Hofsa nodded from where she stood overseeing the festival as Rivelin gently set the dragon atop the stage. Down the row, I could see what the others had created for this night. Beside us, Godfrey had created elegant candles in various pastel shades. Further down the row, Hege, the dwarf, had a plate of grilled fish. She’d gone with an interesting take on the fire theme, though not one I would have chosen myself.
Now that we were down to only four contestants, there was only one other left on the far end, and from what I could see, no item had been delivered to the stage just yet. Viggo, the winner of the previous challenge, stood there quietly beside his assistant, his red hands folded in front of him.
I leaned in and whispered to Rivelin. “What do you think that’s about?”
Rivelin frowned and shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. It was almost impossible Viggo had decided to forfeit his place in the Games, especially after winning the first. That could only mean he had something up his sleeve. Judging by his relaxed posture and the hint of smugness on his face, he clearly thought whatever he had could win.
And if he won two out of four…that could effectively clinch the entire competition for him.
“You don’t think—” I started to say just as a sharp, high-pitched whistle rent the night.
Bright orange light streaked through the sky and exploded in a confetti of sparks overhead. A hush went through the crowd as the first blast was soon followed by another—this time in a brilliant red. Then another in golden yellow. Again and again the sparks filled the sky, the light reflecting on the awestruck faces of the spectators.
Movement caught my attention down the row of competitors. Viggo smiled and lifted his hands to his sides, motioning at the display and mouthing something I couldn’t hear over the blasts. I didn’t need to, though. It was clear this was his submission for the Fildur Trial.
Something stirred in my chest. It truly was breathtakingly beautiful, and it was almost impossible not to revel in it. I looked up at Rivelin, noting the tightness of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. Whatever this display was, it would win, and I didn’t know what to say to ease his frustration.
When the final spark blinked out of the night sky, the crowd cheered. Then came the presentation for the rest of us. The others went first, showing off their grilled fish and their candles, which only resulted in a mild, scattered applause. Rivelin held up the dragon when it was our turn. The cheers were louder this time but nothing compared to the response to Viggo’s sky of sparks.
We wandered away from the stage when it was over. One by one, spectators came to add their votes to the glass jars. It didn’t take long to see there would be a clear winner.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him as we grabbed two bowls of bread and stew from one of the many market stalls. “I know how hard you worked on that dragon.”
“I can’t be angry when someone wins by besting my own effort,” he replied.
“I don’t think it’s your effort he bested. He just made something…well, remarkable. What was that?”
The tables were packed, so we found a couple of crates stacked up near the line of merchant stalls and settled in to eat our dinner. Rivelin took a few bites before finding an answer to my question.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I daresay no one else has, either. Must be something only fire demons know how to make. That’s why he’ll win.”
“Looks like we’ll stay in second, though.” I nodded toward the stage in the distance. Spectators were still making their votes, but from here, it was clear to see we’d remained the runner-up. Unfortunately for the other two contestants, Hege and Godfrey, very few had voted for them. They didn’t stand a chance any longer.
“Those votes won’t be enough, not unless we win the final two challenges by a landslide,” said Rivelin.
“Vindur and Jordur. Air and Earth.”
“And I can’t say I have anything good up my sleeves for either of them, unless you use the Vindur sand Kari gave you,” he said. “Even then, I don’t know what we’d do with it.”
We finished our dinner, and Rivelin went to say hello to his sister. I offered to return our bowls to the merchant, telling him I’d catch up when I was done. I was halfway to the stall when a weird hiss sounded from the bushes nearby.
“Psssh. Daella,” a harsh voice whispered.
Frowning, I edged closer to the bush. A hand shot out from the branches, grabbed my arm, and tugged me through the scratchy plant. I cursed and spun away, only to come face-to-face with Gregor. He looked terrible. Purple stains rimmed his bloodshot eyes. His golden hair was askew, like it hadn’t seen a brush in months, and dirt splattered his trouser knees. Had he been crawling in mud? No matter. The worse shape he was in, the easier it would be to defeat him.
He held up his hands as I launched my fist toward him. “Stop. I’m not trying to hurt you.”
I froze. “Right. You just ambushed me when I was alone because you want to make nice.”
“Actually, I do. We need to talk about Rivelin.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What about Rivelin?”
“He’s using you.”
“You’re a couple weeks too late. He’s helping me. I’m helping him. Neither of us is using the other.” Not anymore.
“Oh yeah? Helping you with what, exactly?”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
With a shake of my head, I turned to go.
“I didn’t destroy his shop and steal his tools,” Gregor called after me.
I froze. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that.”
“Think about it,” he said, moving to stand beside me. “Why would I be so blatant about it? Wouldn’t I hide the tools if I stole them so that it couldn’t be traced back to me?”
“You provoked Kari in front of everyone,” I pointed out. “Don’t forget. I was there. And she wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t been.”
He folded his arms. “All right, I did provoke her. I didn’t outright attack her, though. Not until she attacked me. Because I play the game within the rules. Leaving stolen tools lying around is something only a fool would do.”
“So someone framed you, is what you’re saying.” I patted his arm. “Nice try.”
“Wait,” he said quickly, digging into his pocket and producing a folded piece of parchment. “I thought you might want to see this.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s that?”
“I’ve got friends in Fafnir. I sent them a letter via raven when you first got here, asking them about you.”
“You did what?” I advanced on him, horror snaking through me. If Isveig got wind that I was here and very much alive…
“Don’t worry. They’re loyal to his sister, Thuri. Turns out she survived the whole ordeal.” He passed me the parchment.
I didn’t want to look at it, fearing this was some kind of trick. But the roaring in my head was too loud for me to ignore. Without another word, I unfolded the note.
The heir is alive.
That was all it said. I lifted my eyes and looked at Gregor. “You expect me to believe this is from Fanfir, and it’s talking about Thuri?”