Ellie nodded. “A little.” And was that… Did I sense gratitude in her tone, or after two hundred years was my hearing beginning to fail me?
It gave me an idea.
I let my arm loosen, and when she frantically grasped to keep hold of me, I snaked my fingers down the bare skin of her forearm and interlocked my fingers with hers. “I am quite experienced in calming a woman’s nerves.”
The scoff she let out this time was a tad too breathy to be genuine. “And there you go again. You can’t help yourself, can you?”
I turned to face her, then used her death grip on my hand to draw her closer. Her eyes widened, and when I leaned in, her breath hitched. “Not around you, I can’t.”
Had I not known better from all those dreadfully dull wielding classes my father pressured me to take as a child, I might have said my plan worked like magic.
Ellie’s back stiffened, forcing her to stand taller. “You’re trying to distract me.”
A surprising lack of accusation in her voice. Only wariness. Noted.
“Is it working?” I asked, still in that intentionally seductive whisper.
“Yes, actually,” she said, and I tried to ignore the way my heart leapt at her admission. Which ended up being for the best, because she immediately pulled away and said, “Disgust is a much more potent emotion than fear.”
I couldn’t stifle the annoyance that perhaps my idea had worked a bit too well.
Before I could come up with a snarky retort, my father’s voice ripped my attention from our little game and back to the arena. “Prince Evander and his betrothed”—why couldn’t he just say her name?—“are to face a series of three obstacles, each of which will provide the couple an opportunity to prove their ability to work together. The Kingdom of Dwellen does not take marriage bonds of its future leaders lightly, and thus these Trials have been crafted to ensure that any future marriage alliance will benefit not only the couple, but also the citizens of Dwellen.”
Applause and screams erupted from the crowd. How many of them had placed bets on whether Ellie would plummet to her death?
Ellie snapped her neck toward me. “Do you die if you fall from this height?”
I ventured a glance downward. “Likely not.”
My father spoke again. “The rules to this trial are simple. The couple must make it through these three obstacles without falling or being otherwise impaled by iron…”
It took me a moment to realize it was back. The trembling. Rattling the platform and buzzing underneath my feet.
I turned to Ellie, whose brown eyes had gone wide, sending me right back to the floor of the breakfast room, holding her in my arms and hoping to the Fates she wasn’t dead.
“Are you okay?”
I wasn’t sure she could hear me over the sound of my father’s voice.
She just stared.
My father droned on. “The first obstacle, the couple may attempt as they are. We will address further rules should they conquer the first. The couple must make it to the next platform without falling.”
As if on cue, sunlight glinted across the razor edge of the lengthy prism that acted as a bridge to the next platform.
“Any tightroping experience around your belt, my impressive betrothed?” I asked.
She scowled. “You know good and well how to get past this.”
“Oh, do I?”
“It’s a fae competition. I’ve read about them,” she said, her voice eerily impassive considering how I’d thought our conversation had been heading in a pleasant direction.
She was right. This obstacle was fairly simple. All we had to do was lock arms and walk on either side of the prism—the smooth portions. Our respective weights would serve as a counterbalance and keep us from plummeting down the sharp slope.
“Ah, well, since you already know how to play, this should be simple then,” I said, offering both my hands. She crossed her arms rather than taking them.
“No.”
My fingers twitched, begging to let me scrape them down my face. “If it’s the height you’re worried about, I assure you, you won’t be tempted to look down. Not when my face will be directly in front of your vision the entire time.”
Again, I reached for her hands, but she crossed her arms and pulled away.
Dread coiled in my gut. “We don’t get to say no to this, Ellie.”
Even as the words escaped my mouth, she gripped her throat. Not like yesterday, when the effects of rejecting the bargain had been sudden. Fae curses were tricky like that, as if they each had a dose of sentience about them, someone behind the veil making a judgment call.
Saying no to my help must not have been as grievous an error as refusing to do the Trials at all. For now, she was still breathing. Still, if Ellie didn’t step off this platform soon…
“You’ll drop me,” she whispered.
There was no defiance in her face. No fury in her pretty brown eyes. Just fear.
Fear of me.
Something withered in my gut.
“Why would I do that?”
