A few days after Prince Dagan Greenfield arrived at the castle, Prince Bolt Leatum, of the Everfall Kingdom, joined them. He rode on a brown-scaled wyvern, with several pointy horns and a sharp-tipped tail. The wyverns walked around the castle with the other mystical creatures without causing any trouble.
On his first night, Bolt was introduced to Zoey. His eyes were different shades of brown, like autumn leaves, and his skin was dark like tree bark, and his hair was curly. His Waerie had remained behind in the Everfall Kingdom for reasons unknown to Zoey.
Prince Bolt was not nearly as charming or as talkative as Prince Dagan. He dined with them, and Zoey purposefully sat at the table next to Prince Dagan, instead of Caynin. She was still angry and realized she was as good at holding grudges as Caynin was. She was not his possession, and she did not need to sit next to him all the time. She was not glued to him.
Her pettiness did not seem to have any effect on Caynin. He spoke with Bolt as if he wasn’t even the slightest bit bothered by Zoey’s distant behavior. It was the first time in weeks that she did not sit next to him.
“Have you given the third trial any thought?” Caynin asked Bolt.
“Third trial?” Zoey immediately asked then realized that she had stepped into Caynin’s trap. He wanted her to talk to him, and this was his way of getting a reaction. He was incredibly clever and had a way of manipulating situations to his advantage.
“You know I can’t tell you that with the human listening.” Bolt kept his eyes on Caynin.
“I’m sure she’d pass regardless of what you tell her,” Rane mumbled.
Rane had been mean when Zoey first joined them for dinner. The queen had stopped attending dinner altogether. Tarragon had made it perfectly clear that he did not want to dine with a human. Dagan was the only one who was nice about it. Bolt, on the other hand, was somewhat awkward. Zoey felt he didn’t speak to her because he did not know what to say, not because he deliberately tried to exclude her.
“So, you are planning my final trial?” Zoey asked him.
“Yes,” he said. “Each prince plans one trial for you, so that each prince is responsible for granting you your wish – should you pass the trials.”
“Have you thought about your wish yet?” Caynin asked her.
These Fata weren’t her faerie godfathers. She wasn’t completing the trials to obtain a free wish; she was undergoing them to earn respect. However, she was not going to throw away her free wish. She would find something to use it on.
“No, I have not.”
What good thing could she wish for? She could wish to see her family one last time, but that would only confuse them. Could the princes turn her into Fata, so that she would not be considered weak anymore? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be one of them. Yes, they were gorgeous and strong, but they had such different morals.
“Where is the queen?” Bolt asked.
“She hasn’t been joining us for dinner lately,” Tarragon said.
“Are you feeling neglected?” Dagan asked.
“Don’t take it personally,” Caynin spoke over him. “The queen’s focus is on catching the Prenumbra. She’s trying to figure out how it opened a door to Earth and where this door is.”
Zoey could only imagine how hard that must be. She was trying to find an enemy she could not kill. What would she do if she found the Prenumbra? And if there was an open door to Erken, she had no way to close it. The only faeries, including the queen and Zoey, who knew about the Prenumbra’s return were sitting around this dinner table.
“We should not talk about such dire things,” Flint said. “The Red Festival is only days away.”
“You diverted the conversation so quickly, I almost thought you were scared,” Tarragon said.
“Of course not,” Flint said.
“We can spend this time better by talking about something exciting.” Dagan had his Waerie’s back, and he was not lying when he said he was big on loyalty.
“You’re good at running away from fights. Even if they’re verbal,” Tarragon said.
“Like you ran away when the Prenumbras slaughtered Prince Calico and Princess Harmonia?” Dagan spat.
“We both know you didn’t care for them,” Tarragon sneered. “You only cared for what the baby could give you.”
“Watch your tongue,” Dagan said.
“Or what? Will you cut it out?”
“I just might,” Dagan said.
Zoey resisted the urge to get up and leave the table. If a fight was going to break out, she did not want to be a part of it. Neither Rane, Flint, nor Cayin interrupted the argument. They all sat there as if they were watching a movie.
“Should I bring you four some popcorn or are you going to join in with the argument?” she asked them.
“Are you feeling a little bit left out, human?” Tarragon asked. “If you want to fight, you need only ask. I’m sure Dagan will be keen to fight you – since you are the only one, at this table, whom he can beat.”
Unexpectedly, Dagan swung his fist toward Tarragon and knocked him backward. Tarragon was instantly back on his feet, teeth bared. Tarragon overturned the table, and it would have struck Zoey had Caynin not been by her side so quickly to block it. Caynin pulled her off her chair and pushed her behind him. He shielded her with his body as he said, “You two better take this outside.”
“Do it the right way,” Rane said. “Fight in the arena.”
“Done,” Dagan and Tarragon said simultaneously.
Everyone followed the Evergreen prince and Everblossom ruler to the armory. Dagan went to the door first and marched ahead to the wall where he chose a sword. Tarragon did the same. Zoey studied the swords and reached for one with a beautiful hilt.
“This is a one-on-one fight,” Dagan told her as she drew the sword.
“I don’t mind it if the human fights on your side.” Tarragon then looked at Caynin. “I promise I won’t kill her.” He hadn’t said he wouldn’t hurt her.
Zoey looked at Caynin. She felt like she had to explain herself to him after he had so valiantly protected her. “I’m just taking it with for in case they come too close. I can’t be using you as a shield the whole time.”
“We’ll stand under the trees and watch,” Caynin told her. “They won’t come close.”
Zoey brought the sword anyway as holding it gave her a feeling of safety. She stood under the tree with Caynin, Bolt, Rane, and Flint. Dagan and Tarragon faced each other in the arena. Their swords were in their sheaths as Tarragon balled his left hand into a fist.
“On the count of three you may draw your swords,” Caynin spoke loudly. “One, two—”
Tarragon had been holding sand in his left hand. On the count of two, he threw the sand into Dagan’s eyes. Caught by surprise, Dagan reached for his eyes with both hands.
“Three.”
Tarragon drew his sword and swung it toward Dagan’s chest. If it were a fight to the death, he would have struck it through Dagan’s stomach. As it was, he left a big cut that began bleeding immediately, and Dagan stumbled backward. He was rubbing his eyes and clearly unable to see as his shirt turned red. Tarragon took advantage of his blindness by kicking him to the ground. Desperate to see, Dagan blinked, and then Tarragon kicked him in the nose. Zoey touched her nose as if the pain were her own. Dagan could see even less now.
“He cheated!” Zoey cried. “Cheater!”
“He did not cheat,” Rane told her. “We said they were only allowed to draw their swords after the count of three. He did just that.”
“But by throwing the sand on the count of two he bent the rules!”
“We don’t punish anyone for bending the rules,” Bolt said.
Dagan still hadn’t managed to draw his sword. He was on the ground taking kick after kick as if he were a soccer ball.
“This isn’t right!” Zoey said. Without thinking, she drew her sword and pushed past Caynin. She rushed toward Tarragon and swung her sword. He saw her just in time to lean backward, and the sword scraped his cheek and drew blood. She swung again, and he blocked with his own sword.
She had surprised him but didn’t linger on the small victory. She swung several times, and he blocked each blow with perfect accuracy. Even as she wondered whether he was holding back, he kicked her in the stomach. The breath left her lungs, and she stumbled back. Breathing hurt. She glimpsed Caynin, whose arms were being held by Flint and Rane. Bolt stood there and did nothing because he didn’t care whether she lived or died.
“He said he won’t kill her,” Rane reminded Caynin.
“Don’t interrupt this fight,” Flint insisted.
As Zoey tried to catch her breath, Tarragon punched her so hard her neck snapped backward, and she fell. The word was turning, and she had lost her grip on the sword.
She had created a diversion by throwing herself into the swordfight which had given Dagan enough time to get the sand out of his eyes and draw his sword. Before Tarragon could hurt her any further, Dagan was between them.
He swung, and their swords collided. They pushed against each other, blade against blade. Then Dagan pushed his sword downward toward Tarragon’s hilt. The quick motion made his blade skid over the hilt and onto Tarragon’s fingers.
Tarragon cried out and let go of his blade while Dagan slammed his head into his nose. Tarragon fell onto his back. When he looked up, Dagan held his sword to his chest. The fight was over. But for a moment, Zoey feared Dagan would shove his sword into Tarragon’s chest. He didn’t – avoiding a potential war.
Caynin rushed over to Zoey and helped her to her feet. He put his gentle hands on her head and took away the pain. She was glad she was not crying.
“Thank you,” she said and then looked over to Tarragon. Rane wanted to help him up, but Tarragon pushed him away.
“I can’t decide if you are brave or stupid,” Tarragon said to Zoey.
“You bent the rules.” Zoey met his eyes, challengingly. She would not have been so brave had Caynin not been by her side.
“No one ever won from fighting fair,” Tarragon told her.
The conversation was over. Tarragon glared at Dagan but did not attack him again. He departed without picking up the sword. His ego had been crushed, and he was going to hold this against her. She would have to keep up her guard.
Dagan observed her with emerald-green eyes. “I owe you.”
Those weren’t words she had ever expected a Fata, let alone a prince, to say. “I’m glad you won,” she responded.
They shared a smile before Caynin took her arm and led her away. He instantly touched her wounds with his surprisingly soft hands and healed them until only dry blood remained on her skin. He looked her over to make sure that he hadn’t missed any injuries, and her chest tightened because he cared so much about her.
Once he was sure that she was healed, and they were out of earshot, she asked. “Why didn’t you go to his aid?”
Caynin was not a coward, and he was not scared of fighting. He could rip almost anyone to shreds – with his soft hands. Was it because he was jealous over the way Dagan had treated her and enjoyed seeing him get hurt? She didn’t know whether Caynin was that petty, but his mind, moods, and feelings were mercurial.
“Because it was a one-on-one fight,” Caynin answered. “It wouldn’t be right of me to join.”
If he had joined the fight, he would only have caused more conflict. Him standing aside had nothing to do with jealousy but had everything to do with what was right. Caynin looked out for the needs of others and the peace in his kingdom.
“But I did join.” Had she caused more trouble than she had meant to?
“You were allowed to. Tarragon said so himself – although he didn’t think you’d fight.”
The human can join.
“Did you think I’d join?” she asked Caynin.
“I think you have bigger balls than any of us,” he said. “Excluding me.”
She shoved him playfully as they wandered through the gardens instead of going to her room. Zoey admired the beautiful new ice sculptures of wyverns and piateks.
“What are you daydreaming about?” Caynin asked.
“I’m thinking about my dress for the Red Festival,” she said.
Caynin’s shoulders tensed. “So, you plan on attending?”
“Am I not allowed to?”
“Of course, you are,” he said.
“Then what is it?”
They stopped and faced each other. “There are certain things you won’t like.”
“I live here now,” she reminded him. “I know I won’t like everything.”
Caynin was quiet awhile. “What dress were you planning on wearing?”
“I have a beautiful red one with—”
“Not red,” he said. “Don’t wear red.”
“Why?” she asked. “It is called the Red Festival.”
“Red isn’t suited for you, not on that night,” he said.
She had no idea what he meant.
Before she could ask, he said, “I will send a dress to your room. I know you liked the previous one.”
“Careful, Caynin,” she said. “I might turn into a spoilt brat.”
“I think I have a better chance in turning you into my date, than a brat.”
Zoey was polite, friendly, and grateful, which were without a doubt manners she had learnt in the human lands. Those things didn’t necessarily apply in the Eternity Kingdom, but maybe Caynin found it interesting. She was also adapting quickly, realizing that she would have to be meaner here if she wanted to survive. She could have a sharp tongue if people got on her wrong side, and Caynin liked that strength – she could tell from the grins he gave her when she spoke her mind.
“Date?” she asked.
He opened his hand, and she watched as the snowflakes flew into his hand, swirled together, and turned into a frozen rose. Her jaw dropped, and Caynin’s satisfied smile flashed onto his lips.
“Zoey Wright, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Red Festival?”
She smiled and accepted the rose, despite the cold. “Yes.”
Zoey tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Falling in love with an immortal was doomed to end badly. She would grow old and ugly, and he would be young and beautiful forever. He was beautiful. His skin was like pearls. His hair was like ice crystals. His eyes were the color of a crystal-clear ocean. His lips were soft and pink.
Zoey knew she was staring at him. She should stop. But as her eye lingered on his lips, he stepped closer to her, and she couldn’t breathe.
Then he kissed her, in the gardens, where everyone could see.