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AFTER LEARNING ABOUT the tournament, Dacrith and Hexam took their time to travel across the realm. They reached the town that was only an hours’ walk from the palace a couple of days before the tournament was due to start. Dacrith found lodging in an inn and spent most of his time listening to rumors in the tavern downstairs. The city was crowded with Unseelie fairies. Thousands had gathered with the intention of signing up to compete to become king.
Hexam was forced to stay in his miniature state to avoid detection. He’d refused to remain in the nearby forest and insisted on staying with the prince. Consequently, he currently resided in Dacrith’s pocket.
Sitting at a table at the back of the tavern, Dacrith kept his hood pulled down low to hide his face and listened to the gossip. Bets were being placed on the likely winner. Many notable warriors had stated their intentions to compete. Dacrith recognized their names from before he’d been exiled. While the warriors were skilled, he had little doubt that they would fall to his blade. The only problem was that he didn’t currently have a decent blade, or a suit of armor. Both would be necessary in order to win. Unarmed and unarmored opponents would be swiftly defeated and would become ineligible to win Asha’s hand.
Hexam shifted in his pocket, signaling that he needed to take a walk. Finishing his wine, the prince heaved himself to his feet. He accidentally bumped into a fairy wearing the typical black armor of a guard. “Watch it, peasant!” the warrior barked in a contemptuous tone.
Dacrith was tempted to slam his fist into the man’s mouth, but resisted the urge. The inn was full of soldiers who had come from all over the realm. There weren’t enough rooms in the palace to hold them all. Most had sought lodgings in town along with the other hopeful contestants.
Heading outside, Dacrith was grateful for his cloak as the rain pelted him. Hexam squirmed again and he hurried towards the gate leading out of town. Armored guards watched him with bored expressions as he passed beneath the stone archway. Leaving the black pathway, he headed for the forest. Only when they were deep into the trees did he draw the Cerberus from his pocket.
Hexam gave the prince a reproachful look for taking so long, then trotted over to a tree to do his business. A vine lashed out in protest at being soiled when he was done. He had to duck all three heads to avoid being decapitated. The rest of the trees grew angry as well and chased the pair. Cursing foully, Dacrith wondered what had gotten into them as they raced away from the angrily waving branches and lashing roots and vines.
Bursting out into the open, he saw the palace just ahead. Huge and made of dark gray stone, lights dimly shone from the windows of all five levels. Seeing the place where he’d been born and raised for the first time in eons, his feet drew him closer of their own volition. Dark and forbidding, it had never been a welcoming building and nothing had changed during his long absence.
He was about to turn away, but tilted his head and looked upwards instead. For a few moments, the rain lessened to the point where he could see the palace clearly. Seeing a beautiful, but sad face in a window on the third level, he raised his hand before he could stop himself.
Even at a distance, he recognized Asha. His heart swelled with an emotion he couldn’t define. She caught the movement and peered down at him. He pushed his hood back and a smile lit up her face. She pressed her hand against the glass as if she was reaching out for him.
Something clenched inside his chest and he felt like his heart was being squeezed. Their eyes locked and he found himself unable to look away. Then the clouds gathered together again and the rain returned with a vengeance. He pulled his hood down and trudged away with Hexam at his side. The Cerberus looked back with one of his heads and let out a whine. “I know,” Dacrith muttered. “She’s so close, yet she might as well be on the moon.”
They trudged back to the town in glum silence, avoiding the forest this time. He skirted around a large boulder, then stopped in his tracks when he saw a body lying on the ground. Moving closer, he nudged the dead fairy’s leg and the armor fell apart to reveal it was empty. Only when it was in pieces did he recognize it. The armor belonged to him. It was the suit he’d left behind in the goblin dungeon. Even his sword was there. Hexam sniffed it, then grinned up at him.
Dacrith began to smile when he realized the brownies must have been responsible for its delivery. Even with magic fading from the realm, they’d found a way to get it to him. Now he didn’t have to worry about being recognized. Most warriors wore their helmets with the visor down. He would be able to enter the tournament while remaining anonymous after all. “Whomever delivered my armor and sword to me, you have my deepest gratitude,” Dacrith said as he removed his cloak and began donning the suit.
“Just know that we’ll be watching you, Prince Dacrith,” a brownie said as she appeared out of nowhere. She wasn’t alone. A full fifty brownies were crowded around her. Putting her fingers to her eyes, she pointed them at him in warning. Hexam bent a head to sniff her and she flapped her other hand at him to shoo him away. “Our Queen has already been through enough,” she added with a dour look at the Cerberus for ruining her somber moment. “If you do anything to cause her more pain, you’ll feel our wrath.” Murmurs of agreement sounded from the others.
In the past, Dacrith would have sneered at her threat. With his magic receding so rapidly, he took her warning seriously. “I have no desire to harm Asha,” he said and found himself strangely sincere. “I wish only to assist her to heal the realm before it falls apart.”
“We’ll see,” the belligerent brownie said with a sniff, then they vanished, taking his cloak with them. His armor would be effective enough at keeping most of the rain off him. It was enchanted so it wouldn’t become rusty.
Shaking his head, Dacrith continued to don his armor. Once he was fully clad, he hefted his sword, then slid it into his scabbard. He left his stolen sword lying on the grass. He’d feared he would never be able to take the throne after being so rusty at casting magic. Now the playing field had been levelled. His opponents would only be able to use might and skill to defeat him. Given his prowess in battle, he couldn’t see how he could possibly lose.
Hexam shrank down and he scooped the hound into his palm. He returned to the inn with a bounce in his step, suddenly feeling far more confident. Soon, all would be put right. He would be king, Asha would be his queen and the Unseelie realm would become stable once more.
Merely catching a glimpse of the dryad had lightened his spirits, even if he wasn’t quite sure why. He received a few curious stares when he pushed his way through the throng and headed for the stairs, but no one tried to stop him to talk. They were focused on the battles they would be facing in the morning. With so many combatants showing up, it would take days before a winner would triumph over the others. The advisors to the throne would have a system worked out to ensure the contest would run as smoothly as possible.
Removing his helmet when he was in the safety of his room, Dacrith placed Hexam on the floor, then began to pace up and down. A brownie cleaned them both, then the hound grew to his normal size. He leaped up onto the bed and made himself comfortable. The prince still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping on a bed. Maybe after so many eons of discomfort, he felt as if he wasn’t worthy of a soft place to sleep. An insidious voice at the back of his mind queried whether he was worthy of a woman like Asha. He pushed it aside, refusing to listen to his inner doubts.
