Home > The Monster Ball : A Paranormal Romance Anthology(4)

The Monster Ball : A Paranormal Romance Anthology(4)
Author: Heather Hildenbrand

“Why are you bellyaching? He’s a prince,” Shalendra said, narrowing her eyes on me.

“He’s Fae,” I said.

He lived in Faerie. If he selected me, I wouldn’t just be leaving my home—I’d be leaving this realm. It was easy enough for fairies to travel through portals from one world to the next, but I didn’t have that kind of power. I was a simple elfin female. What if he didn’t want me seeing my family again? I wouldn’t shed tears for Father or Shalendra, but leaving Melarue would break my heart.

“At least he’s not a vampire or a werewolf.” Shalendra flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t see what you have to complain about. He’s gorgeous, rich, and he’s royalty.”

“Then why don’t you compete for his hand?” I snapped.

Father sucked in a breath and glared at me.

“You would send your younger sister in your stead?” he demanded. “I suppose you think Melarue ought to compete as well.”

I set my spoon down with a clink, starving, yet unable to eat.

“Of course not,” I said. “I don’t think any of us should compete.”

“How else are we to survive?” Father asked. “Do you want to see your sisters out on the streets? Begging? They’re not as strong as you.”

Mel huffed indignantly, but a stern look from Father silenced her. Her lower lip pouted and she fisted her spoon, using it to stab at the gruel inside her bowl.

Father pushed his arms onto the table and leaned forward.

“What other options are there? What do we have left to sell?”

He raised his thick eyebrows and stared into my eyes without a hint of warmth.

Me, I thought bitterly.

Shalendra fingered the pendant resting between her plump breasts. Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, confirming, once again, that my pendant no longer rested there. I lowered my hand to the table.

Green eyes gazed at me. I stared right back into Shalendra’s eyes, refusing to be the first to blink. Her eyes flicked down my torso and back up to my face.

“He probably won’t pick you, anyway. You’re not exactly princess material.”

If only that were the case.

What we were about to discover was that Prince Cirrus, eldest son of Merith Elmray, King of Dahlquist, didn’t seek a princess. He wanted protection. He wanted a mate he could trust. Someone to watch his back and keep a close eye on his brother, Liri, next in line to be king of Dahlquist—after himself.

All this would be explained to me at the end of the tournament.

I thought maybe I had a chance of escaping Cirrus’s notice. The next afternoon, the blacksmith’s daughter, Faylen, showed up at the glade wielding a sleek steel blade with a leather hilt and raven at the end of the pommel. More stunning than the sword, Faylen’s layered light brown hair cascaded down her body like a waterfall. A white blouse slipped past her shoulders and was cinched around her slender waist by a leather corset. Matching leather cuffs encased her arms from her elbow to her wrists and a long brown skirt billowed at her ankles. Blue feathered earrings dangled from her earlobes.

Keerla, from the nearby village of Bluespark, arrived with both a longbow and a sword. Every male eye was upon her as she’d strode into the clearing scantily dressed in tight leathers that hugged every curve and left her legs bare where her tall boots didn’t cover. The thick brown hair at the top of her head had been swept back and braided. A silver headband across her forehead completed the image of an elfin warrior princess.

I thought for sure Cirrus would choose Keerla at the end of the tournament. And good luck to her!

I stood, shoulders slumped, in a thin light blue muslin gown with my hair woven into a long, simple braid. Father had insisted I make an effort, only to throw his hands up in exasperation when he saw what was left of my wardrobe. And there was no fixing the gauntness of my limbs or the dark hollows beneath my eyes. Liri’s observation had been cruel but correct. I looked haggard.

I just wanted to get this tournament over with then see if Devdan had fetched any coin for yesterday’s early morning kill.

Maybe it was time for my family to move into a smaller cottage on the south side. It would be a rough adjustment, but it would be a lifestyle we could maintain. Father was right. There was nothing left to sell, and all the deer in Brightwhisk Forest wouldn’t change our situation.

A trumpet sounded and the families gathered at the glade quieted down.

Cirrus and Liri strode forward, flanked by six Fae guards. They stopped in the middle of the clearing.

“Gather ’round, fine elf folk of Pinemist and Bluespark,” Cirrus announced in a melodic voice. The group moved in closer. When I hesitated, Father narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin for me to move forward.

Shalendra hung back beneath a tree wrapped in her favorite crochet shawl—one we’d sold months ago. Jhaeros must have bought it back, like the pendant. He stood at her side, arms folded, scowling at anyone who looked in my sister’s direction. Her benefactor. Her protector. Her doting admirer.

I could feel Jhaeros’s scowl creeping over my own lips.

Why was my family’s fate left entirely up to me? If Shalendra really wanted, she could be taken care of by an affluent male who would treat her well. It would mean one less elf to feed and clothe—an expensive one at that.

“This is not a tournament so much as a skills demonstration,” Cirrus continued.

Several groans of disappointment went up. A portion of the crowd had arrived to watch the females battle for the Fae prince’s hand.

“Pitberries,” a boy not much older than Melarue grumbled from a few feet away. “I thought the Fae would make them fight.”

Liri looked over at the boy and grinned wickedly as though he agreed and would have done things differently if it were he, and not his older brother, choosing an elfin bride.

I shuddered and returned my attention to Cirrus. He nodded to his guards. Three of them moved in tandem to the edge of the glade then returned, each hauling a straw dummy and wood stake to the center of the clearing.

The Fae guards slammed the stakes into the earth then attached a dummy to each.

“Faylen, show us your skills with a sword,” Cirrus commanded.

He and his entourage stepped back, and the crowd moved with them like an ocean wave. A soft breeze whispered through the clearing, blowing Faylen’s hair back as she walked forward, sword at her side. She moved regally, her attention fully focused on the dummies as though she were entering a battlefield about to face off against her enemies.

Faylen stabbed the first dummy through his chest, where the heart would have resided had it been a living creature. Her blade went straight through and the crowd applauded. She took the head clean off the second dummy, causing the crowd to cheer. At the third dummy, Faylen lifted her sword over its head and brought down the blade, splitting it down the middle. The gathered crowd roared.

Cirrus’s eyes lit up and a grin crept up his cheeks.

“Very impressive,” he said, sounding pleased.

The massacred dummies were removed from the clearing and replaced with fresh ones. Two more contestants were announced before Keerla. Strapped in her tight leathers, Keerla charged into the clearing, hair whipping behind her. She kicked the first dummy off its wooden prop with her long booted leg before bringing her sword down over its gut. From her crouched position, Keerla grabbed her bow from her back, nocked an arrow, and let it loose at the next dummy, hitting it between the eyes. She left her bow on the ground, charged the last dummy, stopped six feet from it, and launched her sword. The blade sailed through the air, as though it were one of her arrows, before sinking into the dummy’s chest.

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