My love? The crimson-haired beauty was the Winter Queen and sister to the Autumn King.
The Autumn King’s jaw was tight, and his chest heaved like he’d just completed a sprint. “You claim this human slaughtered our champions. You claim she survived with no aid. In fact, you claim she protected the crown prince, and you expect us to simply take your word on the matter?”
I glanced at the Winter King, waiting for him to respond, but it was Minimus who spoke.
“We do not expect you to do anything but accept the outcome of the games,” Minimus said haughtily. “Lord Aspen is witness to events that transpired, as is the crown prince.”
“And both belong to the Winter Court,” The Autumn King pointed out. “Both are sons of the Regency.”
Murmurs started up and grew louder by the second.
“It’s true,” another voice said.
The screen split and a golden-haired female appeared, dressed in gold and sky blue. Summer Court, no doubt.
“The arena was constructed by Winter,” she said in a high, reedy voice. “We cannot be sure there was no foul play. There is no evidence to corroborate your account of the turn of events. You present us with this human and expect us to accept that she was able to best our champions?”
“This will not stand.” A third Tuatha appeared on the screen. Dark-haired and dressed in mossy green. Spring Court. “We refuse to accept the outcome of the Regency Games.”
“We demand a new Regency Games,” Summer said. “A new arena will be built, monitored by representatives of all the courts.”
“Ridiculous!” Minimus scoffed. “If you had objections to the design or any procedures laid out for the games, you had plenty of time to put them forward prior to the event.”
“We trusted you,” Spring said. “But this outcome is preposterous and frankly unbelievable. It is a lie, and we can only conclude foul play.”
“We demand a new Regency Games,” Summer reiterated. “And in the meantime, the capital will pass to Autumn for safekeeping.”
I glanced up at Minimus and noted the tick of his jaw, then down to the Winter King, who glared at the balcony where the Autumn King sat.
On screen, the Autumn King’s lips curved in a smug smile. And it hit me that this objection had been planned. He’d liaised with the other courts to invalidate the outcome of the games. He’d arranged for this, to take control. But what had he offered Summer and Spring to back him?
This was a coup on Winter.
The whole room was in uproar now, and the king glared daggers at his wife, who looked like she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
If Autumn took over, what the fuck did it mean for my family and me?
Aspen’s arm brushed my shoulder as he came to stand beside me. “I have a solution.” His voice carried over the others, even though he didn’t raise it, and the cacophony ebbed. The light lanced down on us, and we appeared on the screen side by side. “A solution to satisfy us all,” Aspen said. “We will allow Winter’s Blade to prove her skill.”
Minimus smiled, thin and deadly, and my pulse skipped a beat as the implication of what Aspen had said settled in my mind.
“What do you mean?” The Autumn King asked.
“Your objection lies within your disbelief that this human could best your champions,” Aspen said. “You wish to see evidence. So, allow Winter’s Blade to give it to you.”
No, no, no. What the fuck was he doing?
“Each objecting court will prepare and host a blood trial for Winter’s Blade, streamed live using drones…for evidence.” He smirked.
The screen cut to Minimus and his smug smile, but blood rushed in my ears because…
No. Hell no. I opened my mouth to object, but Aspen grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to rub my bones together.
“Quiet,” he hissed.
The word was a command, sending a prickle over my skin and locking the words in my throat.
“You have forty-eight hours to prepare your trials,” Minimus said. “Winter’s Blade will undertake a trial per day, and when she is done, you will retract your objections.”
“And to prove her worth,” Aspen said, commanding the screen again. “Winter’s Blade will be permitted to take only one weapon of her choice with her into each trial. And when she is done, as penance for your false and unfounded accusations, you will concede Winter’s claim for a century.”
The Winter King sat forward, eyes gleaming with triumph, and Minimus sucked in his cheeks. My pulse raced, heart battering my ribcage in a desperate bid to break free because this was my life they were bartering with. My fucking life. And the need to scream, to object, to do something, was now trapped in my throat by some kind of magical command that threatened to give me a fucking aneurism if I fought it.
“Do you accept?” Minimus asked.
The Autumn King’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze dropped. It took a moment to realize what he was looking at, then heat crawled up my neck as it hit me that he was looking at me.
Sizing me up.
Judging me.
Refuse. Please refuse.
I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t kill and not lose the remnants of my soul.
“Answer!” The Winter King snapped.
I held my breath.
“We accept,” the Autumn King said.
2
Aspen opened the door to my room and jerked his head, indicating I get inside. The dancing and eating part of the damn celebration was postponed till after the blood trials, and it was time for me to get back in my box.
Words of rage burned my throat, desperate to shoot out and leap off my tongue, but Aspen’s command to be quiet kept me mute. It had stopped me from protesting to his insane plan, and it stopped me from venting at him right now.
All I could do was glare daggers at him.
He rolled his eyes. “If you want your voice back, then get in your room.”
Fucker. I stalked in, and he followed, closing the door behind us. The room felt too small with him in it. His antlers took up too much space, and his powerful, broad-shouldered form was forbidding as he approached.
I backed up on instinct.
”Sit,” he ordered.
My body complied, butt kissing the mattress. I glared at him harder, eyeballs aching as I poured every ounce of anger and hatred I had for him into that one look.
He whispered something, and the tightness in my throat melted. My limbs were my own once more.
I took a shuddering breath. “Don’t ever fucking do that to me again.”
“Or what?” he asked.
Or what? What could I do to him? Nothing right now. I closed my eyes, reining in my rage. Think, Danika. Be smart about this, and ask the right questions.
“Why are you doing this? Why did you suggest the blood trials?”
“I would have thought that was obvious,” he said. “They need evidence, and we will give it to them. You killed their champions in the arena, and you will do it again, and this time, the whole world will see it.”
“You think it’s that easy, huh?”
“You managed quite well in the arena.” He shrugged. “You were quite formidable.”
Formidable. He had no fucking idea what the bloodshed had done to me or of the nightmares that lingered at the back of my mind waiting for sleep to take me.