When I entered the courtyard in a pink (and dry) silk gown and leather flats, the chatter immediately hushed and everyone in the crowd turned to look at me. Princes, their doting parents, the various aos sidhe servants. I stopped and gulped.
“You’ll be fine,” whispered Grenie from his place on my shoulder, hidden in my curls.
I nodded and marched over to join my parents who broke off from the nobles they were chatting with to meet me. My mother walked awfully briskly for someone eight months pregnant. Annoyance gave her speed.
“Tuala,” hissed my mother in a low voice. “Where have you been?” She picked a green strand of pond grass out of my black curls. “And what have you been doing?”
“Well...” I started.
“And where is the croquembouche?” asked my father in his Parisian accent. “You were almost finished when I stopped in to see you earlier.”
“A story for another time,” I said brightly. “Shouldn’t we start the competition?”
My mother sighed and Papa gave me a look that said we’d talk about this later.
We walked together to the dais, shaded under a silk canopy. I scanned the crowd as we went, looking through the sea of unfamiliar faces for my old friend, Naven. Last time I’d seen him, I’d been sixteen. My family had spent the summer at the Seelie Court, as they did every few years. They preferred the quiet of our home at the Lily Court, but the King liked to keep a close eye on his nobles. Naven had danced with me at the Beltane Ball. One dance, but I had been thinking about it for two years.
My heart sank when I didn’t see his blond head anywhere. It wasn’t that I thought he was my true love. I wasn’t sure I could love someone who liked to tease that he had changed my diapers—an unlikely story, as he was only three years older than me—but still, a friend in all this would be nice.
I poked the little frog on my shoulder.
“It’s time,” I whispered to him. “Keep a lookout for me.”
Grenie nodded, and I turned to face the crowd. Everyone hushed expectantly. I glanced up at Papa, and he gave me a reassuring smile.
“Welcome to the Lily Court,” I said, projecting my voice over the crowd as I had been taught by my tutors. “Thank you for answering our call to this rather...unusual event.”
I took a breath. “I am Princess Tuala, heir to the Lily Court. This competition is to choose a suitable husband and future co-ruler of our princedom. There will be three trials. After each trial is judged, one prince will be chosen as a winner, and half of the contestants will be eliminated. Those who are not chosen may return home or stay on to observe the rest of the competition and enjoy our hospitality. The choice is yours. The champion of each trial will win a date with me, so we can get to know each other better, and a...” I hesitated and my mother patted my arm. She had insisted on this last part. Mother said there was only one way to know for sure, and it wasn’t a list of pros and cons. “A kiss,” I finished, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“And after all three trials?” asked a curly-haired prince from the crowd. “Is the winner of the final trial the winner over all?”
“Say yes,” whispered my mother.
“We shall see,” I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. My mother sighed. I ignored her. “The goal is not just to win at any cost. The competition is a way for us to get to know each other better.” There was no way I’d leave my fate solely in the hands of a game. I needed to observe the princes and collect as much data as possible to make an informed decision. “The winner will be announced at the ball next week. Are there any other questions?”
The crowd started murmuring, then a gorgeously dressed woman—doubtless a royal mother—asked, “When does the first challenge begin?”
“Immediately,” I began.
The murmuring increased, and my mother clapped her hands together once, loudly. The crowd hushed and she gave me an encouraging nod.
“Immediately, after introductions,” I finished. Ugh, introductions. I didn’t love meeting new people under normal circumstances. And these were far from normal.
As the princes and their parents lined up, I adjusted my hair. Grenie croaked in protest, and I pulled a curl off his face.
“Any help you could offer would be greatly appreciated, frog,” I whispered.
The little green frog leaned forward to observe the first prince in line.
“Prince Declan, of the Hawthorn Court,” he whispered. “His mother is a bit...intense...but he’s a good sort. He’s in Crown Prince Tiernan’s fianna.”
“He’s in a warband?” I looked at the tall, shaggy-haired prince dubiously as his mother marched him up to meet me.
“He is. Although it’s possible he joined just to escape his mother.”
“What are you muttering about?” hissed my mother. “This is not the time!”
I ignored her, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat as Prince Declan was shoved toward the dais.
“Prince Declan.” I curtsied smoothly.
“Princess Tuala.” He bowed.
“I hear you’re a warrior in Prince Tiernan’s fianna?”
“I am.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Please don’t send me home in the first round. I’ll never hear the end of it from Tiernan and the others. Saoirse’s been teasing me for the past two months about coming in the first place.”
I smothered a laugh behind my hand. “I hope you’re a good cook then.”
Declan looked confused as his mother shuffled him off, another prince taking his place.
Grenie knew most of the Seelie princes, and it was much easier to make small talk with his whispered comments about their courts and families as they approached. We hadn’t invited any Unseelie princes—can you imagine?—but six of the twenty princes came from beyond Tír na nÓg, their clothing and appearance proved that they were from realms I had only ever visited in books. I was a bit unnerved to think that anyone would travel so far for the chance to win my hand, even if they had all arrived through the Lily Gate.
The last prince was Seelie, and Grenie whispered, “Aodhan, Willow Court.” But offered no additional information. The Willow Court was located down near the Seelie capital, and I was surprised Grenie had nothing else to tell me. He had known juicy gossip about all the other Seelie princes. Prince Aodhan came alone, although doubtless he had servants around somewhere.
“Princess Tuala, I’m so happy to meet you.” Aodhan reached for my hand and kissed it with a bow. The prince was tall, even for one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. His golden-brown hair swept past his shoulders, and his skin was tanned from the summer sun.
“Um, thank you?” I was flustered by the courtly kiss, and Aodhan gave me a knowing smirk as he rose. He held my hand for a beat longer, before I recovered myself and pulled it back. “Good luck in the competition.” I had said that to all the princes, but I found I actually meant it this time.
“Thank you, princess.” He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “And Tuala?”
“Mmm hmm?” I pinched my arm. This was ridiculous.
“I do intend to win.” Aodhan winked, then walked away.
I sighed and Grenie croaked in annoyance.
“You don’t like him?” My pulse was racing. That one was getting bonus points for…I wasn’t sure what. Did I have a category for winking?
“I’m apparently much less prone to swooning than you,” grumbled the frog.
“I wonder where Naven is.” I stood up on my tiptoes to scan the crowd. My parents had left me to mingle with the other nobles again. “He responded to the invitation. He should be here.”
“Croak,” said the frog.
“It was rhetorical,” I whispered. “I know you don’t know where he is.”
“Your highness,” came a gravelly voice from beside me. I looked down to see a brownie. The knee-high man was dressed in the pressed linen and wool of a castle servant. I recognized him from my time at the Juniper Court. The brownie held out a silver tray in his mottled brown hands. A folded piece of paper with a wax seal rested on the tray. “From Prince Naven.”
“Why isn’t he here himself, Forlagh?” I demanded.
Forlagh looked uncomfortable as he avoided meeting my eyes. “I’m sure I can’t say, your highness. Please just read the letter.”
I sighed and picked up the letter, breaking the wax seal of the Juniper Court. My suspicion grew. The flowery hand it was written in was not what I remembered from Naven’s occasional letters. But he hadn’t written to me in two years. People could change, I supposed.
Dear Tuala,
I was honoured to be invited to your competition, even if I have to admit that it’s a bit of a strange way to choose a husband (I know, I know, you’ve told me all about the christening prophecy. But still.)
That sounded more like the Naven I remembered.
I was looking forward to seeing you again, but due to events I...cannot explain, I am unable to present myself to you today.
My heart sunk. He really hadn’t come.
However, I assure you I am here at the Lily Court, and will be competing for your hand. I hope to be able to explain myself soon.
Your friend,
Naven.
PS. Feel free to ask Forlagh any question you might have. Forlagh loves questions.
I folded the paper back up. “He ‘hopes to explain himself soon’? What is that supposed to mean?” I brandished the letter at the brownie. “Forlagh! What does this even mean? A note? Why is he not here himself?”
“Well...your highness...”
“Invisibility spell?”
“Umm...” Forlagh shifted uncomfortably.
“Did he grow a donkey’s head?”
“Not exactly...”
“Infectious disease?”
“Not as such...”
“You may go.” I sighed.
“Thank you, your highness.” The brownie scampered off before I could accost him with any more guesses.
“Forlagh does not love questions,” I murmured to myself.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Grenie said. “He seemed pretty knowledgeable. You should think of some more theories for him.”
I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. “No more theories, my friend. It’s time.”
“Time?”
I climbed back up to the dais and clapped my hands in an imitation of my mother. The crowd quieted.
“It is time for the first challenge to begin!”