Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(12)

“The Midsummer Games? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Of course you haven’t. No one in Hearthaven wants Emperor Isveig to find out and decide he wants to take part in the Games himself.”

“All right, I’ll admit I’m intrigued.” I perched on the arm of the sofa and waited for him to continue.

“Every year, Wyndale hosts the Midsummer Games. They take place in the summer—”

“Yes, I got that. Can you skip to the good part?”

“Perhaps if you didn’t interrupt me, I’d get there sooner.”

I just gave him a brilliant smile.

He scowled. “People from all around the Isles come to take part or spectate. That’s why there are so many visitors here right now, and why the inn was so packed. Everyone looks forward to it every year. Some say it’s the best part about living on Hearthaven.”

“All right, so what do you do? How do you win? And what do you get? It must be good if you’re willing to stoop so low as to team up with me.”

“There are seven participants every year, drawn at random. They go on to compete in a series of four challenges. Each one corresponds to one of the elements. After each challenge, spectators vote on the winner. Whoever has the most votes at the end wins the Midsummer Games.”

Four challenges, each representing one of the elements. It made sense. Our world revolved around the elements, just as most magic did.

“And the winnings?”

Rivelin gave me a long, hard stare, as if he were trying to decide whether he’d tell me the truth. It was something big, then. Something to do with dragons, perhaps?

“Not coin, if that’s what you’re thinking. This island is special. All these islands are. How do you think they’ve stayed hidden for so long?” he finally said. “It holds power of its own, one it likes to gift its residents. There are rules, though, made a very long time ago by the island itself. We get one gift per year. Otherwise, we’ll use up the magic too quickly.”

“I’ve never heard of an island having magic,” I said slowly.

“Is it really so surprising?” he asked. “With Galdur sand, we can bend the elements to our will to create magic. Those elements can harm as well as heal.” He gave my bare arms a meaningful look. They weren’t as red as they’d been before, but they were clearly still irritated. Irritated by water—one of the four elements. And the heat from the hearth soothed some of that pain. Fire always did make me feel better.

“So you take part in four challenges and win a gift from the island?” I asked.

“You can ask for anything you want,” he said in a low voice that was almost drowned out by the crackle of the flames. “Almost anything. It will not directly harm anyone or anything. And you can’t ask for it to change something on the mainland, unfortunately. It will only alter things that are here.”

Well, this was far, far more interesting than I ever could have dreamed.

“If you want to win so badly, you must have something in mind?” I cocked my head. “What are you going to ask the island to give you?”

“I’m going to ask it to protect the folk of this place from Emperor Isveig. Others have tried in the past, but they always get the wording wrong, since the island sometimes translates in unexpected ways. But I know what to say to make it right.”

My heart thumped against my ribs at the sudden passion in his voice. I’d hated Isveig ever since he’d brought his invading army into Fafnir, but I may have just met someone who hated him even more. Someone whose home reeked of dragon. Someone who was the ticket to my freedom…in more ways than one, potentially.

My hip ached from the icy sting of the shard, an ever-present reminder of who owned me, at least for a little while longer.

“Any idea what these challenges are?” I asked. “How dangerous are they? What kind of weapon will we need? You know, I’d be a much better help if you hadn’t tossed my mother’s dagger into the sea.”

“I should have known your first instinct would be violence. I told you, we don’t do that here,” he said with narrowed eyes. “No one is killing anyone for a little bit of magic.”

It was all I could do not to gape at him. “How long have you lived here?”

“On Hearthaven?” he asked, a suspicious tone to his voice. “Fourteen years. Why?”

“Then you’ve forgotten what it’s like out there,” I said, vaguely gesturing at the world beyond the storm-tossed sea. “Back in the Grundstoff Empire, people do kill others for magic. Mostly Isveig’s warriors. The ice giants are terrified of anything they can’t control, and that’s most magic. If it’s not ice, it has to die.”

Rivelin stared at me. His eyes roamed across my face, down my body, and then back up again. A shiver went through me. There was something so feral in that look, like he was peeling me apart, inch by inch.

At long last, he spoke. “You’re not made of ice and you’re still alive.”

“No,” I said slowly. “I’m not ice. And Isveig keeps me on a tight leash because of it.”

My answer seemed to satisfy him—for now—because he nodded. “Well, you’re no longer in the Grundstoff Empire, Daella. The Midsummer Games are a celebration of our freedom and of this island’s power. Now, do we have a deal?”