Brigitta’s heart raced. “Will the contestants be at the celebration?”
“Of course.” Hilda pursed her lips in disapproval. “But there will be seven now. A foreigner has arrived at the last minute.”
Rupert. Brigitta took a deep breath, careful not to show any reaction. But inside her heart was pounding.
Rupert was here, and she would see him tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rupert hoped Brigitta had a better room than he did. He and Stefan had been relegated to a small room in the basement of the older west wing. But the first part of the mission was accomplished. He was safely ensconced in Lourdon Palace, and no one had questioned his identity.
When he had arrived with a small troop of soldiers and servants, he’d been immediately taken to the office of Lord Argus, who was King Gunther’s chief counselor and the man in charge of the finer details of the competition.
Argus had examined Rupert’s papers, written by King Leofric and the Duke of Vindalyn and introducing him as Baron Suffield, an Eberoni nobleman from the Duchy of Vindalyn.
“You are qualified enough to enter,” Argus had said while returning the papers. “But can you afford the entrance fee?”
Rupert had brought quite a bit of gold with him from the island, so he plunked down a bag filled with gold coins.
Argus’s eyes had lit up when he’d counted out the gold. “Excellent.” He slid a paper across the desk. “Sign here that you have agreed to abide by our rules, which are subject to change at any moment.”
Rupert had suppressed a snort. So he was agreeing to be executed if he lost a round? He signed as Umberto Vintello, Baron Suffield.
“Excellent.” Lord Argus retrieved the paper. “You will be given quarters inside the palace for you and one servant. The rest of your entourage will have to stay at an inn. At your expense.”
That meant they wanted to separate him from his soldiers and make it difficult for him to escape. No doubt they also wanted to separate him from more of his gold. “I understand.”
“There will be a feast tonight where you will meet His Majesty and the other contestants. Oh, and the princess will be there, too.” Argus had waved a hand to dismiss him. “My servant will show you to your quarters.”
Now that Rupert was resting in the small room, his thoughts turned once again to Brigitta. Hopefully she had been treated well. If not, he might have to kill her bastard brother before the competition even got started.
Stefan paced back and forth, frowning. “I wonder how Fallyn is doing.”
Rupert stretched out on the bed. “Go fetch some food from the kitchens.”
Stefan snorted. “You want to eat now? You get to go to a feast in a few hours. Was I invited? No. I have to play the lowly servant.”
“Bring back food for yourself. And while you’re there, see if you can find out where the princess has her room.”
“Oh, right. That’s where Fallyn would be.” Stefan hurried out the door.
He returned later with a huge basket filled with food and wine. “They were extra generous when I gave them a few gold coins. And very talkative. The princess has a whole suite of rooms one floor up on the east wing. She even has a large balcony overlooking the Loure River.”
Rupert smiled. Before making his invention that swept him up to the crow’s nest, he’d spent years climbing to it. A balcony one floor up would not present a problem.
An hour later, he had washed, shaved, and dressed in expensive clothes he’d received from King Leofric. A servant led him up some stairs and through a curtained-off doorway. Immediately his surroundings changed. Now he walked on gleaming marble floors, surrounded by gilded mirrors, long windows, thick marble columns, and enormous portraits. A high ceiling arched over him, covered with paintings of naked women lounging about on a green pasture, eating grapes. If women actually did that, he’d somehow missed it.
No doubt, the luxurious décor was intended to leave him in a state of awe, but it did the opposite. It had taken him two days to ride to Lourdon, and he’d seen how the average people in Tourin lived. Half starved and crowded into mud huts. It hadn’t been like that when he was young and his father had ruled. All those years when he’d been hiding or living at sea, his countrymen had suffered. And now that he saw proof that the bastard Gunther had been spending all the country’s wealth on himself, he was filled with rage.
Instantly, his gift of wind power merged with the sudden surge of emotion, feeding off the excess energy to grow stronger. A gust of air burst down the hallway, stirring the gold brocade curtains and rattling the portraits. Candles snuffed out, causing the hallway to darken. The servant stumbled as his cape swirled around him and his cap blew off his head.
“What the hell?” He grabbed the cap off the floor and cast a wary look down the dim hallway. “Did someone leave a window open? I don’t see one.”
Rupert tamped down on his power. Control. This was not the time to unleash his fury. “Perhaps the palace has ghosts.”
The servant’s eyes widened as his face went pale. He ran to a door and with trembling hands, jerked it open. “You’re supposed to wait here until the feast is served.”
As Rupert approached the room, he noted it was dark, lit only by a fire in a hearth. Dark paneling lined the walls, and three well-dressed men were inside.
The servant closed the door after him, and his pounding footsteps sounded as he ran away. Rupert turned to face the other three men.
One of them, who looked Tourinian with his blond hair and blue eyes, gave him a wry smile. “Welcome to the losers’ club.”
“You must be number Seven,” a dark-haired young man said with a slight accent.
Rupert bowed. “Baron Suffield at your service.”
“You can forget about having a name here,” the blond one muttered. “We’re just numbers to them. I’m Five.”
“Four.” The dark-haired one raised a hand.
“I’m Six,” the shy-looking one mumbled.
Rupert frowned. “I would prefer to know you as real people.”
Four snorted. “What’s the point? We might as well be numbers. Our days are certainly numbered.”
At the sideboard, Five began filling cups with wine. “At least tonight, we have a reason to celebrate. I heard they’re going to wait till the end of the competition to execute us, instead of killing us one by one.”
Four retrieved a filled cup and raised it in the air. “Thank the Light for small favors.”
With a sad look, Six took a cup.
“Here.” Five offered Rupert one. “Have a drink.”
He took a sip. “If you all expect to die, why are you here?”
Four sighed. “My father insisted. Said he would disown me if I didn’t win and make his grandson the next king of Tourin.” He shook his head. “I’m from northern Eberon, along the border, and the Tourinian army keeps invading our land to steal the golden orbs from the village churches. My father thinks he’s can use me to get back at Tourin. I told him it was impossible, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“So you didn’t want to do this?” Rupert asked.
“No.” Four drank some wine. “I’m more interested in making improvements to our farmland. I’ve been studying how to enrich the soil and achieve a better yield of wheat. There are too many hungry people in the world.”
“I agree.” Six spoke up. “There is too much hunger and too much war. I’ve spent most of my life studying the different languages and cultures on Aerthlan. We can never hope to achieve a lasting peace with our neighboring countries if we can’t communicate with them or understand them. I-I had always hoped to be a statesman someday.” He hung his head, blushing.
A farmer and a scholar? Rupert groaned inwardly. No wonder they knew their days were numbered. “And you?” he asked the blond number Five.
“I’m from the north of Tourin, from the Trevelyan clan.”
Rupert’s breath caught. At one time, the Trevelyans had been staunch supporters of
the House of Trepurin.
“My father owns a silver mine,” Five continued. “I’ve been trying to invent equipment to make it safer for the miners.”
A fellow inventor? Rupert’s curiosity was piqued. “I’d like to see what you’ve come up with.”
Five shrugged. “I don’t think my ideas will ever be built.”
He expects to die. Rupert winced. These were all men who could make valuable contributions to the world, feeding more people and keeping them safe, or working for peace among the different nations. These were the kind of men he would need once he was king, for they would be the ones who could help a country and its people be secure and prosper.
“So you’re from Eberon, too?” Four asked.
Rupert nodded. “From the south, the Duchy of Vindalyn.”
“That’s a long way from here.” Five, the Trevelyan, narrowed his eyes. “You speak Tourinian very well.”
Did he suspect something? Rupert inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“So do you have vineyards on your land?” Four, the farmer, asked.
“Yes,” Rupert replied. He’d been well coached by Luciana’s father. “And a few groves of olive trees.”
“Sounds nice,” Six mumbled.
“Why are you here?” Five asked. “Did your father force you, too?”
Rupert shook his head. “I wanted to come.”
Four gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t you know we’re going to die?”
Rupert took a sip of wine. “I intend to win.” He was met with a chorus of snorts and disbelieving looks. “And when I do, I’ll make sure that each of you lives.”
Four scoffed. “I appreciate the thought, but it won’t happen.”
Six gave him a shy look. “Can you really do that?”
Five leaned close to whisper, “Don’t repeat that to anyone else. You’ll never live to see the competition.”
Rupert nodded and lifted his cup. “To us.”
The men clinked their cups against his and drank.
The door opened, and Lord Argus strode inside. “The feast is ready to begin. I’ll take you to the ballroom.”
* * *
Brigitta grew increasingly nervous as she accompanied Hilda down one corridor after another, headed for the Great Hall. Her midnight-blue silk gown and soft leather slippers hardly made a whisper as she walked on the gleaming white marble floor. Behind her, she could hear the constant clunk of heavy boots. The two soldiers who normally stood guard at her door were now following her.
Did Gunther think she would attempt an escape? For now, she was determined to play the role she had adopted for this mission. A shallow princess who loved her new clothes and enjoyed having men risk their lives in competition for her.
This corridor was lit with candles in gold sconces along the walls on each side. Each sconce had three branches entwined with golden strands made to look like ivy. Mirrors reflected the candle flames, making the hallway even brighter. Ancestors she’d never heard of stared at her from enormous portraits.
She followed Hilda, turning right into another hallway. This corridor was even grander than the last one, although it was darker. A group of servants jumped when they first spotted her and Hilda, then they quickly resumed their task of lighting candles, all the while muttering about ghosts.
Finally, Hilda led her into a grand foyer with massive marble columns that supported an arched ceiling painted with a bloody battle scene. A flash of memory skittered through Brigitta’s mind. This battle looked much like the one in Rupert’s memory. Had her father had this painting done to commemorate his defeat of Rupert’s father’s army? Good goddesses, was Rupert going to see this?
She gripped her hands together and took a deep breath. Stay calm and remember your role. Lifting her skirts, she climbed the short staircase to the huge golden doors that opened into the Great Hall.
There, at the entrance, she stopped, stunned for a few seconds by the opulence before her. The large, rectangular room gleamed with an abundance of gold. Three massive gold-and-crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling that was plastered and painted to look like a sky filled with golden suns and stars. Long windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling. In between the windows, long mirrors had been installed, each one bordered with multiple golden sconces so that the flames of a dozen candles would be reflected. Every inch of wall space was decorated with curlicues of plaster painted in gold leaf. With all the gold, mirrors, and candles, the room sparkled.
Two long tables extended down the length of the room. In between the tables, there was enough room for the well-dressed courtiers to mingle. Brigitta scanned the crowd, but couldn’t see Rupert. Gunther was easy to spot with his gleaming gold tunic and cape. More gold and jewels adorned his crown, necklace, and multiple rings. No one else was dressed in gold. Perhaps her brother had reserved the color strictly for the royal family. He had made sure that each of her gowns had a little gold.
At the far end of the room, a large dais was topped by a golden canopy. Two golden chairs sat in front of a table, covered with cloth of gold. It was too much, she thought. No doubt her brother would eat gold if he could.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Brigitta,” a footman announced at the door.
Her brother strode toward her, and she sank into a deep curtsy.
“Not bad,” he murmured as he took her hand. “I’ll introduce you to the men who will be competing for you.”
As he led her down the room, the courtiers parted to allow them a wide path through. They bowed and curtsied as Gunther and Brigitta passed by.
“Shouldn’t I meet these people?” she whispered.
“Don’t bother.” He gave them a disdainful look. “They’ll just betray you someday, and then you would feel a little miffed about having to execute them when you thought they were friends. So you see, when I keep you isolated, it’s for your own good.”
“Thank you, brother dearest—Your Majesty.”
He chuckled, then stopped in front of three men, who doffed their hats as they bowed. “Here they are.”
Brigitta curtsied.
Gunther motioned to the one on the right. “You’ve met Captain Mador before. He’ll be competing as number One.”
The captain gave her his usual sneer. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Brigitta forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“This is General Tarvis.” Gunther gestured toward the man in the middle. “He’s the commander of the royal army and will be competing as number Two.”
“But I’ll finish as number One,” the general added with a smile.
Mador snorted. “Over my dead body.”
“Exactly.” General Tarvis gave him a wry look.
“And number Three,” Gunther continued. “Lord Admiral Aevar, commander of the royal navy.”
“Delighted to meet you, Your Highness.” The admiral bowed his head. “I regret that my men were unable to stop that bastard Rupert from kidnapping you. I assure you, the men were duly punished.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Brigitta replied. “And thank the Light that horrid pirate was captured when he attempted to take the ransom money in Eberon.”
“Ah, that reminds me,” Gunther said. “You’ll be happy to hear the latest news. Rupert is dead.”
Her heart lurched, but she quickly recovered and pasted on a big smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Did they execute him?”
Gunther shook his head. “According to the report, he was killed while attempting an escape. But since he comes from Tourin, I think I should have my ambassador demand that the body be returned to me. I won’t believe the bastard is dead until I see it.”
“A wise decision, Your Majesty,” Mador said.
Gunther nodded. “I’ll tell Argus to send an envoy. You three should get better acquainted with my sister.”
As Gunther walked away, Brigitta scanned the crowd again. No Rupert in sight.
“Are you looking forward to the competition, Your Highness?” the lord adm
iral asked.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Are the other contestants attending the feast tonight?”
Captain Mador waved a dismissive hand. “They’ll be here soon. There’s no point in you getting to know them.”
“True,” the general agreed. “They’re just going to die.”
“I think we should lay bets on which one goes first,” Mador said.
General Tarvis scoffed. “Too easy. It’ll be whoever has the least experience at riding a horse.” He glanced at Brigitta. “Tomorrow’s contest will be a horse race.”
Mador sneered at the lord admiral. “You might be the one to lose. I doubt you’ve ridden any horses all those years you were at sea.”
A spurt of alarm shot through Brigitta. Rupert had been at sea almost half of his life. Would he be able to survive the first round of the competition?
Admiral Aevar shrugged. “Not a problem. I grew up on horseback. I could jump hedgerows better than anyone on my father’s estate.”
General Tarvis rolled his eyes. “Hedgerows? One time, when I was on horseback, I jumped across the Loure River.”
Brigitta blinked. She could see the Loure River from her balcony. “Isn’t the river too wide for that?”
The general waved off her objection. “I jumped halfway across onto a moving barge, then jumped to the other side. Nothing to it.”
Mador snorted. “I once jumped off a cliff onto the back of dragon, slit its throat, then dove into a lake and swam ashore.”
The admiral shook his head. “That’s nothing. One time I harpooned a whale, and it dragged me off the ship and across the ocean, but I climbed up the rope onto the whale’s back and stabbed it to death with my sword.”
Brigitta frowned. “You killed a whale?”
The general glared at him, then turned to Mador. “One time I jumped onto the back of a dragon and slit its throat, too, but then another dragon attacked, breathing fire. So I leaped onto the back of the second dragon while I was ablaze and strangled it to death with my bare hands.”
“That seems rather unlikely,” Brigitta began, but Mador interrupted her.
“Oh, everybody’s done that. One time I killed three dragons in midair, while I was on fire, then hurtled to the ground and broke both legs, but I still made it back to camp.”