The moment I walk–erm, climb–into the house, despite trying to sneak into my room via the newer looking trellis, Momma is there. With Hans and Jenny.

I almost fell out the second-story window, and would have if Ran didn’t push me with her nose so I fell in, landing on my knees. Ran is the only reason I made it up here. The likelihood of me reaching the second story by myself was like telling a worm to fly.

I blow my short hair from my eyes and give them a weak smile. "Hi." I even give a little wave.

They stare at me. I smell like seaweed, my eyes feel gritty from lack of sleep, and I’m sure I have a few scrapes and bruises from my tussle with the dragon slash leviathan last night—but my ribs didn’t re break! Praise The King for small miracles. And all that was before I almost killed a sprite queen and betrayed something deep inside me.

The cold has yet to dissipate and I feel achy all over, as if I’m coming down with the kiefer fever.

But there is no way I’m telling Momma all that.

"How did you sleep, Madame Naomi?" Hans asks, making me raise an eyebrow. It’s weird hearing Momma referred to by her first name.

Momma glances at him as if he’s off his rocker, but Jenny struggles to hide a smile as she rests a hand on her stomach.

"I slept well, sir. A fine home we have here, thanks to you," Momma says.

"I take it your bed is adequate?"

"Quite. In fact, it is so soft I feel as if I sleep on a cloud."

"I ensured they placed only the best mattresses in all your rooms. Comfortable, warm, fluffy—"

I groan, plopping over on my back as I dream of warm, soft beds and my eyes droop. "Fine. Fine! I get it. You can stop now."

Hans leans over to peer down at me, eyebrows raised. "But there must have been something wrong with the bed. Perhaps you prefer the floor beneath the bed?"

Jenny chokes on a laugh.

Momma’s eyebrows are creased in confusion, her fingers playing with the ring on her finger from father, betraying her nerves.

"Hans, so help me, get out!" I wanted to shout it... but it came out a whispered command. A kitten could sound more threatening.

He blinks, faux hurt showing on his face while he presses his lips in a thin line to prevent a smile. "But you only just arrived. The jousts begin in but three full circles. You typically wish to warm up before you face a challenge."

I face plant into the warm carpet, groaning.

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"What happened last night?"

I rub my chest, my skin feeling almost cold. The cold still seeps as my soul bleeds and I try with all I am to ignore the parts of me that feel raw and broken, even as I try to smile for Hans.

A yawn overtakes my lips, two full turns of sleep not nearly enough time to replenish my stores. The sun bursts against my eyes and makes my head pound. I pull a tincture from my pocket, burning my tongue with the few droplets of arnica, staphysangria, sepia, and calc. phos.

Hans is lending me Blue to ride in the jousts, along with a few helpful tips, like the lance is two horse lengths and a bear to hold. I should forfeit. I have no idea why in the worlds you’d want to shove a pointy stick at someone in battle when you can just shoot someone full of arrows or stab them with a sword, but the battlefield differs from vigilante-ism. I understand that.

But jousting was never something I had any wish to learn. Now I regret that. And I have a feeling I will greatly regret this in just a while. But somehow… I can’t find it in me to care.

Why should I when I’ve no idea if the queen lives? When my Gift shocks me when I accidentally reach for it? When the other world is infiltrating the Underground and I’m stuck up here trying to protect a stuck-up, clueless prince.

Why should I care anymore?

And that, more than anything else, scares the dickens out of me even as the indifference and numbness and hatred seeps into my bones. I try to fight, try to smile and act as if nothing is wrong.

But the truth is, I hate myself for what I did last night and I feel like curling into a ball and sobbing... yet the tears won't come. When Momma left for me to rest, I tried. Somehow, it almost seemed I'd feel better with the release of tears.

But they never came. But the nightmares did.

And slowly but surely, my anger grows as I try to stifle the cold. I hate what has come. I hate La’Maciago for all they did. Hate the sprite king for blaming me when La’Maciago is truly to blame for putting a dragon in the waters. My father for dying when I need him now more than ever. The King for putting more and more on my shoulders until I feel I will break with the weight.

Can I not just quit? Throw the rabbit to the wolves and be done with it?

Hans snaps his fingers in front of my face and I jerk, hand on my knife but I don’t pull it. I blink languidly and squint, his face coming into focus. His eyebrows are creased in concern and his eyes darken as his lips twist in a frown. He reaches out a hand as if to touch my face but pulls back at my flinch.

"I could’ve killed you there, minx." That, more than anything else, seems to drive something into his eyes I cannot name. And… I normally am aware. But can’t I take a break every once in a while from my constant vigilance?

"What happened last night?" His voice is hard and unyielding, his eyes getting a look that Pa used to have when he was about to spank Jack for being a nincompoop.

I rub gritty eyes. "Don’t tell Momma?" I plead.

His jaw clenches, but I narrow my eyes. "Alright. But if it’s something she needs to know, then I will not withhold information."

It’s the best I’m gonna get. I’ll keep the details short. No need for him to know… all of it. "Darshius is invading the Underground."

Hans nods, his thumb polishing the hilt of his sword. "My contacts have been wondering. Their wars have spread up here, such as the one you got that orb from the other night." I wince and his keen eyes don’t miss it. His eyes narrow slightly. "What happened to the orb?"

"It’s a mite… complicated?" Hans stares at me, standing at attention with his hands behind his back, and I know from experience he’s not moving until I spill. He's more stubborn than a sow with a bone. "The orb is an Opes which is a powerful ancient artifact for supplanting Gifts and is why La’Maciago wants Ran, far as we can tell. But the Opes is with the fairies and I kinda… almost... accidentally... killed the queen last night." At his raised eyebrow, I step back and raise my hands. "It was an accident! I was trying to save a dragon and it just kinda happened and then the Gift got out of control and—"

Hans sits a hand on my shoulder, stopping my tirade, and I blink up at him, taking a deep breath into my suddenly deprived lungs. "Perhaps start at the beginning, minx?"

So I tell him, but I can’t look at him through any of it and I keep a monotone voice as I try to look at it through the eyes of another and not get any emotion involved. "The queen was alive when I left, but that means—"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You don’t have the orb and can’t get it."

I bite my lip, nodding.

He releases a breath, rubbing his thumb on his beard as his eyes dart all across my backyard in thought as he funnels through ideas. "Have you thought of pulling from the competition?" Hans asks, and I puff up like a cat.

Sure, I was thinking the same thing a while ago… but heck, I’m not a quitter. He holds up his hands, then pats me on the head, a smile teasing at his lips. "Hear me out, little minx. You haven’t slept over a few winks the last few nights and now have the underground to worry about. The prince will be fine. He has the entire city guard at his disposal, plus the mages in the king’s court. You are fighting a nigh impossible battle with an old knight, a wolf, and a few Honour Guards."

I snort. "As if you’re merely an old knight." I sigh. "Yes, I’ve thought of it. Quite often. But…" I run a hand over a scar on my chin. "I’ve gotten this far. I want to finish it. Prove to myself that I can, however unlikely it is that I’ll win. I want to prove that a commoner can… well, that a commoner can."

And that doesn't exactly explain it, either. It's not something I can put into words. And I decided last night... I'm not a quitter. I will finish this.

Hans smiles, his eyes crinkling as he pats my shoulder a bit awkwardly. I try not to flinch at the warmth of his hand and how it almost feels… bad, to be touched. As if my skin is overly sensative. But Hans is not one for physical affection, so I don’t wanna shoot him down and normally welcome it with open arms. "I appreciate the tenacity. But what should happen if you run yourself into the ground with no one left to fight as you can?"

Annoyance flares. He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be mad. "I know my limits."

He raises a single brow, and I growl. I stomp back to the house to gather… something. Surely I’m forgetting something or another.

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Blue stands with his ears back as I braid his mane. He has a stink eye, but I speak to him through the process, feeling a bitter-sweet that Ran cannot be here with me. I wish… I shake my head. If wishes were coin, I’d be rich. "Easy, bud. Almost done."

"Where have you been?" I just about poke the body with the pointy end of a knife when the voice pops in my ear. He’s just too daggum quiet for his own good… or health.

The voice has the prim and proper pronunciation of the upper crust but also an exasperation that gives more inflection to his deep voice and a snap at the ends of the words. Any of the upper peacocks wouldn't be caught dead expressing such an emotion, but this guy is different. I think it's a game to the nobles to see who can be least expressive, but the prince makes the rules, so it doesn't matter if he breaks them, I suppose.

"Here and there," I reply, making sure Blue’s mane is tied well. It helps keep my eyes open to have something to focus on as I wait for Hans and Jenny to return from getting my family settled in the stands.

I'm surprised they left me here alone... but now I wonder—

Blue sniffles my pockets for apples and I shove his head away, smiling at the big, soft-hearted brute. Blue’s hair reaches to his shoulder, so I braided it and then folded it onto itself three times. No way am I risking that much hair flying into my face when I’m trying to get a bead on someone I’m supposed to knock from their horse. Hans said this was what groomsmen and squires are for, but the smell of horse calms me and the warmth of his body helps my fingers turn a bit more pink.

They’ve been slightly purple ever since last night, so I tried to keep them hidden from Momma and the other busy-body boogers. So far, I’ve been able to hide it, but hope it goes away soon or they’re liable to notice and ask questions I don’t want to answer. Even Hans doesn't know the entire story. He doesn't know what I did... what the Gift feels like inside me.

I shake my head, breathing deeply of the musty and sweet scent of horse, letting his mane tickle my nose. Blue snuffles at my pockets again with a low nicker, looking for treats and drawing a smile from me as I push his head away.

Sir Hans gave me some pointers about jousting, but I have little confidence. I’ve never done this. Never done anything similar. But will I be able to continue if I get completely displaced? I’ve received tokens, and many at that, for winning the first two trials, so for now my standing is first. But that’ll change, especially if the king grants his tokens to another.

But I shake my head. When did this become about winning? I just wish to stop princey here from losing his breath before his time.

Ran snorts, amusement bleeding through our connection. It's as if she doesn't beleive me.

And prove to the masses that they can do more than they ever dreamed, it just takes a little gumption to challenge the status quo, I hiss at my bond for good measure. The crazy wolf merely goes back to licking her paw, disbelief covering a deep amusement. Great.

I huff internally at her.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern bleeding into his voice.

Oops. Guess I took too long to respond. I turn and bow, doing my best to look unaffected by his sudden appearance into the drab arena stables. "Oh, your highness. I didn’t realize it was you." But my deadpan voice clearly communicates the opposite. My head spins when I come back up, but I hide it by leaning into Blue.

I think I see a hint of a smirk, but it hides behind pursed lips and eyes deepening with concern. "Now you bow?"

Yeah, I technically should've thrown myself into a bow the minute his cultured voice appeared.

My cheeks color slightly—in embarrassment or frustration, I can't quite tell—and I busy myself on checking my armor. Which is heavy and clunky and supremely itchy. And I only have the chain mail on. I’m supposed to have a whole set on the way, courtesy of Sir Hans.

I don't know why men put themselves through these types of things just to prove their prowess at knocking someone else from their horse. "You caught me off guard, is all." A question bounces around in my head. "Oi! Our bet. What would you have gotten if I’d of missed?" I narrow my eyes. We never defined what he would’ve received if I hadn’t hit the center with all five arrows.

"I merely caught you off guard? Surely you can do better." He smirks, crossing his arms and leaning against the stable wall, looking for all the world like a timeless hero come to life with his silken tunic and black breeches which show off his trim waist and leg muscles rather well. I jerk my eyes away, my face burning. But I can't help but glance back, my eyes drawn to him like a fly to a flame. Heck, is this what a fly feels before it's burned?

His aristocratic features and high cheekbones enhance his eyes, which dance with mirth and pleasure and swirl as if they were an ocean caught in a gale. My eyes follow his neck—how can a neck be muscular? Not fair!—and follow his well-built chest to lean muscle gained only through either sword or a hard job ripple along his forearm and bicep. I would almost think him flexing, so I jerk my gaze up to his eyes, only to see the smirk more pronounced and his eyes decidedly more devious.

"Like what you see?" he asks, and the heat spreads down my neck and up to my ears.

I turn my back on him, leaning against Blue.

What in the worlds does he think he's doing? I'm just some boy. Doesn't he know that?

Cold flushes through me. Could he know I'm more? And if he isn't Silver... this could be bad. Very bad.

I scowl, peeking at him over my shoulder, studying his face as he studies me in return, a tiny furrow blossoming between his brows. His eyes, behind the mirth and mischief, shine with an intelligence that scares the living daylights out of me. And beneath that is something else. Something almost... warm?

I try to get a bead on his emotions… to see if what I think—perhaps, even hope—might be is true… but my Gift is coiled tighter than a snake around a rabbit. And when I reach out and touch it… it stabs me and I feel my soul bleed a little more. I clench my teeth around a wince, trying not to show how a jolt went through my entire body as if I’d touched lightning. A shiver wracks me from head to toe, and Prince Arin's lapis lazuli blue eyes narrow, searching my face. Something in his eyes hints at a pain deeper than what his face shows, almost as if my pain is his pain. Almost as if he sees past the wavering strong and peppy front I show the worlds to the broken and aching girl beneath the false veneer.

I need to take his mind off me before he asks the question hinting in his eyes. I turn back around, facing him and crossing my arms to match his.

I squint my eyes, looking closer at the filigree and flowing patterns... "Is that real gold?" shoots out of my mouth before I can bite my tongue. Whelp, it’s as good a topic change as any.

Blue chooses that moment to nudge my back because I’ve been ignoring his low nickers, and I clobber into the prince.

He catches my arms as I stumble. "Easy there." He smirks as he looks down at my heating face. "Are you only light on your feet when wielding something sharp?"

I jerk away—his touch scalding my skin but not in a good way—wondering why he’s such an obnoxious jerk and why I'm trying to protect him. "Are you always this rude?" My voice is higher than I’d like, so I cough to deepen it. If he’s not my Silver, then I need to keep my cover. Aso long as it's not already blown.

He shrugs, then adjusts the golden doublet, but when his eyes snap up to mine, for a split second, I would swear they turned silver. And the look in them is far from the proud and haughty prince I’ve come to expect. "Not all of us have the freedom to be ourselves." He places his hands behind his back and meanders off before I can puzzle that one out.

And before I can bow. Grrrrr. I’m starting to suspect he’s doing that on purpose.

"And you!" I growl at Blue and Ran, both of who seem to snicker in my mind, the conniving jackalopes. "What were you thinking? He’s the prince, not some common jackalope to throw me at!" I slap a hand over my mouth, glancing around, happy that no one seems to pay me much mind. I am in the back of the stable, beyond the bustle of people getting their horses ready closer to the main arena entrance, and there aren’t that many people back here since the jousts began. Thank all that is good and holy.

The one stable hand close enough to hear gives me a look, then hightails it from the aisle.

Then I realize the prince distracted me, and I still don't have an answer to my question about what he would’ve gotten had I missed in the archery competition.

That. Man. ARGH!