the distance, the dust cloud hung heavy, ominous, and accusing.
"Hells, Evelina," she sighed, "That was a whole new level of stupid."
She sat for a little longer, trapped by melancholy, but at last the sun gained true strength in the sky beyond and the sounds of the wakening palace filtered upward on the breeze. With an effort, she got up, made her way slowly to the washroom, and adjusted the crystals for a piping hot shower. The rhythmic heat helped to wash away the dregs of her unwieldy emotions, and at last she emerged, refreshed, and determined to regain her footing.
Selecting a dark-green dress with a forbidding corset and spiked standing collar, she called for her chambermaid to help her prepare.
"I'll wear my hair up today, Renna," she said to the girl, as she finally stood back, victorious, from the war on the stiff-spined dress. "Take it clear of the collar, please."
"As it please, Majesty," Renna said, coming forth with an arsenal of brushes and pins.
At last, she was ready, and by the time Natalia eventually knocked on her door, her emotions were safely buried beneath the armour of her intimidating dress.
Natalia whistled as she caught sight of her. "Well, this is an entirely different woman than the timid girl I accompanied last night. Did something happen?"
"Not at all," Evelina replied smoothly, "I'm simply ready to save my Kingdom." She drew herself upright and offered her arm. "Shall we?"
Natalia raised an eyebrow but accepted, and Renna scurried to hold the door open for them.
The Queen and her aunt strolled down from the palace, meandering through gardens where the wild was tamed just enough to fully exploit its natural beauty, and then followed the cobbled pathway towards the Tourney Grounds. Evelina rolled her shoulders against the comforting warmth of the morning sun behind her, and let deep breaths of the fresh day fill her soul. She could do this, she decided. She would. And there would be no more unwarranted midnight encounters with beautiful women. The stress of three years at war, coupled with the added weight of the looming contest for her hand, had pushed her to an insane moment of escapism, that was all. And, on the unlikely chance that her indiscretions ever came to light, she would deny them. After all, who would dare to question a Queen?
Feeling steady and strong, she allowed her aunt to lead her up into the Royal Box midway along the stands that ran the length of the arena, and settled herself graciously upon the small Throne placed there for her comfort. Natalia took the seat on her left, as was her habit, and then attendant ladies of high standing filed in to bear witness to the day's events as well. Evelina paid them no mind, watching the Scurries setting up extra safety rails beyond, and wondering who would ride first.
At last, the box was full, except for the seat on Evelina's right, and then a Lady curtseyed at the edge of her vision before sitting down to fill it.
"Good morning, Your Majesty."
Evelina felt her heart stop, caught by the dulcet tones of the single voice she dearly wished not to hear this morning.
"I hope you don't mind," Natalia said, leaning over to murmur in her ear, "But I invited Lady Isabeau to sit with us. Royalty should not be subjected to the gossiping of the lesser Houses, to be sure."
"Why would I mind?" Evelina snapped, stiffening in her seat. She turned frosty eyes on Isabeau. "Good morning, Lady Isabeau. So kind of you to join us."
Isabeau graced her a polite smile. "Of course, Your Majesty. I do hope my brother fares well today."
"Oh, I'm sure he will," Natalia smiled back when Evelina seemed unlikely to reply. "It will be an interesting Tourney."
Isabeau's eyes lingered for a moment on the stubborn set of Evelina's jaw. "So it will."
She sat back, turning her attention to the arena, and Evelina kept her gaze fixed forward as the fanfare announced the start. Seventeen riders galloped in on snorting horses, looping an arc around the arena's perimeter, and each bore a colourful pennant with the ensign of their House. Evelina picked out a couple of interest – the crossed reeds of Marshside, the rampant bull of East Plain, the wheat sheaf and sickle of Ballencia, and the crystal arrow of Silver Peak. Any of the four of those Houses would be extremely useful to her cause, and she eyed each man critically as they rode past. Redgar came first, followed by Sir Maxan of East Plain and Lord Geddrick of Ballencia, and then, finally, Lucian.
Evelina had to admit, the prince was magnificent in his armour, sitting calm and steady in the saddle as his steed danced sideways. He had an effortless poise unmatched by any of the others, and a small part of her hoped that he would win. Truly, he was a fine man, and a worthy match. And, if he won, it would afford her the opportunity to see more of Isabeau.
Which was entirely not the point.
She reined in her thoughts, picturing the armies of Lucian's homeland instead – the brave warriors that would ride with him to slay her enemies. As the Kingdom paired to the Witchkin's Order of Fire, it was said that Silver Peak's soldiers rode into battle upon karkadann, rather than horses. The cavalry beasts were a gift, from the Firekin; flesh-eating desert unicorns that would make short work of the creatures threatening her borders. She fisted her hands as she pictured the carnage – she'd like to see that. Three years of lost lives and ravaged lands had been long enough.
With that motivation held tight between her teeth, she gave the prince her full attention as the others rode out and left him to tackle the first trial. The gates swung closed, and then Lucian was alone in the arena. He rode across to the Royal Box, unclipped his pennant from the tip of his lance, and hung it on the railing before the Queen. Then, he turned his back, rolled his shoulders, and settled his lance. Opposite, a rusted gate began to inch upward, opening with slow menace. From behind it came an unearthly howl.
Before the gate was even half-open, something large rushed out in a whirl of black fur and vicious teeth, racing straight for Lucian.
"Natalia!" Evelina snarled, "What is the meaning of this? Who authorized bringing one of those damned grimhounds into my Kingdom!"
The two-headed, wolf-like beast, almost as large as Lucian's horse, flung itself at him. At the last moment, the stallion – a well-trained warhorse – pirouetted out of reach and galloped to the far side of the arena.
"I did," Natalia said calmly, "With the blessing of the Council. We need someone who can protect you – and this Kingdom – from those fiends. The first trial is to kill one."
"It's too much!" Evelina shot back, making to rise. But Natalia caught her with a steely hand upon her arm, and her amber eyes bored into the Queen's own.
"It is necessary, Evie. Rest assured, he was not caught unaware – each Champion was informed of the trials that awaited them before they agreed to participate."
Evelina sank back into her seat, horrified. Seventeen suitors… Why had they all come, knowing the stakes? Numb, she watched as Lucian's horse pranced on the spot, preparing for the touch of his spurs. The grimhound skidded to a halt, analysed its target for a moment, and then flung itself back the way it had come. At once, the prince's horse jumped forward beneath his command, and Lucian lowered his lance with grim determination. They raced towards each other, Lucian setting his shoulder for the impact, but at the last second the grimhound flung itself to the right, away from the prince's lance hand, and raked long claws down the stallion's exposed side as momentum carried it past. The horse unleashed a gut-wrenching whinny of pain and fear as it stumbled to a halt, and Lucian leapt from its back before it could fall. He caught its head up by the reins, turned it, and whacked it on the rump to send it tottering in the direction of the closest gate. The grimhound prowled an arc, both heads growling as they took the prince's measure, and seemed not to notice as handlers quickly rescued the stallion from the arena. A strange, bestial intelligence shone in the hound's four burning-green eyes, and it licked forked tongues across dripping jowls. Lucian cast his lance aside, ripping twin sabres from his back instead, and whirled the swords to readiness as he set his stance.
A deadly dance began, each lunge coming harder, each near-miss closer, until the arena sands started to spot red with blood from beast and man alike. The grimhound favoured a forepaw, Lucian his left shoulder. Teeth gnashed; swords swung. They broke apart, circled, each seeking an opening to finish the other. When they clashed again, Lucian lost his footing, and the beast spun for the kill. Evelina, white-knuckled, clutched at the closest solid thing – Isabeau's hand. The grimhound leapt with a wild howl, teeth bared, crashing down upon the prostrate man before he could hope to regain his feet, and Isabeau's free hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp. But the hound unleashed an ungodly howl, and twin metal spikes, crossing at the tips, protruded from its back. It shuddered, and fell still. With an immense shove, Lucian rolled the thing off him and staggered to his feet, hauling his sabres roughly out of the underside of its chest. He took a moment to steady himself, and then turned to the Queen's box and lifted his swords in triumph. The watching crowd exploded into thunderous applause and Scurries descended upon the arena to help clear the carnage away. The prince strode across to collect his banner from the railings, flipped a jaunty salute at the Queen, and made for the gate.
Heart thundering, Evelina finally realised her fingers were twined through Isabeau's and tore her hand free as if it were burned. She cleared her throat and turned away before Isabeau could say anything, rounding instead on her aunt.
"If I had known," she hissed, eyes flashing, "If I had known you had organised this…"
"You would have what?" Natalia challenged. "You were quite clear in what you sought from a consort – strength, courage, and an indomitable will in the face of the threat from the border. Lucian has proved that he has all three."
"Lucian is the best man here, and that beast nearly killed him!" Evelina shot back. "What of the others? Are you the one who will bear the news to their families when they lose their lives in my arena?"
"They will have died with honour, fighting for a Queen's hand," Natalia said. "And yes, it will be I who bears the news of any that fall. I have sworn to do it myself."
Evelina stared at her. "This… this is insanity. It's too dangerous – there are innumerable trials you could have chosen instead-"
"None of them would have the same result. We need a hero, Evelina – someone our beleaguered soldiers will follow into battle with renewed vigour, someone who can pull our kingdom back from the brink of extinction." She sat forward to catch the Queen's hand beneath her own and squeezed it tightly. "We need this, to survive. You know it, as well as I."
Evelina faltered, struggling to voice the deep unease that caught deep within her. "Yes, but… Nat… the grimhounds… so many may die if we continue."
"And we risk thousands more if we do not. The Champions are here of their own volition, Evie. Each of them is a strong warrior, capable and confident in their own abilities. Let them prove it."
Evelina pulled her hand away and set her mouth to a grim line. It was too late, now, anyway.
Natalia's face softened. "You don't have to watch."
"I do," Evelina hissed, staring stonily forward, "And I will. To the very last man."