I was surprised yet relieved to see Petal come into the room. She had a fresh smock and a scarf around her neck. From the strong musky perfume, I could tell it was a gift from Esmera. From her gesturing, I gathered that she’d snuck back into the castle. I tried to make her leave but it did no good. A finger pointed at her heart, then dragged across her neck, and then aimed at me.
“I don’t want anyone to die for me, Petal.”
She had brought Esmera’s lavender dress with her, new boots, and a knife, all a part of Griffin’s plan. He should be at Jori’s door, telling him that Raleigh arranged for him to speak to me, and that he convinced me to have a change of heart. That I was moved to his mother’s quarters to sleep in, heavily guarded of course, and that at this moment I was being washed and clothed to look perfect for my wedding, which was to take place after the final match.
And that Griffin’s wedding to Esmera would happen directly after. Neither nuptials would take place so long as I could break the chains binding Rendicryss.
I wished to hear her all night, but she was quiet. Not even a whimper carried on the wind.
The queen’s rooms in the tower were dusty, the last of Umbert’s wives having died years ago. I didn’t light a fire. It would’ve drawn too much attention. I slept curled up in a ball between the bed and the wall, wrapped in musty blankets. When morning broke, I saw the room was draped in red. From the curtains to the linens, the rugs and tapestries, all embroidered with creeping roses. It felt empty, void of not only life but memories. There was nothing, not even a dress in the wardrobe to say that someone once lived here.
Thirty minutes later, Petal was weaving small purple flowers into the curls in my hair when his stern knock was heard, and he walked in uninvited. Five guards were with him.
I shoved Petal behind the screen and stood to greet him, smoothing down the lavender pleats.
“Maggie.” Jori said my name as if it were an order. His fair hair was slicked back. His normally soft brown eyes were harder, taking prominence on his face, making him look like an angry owl. He wore all leather, with swords crossed on his back. He looked like a warrior. A calculated move so that he appeared strong enough to lead when he revealed to the people later today that their king was dead.
I approached him with caution, the snake in the grass Xavier accused me of being. “Sire.” I curtsied.
Jori nodded. Guards rushed me, throwing me down, binding my hands behind my back at elbow and wrist, as Moldark had done yesterday. When they were finished, they left me on my knees.
The guard handed him the key to my cuffs.
“I don’t understand. I thought—”
Jori laughed at me. “Suddenly you’re ready to take on your destiny? Do I look like a fool? Griffin may be so bewitched by you that he believes every word you say, but I am not. You can be a slave to me as easily as a wife.” He bent over, dangling the key in front of my face, then put it in the pocket of his tunic. He nodded again, and I was hoisted to my feet.
“Today, you will make sure your dragon kills Malcolm,” he continued.
“How can I do that with my hands tied behind my back?”
“You don’t require your hands to speak to her. Armel told me.”
“Armel was wrong.” My heart pounded so hard I worried he would hear. Our plan would never work if my hands were bound this way.
He stared at me longer than necessary, then waved his hand. A guard brought him a long black cloak. He wrapped it around my shoulders, clasping it at my neckline, letting his fingers linger. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“This will hide your chains. We will ride now to the arena in a carriage, for our safety, of course. On the balcony, I will announce my father’s death. The last match will go on, during which Malcolm will die. Afterward, Maggie of Nowhere, you will swear your loyalty to me, and then we shall be wed for all to see. Am I clear?”
“Yes.”
He patted my cheek harder than necessary. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sire.”
Esmera and Sybil were in the carriage when the guards carried me in. Both draped in black as well, they looked like they’d slept better than I had. Beneath they wore simple yellow frocks. Esmera’s blonde locks were woven into tight braids, pulling the hair off her face. Sybil’s red mane was tied in a ponytail at the base of her neck. Retrained hair, loose-fitting clothes—they were armed and, by the looks of it, prepared to fight.
“Why are you hunched over like that?” Sybil asked me.
She lifted my cloak and saw my hands were bound behind my back. She paled with worry, letting go of the wool as Jori climbed in beside me.
Esmera and Sybil exchanged nervous glances with each other, and then with me. The plan was for me to cut Rendicryss’s chains by wielding moonlight, which I couldn’t do with my hands cuffed behind my back.
We would have to find another way to set her free. My only hope was that we would see Griffin in the tunnel before the match. If I couldn’t get word to him, then hopefully Esmera or Sybil could.
Jori set a hand on my knee. “Is there something wrong, Maggie? Why do you stare at Sybil and Esmera so?”
“I thought we’d be riding alone.” My glare shifted from Esmera to Sybil. “I do not wish to look at her, not on my wedding day.”
I tried to shift away from Jori, force his hand to fall off my knee, but his fingers tightened.
Esmera glowered. “The ride will be over soon enough, and then I will have your champion to myself.”
“And I your prince.”
Sybil cleared her throat, her stare flipping between us as if we had lost our minds.
Jori ignored us, his mind and his attentions straight ahead, on the arena.
The carriage stopped and the door opened. I started to climb down but Jori pushed me aside to go first. Then he shut the door.
I leaned forward to whisper in Sybil’s ear. “Griffin and Malcolm need to find another way to set Rendicryss free. Can you get word?”
“And how exactly will I be able to do that?” Sybil asked.
Sunshine broke through the clouds as the door cracked again.
“Let’s go.” Jori grabbed the fabric of the cloak at my shoulder, yanking me out. The bridge at the Top was empty. With the volume of noise coming out of the arena, it sounded like the people were already seated, and had been for some time.
Esmera and Sybil flanked me as we padded across. Jori walked ahead with several guards. In the tunnel, Griffin and Malcolm waited to enter the ring. Neither wore much armor, and neither was armed. I kept my eyes trained on Jori, too afraid to even glance at Griffin, for fear I might crack. How were we in this place—two nobodies from nowhere, both under the thumb of the power-hungry prince—both of our lives hanging in the balance?
The guards ushered me into the stairwell before the others. I heard Esmera and Sybil ask to speak with their brother, wishing him luck. Jori spoke to Griffin, but I couldn’t hear what he said. The guards prodded me to start climbing. I tried to catch Griffin’s glance, but he never looked up before the door to the stairwell shut.
At the top of the stairs, I was told to wait for Jori. I stopped and closed my eyes, praying to the moon that my dragon would be freed and we would live to see nightfall, and her in all her glory. I never believed in prayer, but with all else stripped away, it was all that was left. That, and a present Petal had left in my boot.