Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(69)

Gregor had done nothing but try to ruin everything since the Games began. He was a saboteur. That was all he was trying to do now. If he turned me against Rivelin…well, I didn’t understand what he hoped to accomplish, but he seemed desperate enough to try anything.

Nodding to myself, I returned to the celebration and joined Rivelin at the stage, where the rest of the competitors had already gathered. Hofsa shot me a sharp look, noting I was late. I wondered how she’d feel about her son’s continued attempts at sabotage.

Rivelin leaned in and whispered, “Where were you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I murmured back. “After we win.”

He frowned but didn’t argue. There were hundreds of spectators watching us, and many had enhanced hearing. I didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing me talk about his swords. Contrary to what Gregor believed, I didn’t think Odel or Haldor would be angry about the weapons. I couldn’t say the same for everyone else, though. Half the folks here weren’t from Wyndale. They might not know Rivelin the way the residents did.

The way I did…or thought I did.

I glanced at the other contestants. Hege, the dwarf, had brought a brilliant flower arrangement of lilies, wisteria, and white roses. It was a strange combination, but it somehow worked, and the sweet scent of them filled the air around the stage. Nearby, her wife, Nina, encouraged her with a smile.

The quiet human named Godfrey held a sculpture made entirely of leaves. Formed in the shape of a fenrir, it was an impressive sight. If he wasn’t already so behind, he’d gain a lot of important votes in this task.

Then there was Viggo, the fire demon. Much to my surprise, his submission wasn’t as impressive as the others. All he had was a small pouch that sat on the stage. I took a sniff. Jordur sand. Interesting. Did he plan to use it for some kind of demonstration?

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned to see Odel and Haldor huddled together off to the side, away from everyone else. They were whispering furiously, muscles tight around their eyes. Haldor shot a glance my way, and then averted his gaze just as quickly. I frowned. What was that about?

Rivelin placed a strong hand against my back, and the roar of the crowd washed over me. I’d been so focused on Haldor and Odel that I’d missed everything. The presentation was over, and the spectators were approaching the stage to taste the hundreds of cupcakes I’d spent hours baking with Rivelin. I stumbled aside, almost numb.

“Look at them,” Rivelin said, smiling, as the crowd descended upon the food. “They love the cupcakes. You did this, Daella.”

But I couldn’t find it in myself to truly appreciate the delighted moans and frost-covered smiles. Gregor’s words still echoed in my ears, even more now that I’d seen the strange meeting between Odel and Haldor. But no, it was ridiculous. Rivelin had only sought me out because he didn’t want me poking around. He’d initially agreed to keep an eye on me, not romance me.

He wasn’t using me…was he?

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” I said as brightly as I could, trying my best to smile. “It looks like we’re getting some votes.”

He searched my face, his brow pinched. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m just tired. We barely got any sleep last night.”

“Daella, I know when you—”

“I saw Gregor,” I blurted out.

He tensed. “Where?”

“He was in the woods behind the merchant stalls again. But the things he stole, he didn’t have them. He didn’t even know what I was talking about when I tried to make him tell me where they were.”

Rivelin scowled and started to head to the stalls, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. “He already got away. With the speed he has, it will be impossible to catch up with him now. You’re fast, too, but he’s already long gone. We don’t even know which direction he went.”

“What did he want?” he snapped.

I swallowed and decided to tell him everything. It would be the only way to rid myself of all these doubts. I needed to look into his eyes while he told me that every word Gregor had told me was a lie. I needed to hear he hadn’t seduced me only to divert my attention away from dragon magic.

I needed to know that whatever was between us was real.

But before I could say a word, Hofsa rang the bell atop the stage. Holding aloft a half-eaten cupcake, she called out for all the crowd to hear, “It seems we have a winner!”

Indeed, she was right. Our glass jar of pebbles now sat even with Viggo’s, who had done nothing with his sand, while the other two only had a handful more pebbles in them. The crowd roared their approval.

Any hope I had of speaking to Rivelin about Gregor’s accusations whispered away on the wind as hundreds of cheering spectators surrounded me, sat me on a vine-covered chair, and lifted me in the air.





29




RIVELIN





T he folk of Wyndale embraced Daella as if she were one of our own. Everyone knew she was the one behind the cupcakes, even if I’d proudly stood beside them as we presented her concoction to the crowd. I was hopeless in the kitchen, and it was not a well-kept secret.

I watched my neighbors raise her on a chair made entirely of branches and vines, purple flowers sprouting along each leg. It was a part of the celebration reserved for someone the village deemed remarkable, used only once every year. For Daella to have won it meant something, something that stirred my heart in a way I wanted to ignore.