“Give him to me for a full day.” Signa sidestepped a little closer toward Fate, trying to keep her voice low. Blythe, she was sure, was likely trying her best to listen in. “Starting now.”
Fate walked with strong, confident strides, yet somehow still managed to look elegant. Almost like he was floating, with no scuffs on his leather boots. “I will not change the terms of our agreement.”
She made certain to kick the grass a little harder with her next step, hoping to send some mud onto his boots. Somehow, it didn’t land. “Very well. But no cheating. I don’t like men who play dirty.”
He laughed. “If playing dirty is what it takes to get you to remember all that you have lost, then I will be the filthiest bastard you’ve ever met, Signa Farrow. You’ll have your time with Death after our game.”
Signa had not anticipated the warmth that flared within her. Her throat was too tight to swallow, and she dared not look Fate in the eye.
The field was empty apart from the wickets and stakes meant for the game, and whether that was because everyone else was smart enough to enjoy palace food while they could or because of Fate’s hand, Signa had to wonder. She was glad for a few seconds of reprieve when he left her side to scoop up two of the mallets, one of which he handed to her.
“What do you say, ladies? Up for a game?” There was a spark in Everett’s eyes, and after all he had undergone these past few weeks, Signa’s foul mood eased at the welcomed sight.
“I’d rather watch,” Charlotte answered with a small smile that immediately had Everett grinning back. Signa couldn’t believe her eyes—just when had this fire between them begun?
“You’ll stay nearby?” he inquired.
“Of course.” Charlotte walked a few short feet away, stopping beneath the shady bend of a tree. “I’ll be right here, rooting for both teams!”
“If that’s the case, then my team will be me and my cousin,” Signa said, not about to allow herself or Blythe to be stuck on a team with Fate.
While she expected him to be annoyed by her declaration, his amusement seemed only to grow. “Very well, though you should know that in Verena we play for prizes.”
Dread crept into Signa’s stomach. She should have known there would be a catch.
“What’s the prize?” Blythe asked as she tested the weight of her mallet.
“Whatever you’d like it to be.” Fate kicked over two balls for each team. Both of Signa’s had a stripe of purple around them to match her mallet. “For us, perhaps a song written and sung in our praise? A favor? Or maybe even a kiss from a lovely lady?”
Everett straightened a little, glancing toward Charlotte. “I don’t think that—”
“Oh, come now, Everett.” Fate laughed. “It’s only a kiss.”
The refusal was upon the tip of Signa’s tongue, and yet Blythe jumped in.
“We can have anything?” she asked.
The trap had been sprung, and Signa wasn’t convinced that Fate could look any more gloating than he did then. “Anything that’s in my power to give.”
Blythe didn’t pause to consider her request, though she at least had the sense to lower her voice when she said, “If we win, then the prince must put in a good word for my father.” Before either man could say anything more, she added, “And I want to see him. Immediately.”
Everett lowered his mallet, his face severe. “Miss Hawthorne, that’s not possible—”
“Consider it done.” Fate’s lack of hesitation gave Everett pause. He blinked, seeming to question in that moment just how much power a prince might have. “I accept those terms.”
Signa’s mind worked through the request, threading through his choice of words for any hidden meanings. But before she could get her thoughts together, Blythe swung her mallet over her shoulder and started toward the field.
“Wonderful.” She batted away a blond curl that had escaped her wide-brimmed ivory hat. “You’d best prepare yourself, princeling. I’ve no intention of letting you kiss me.”
“Letting me?” Fate’s laugh was far too genuine. “You’re not to my taste, love.”
“So it seems there is a God.” Blythe clapped her hands together and looked to the sky as if praying. “It only took looking at your art for me to understand how terrible your taste is.”
Fate’s grip tightened on his mallet, and Everett and Signa shared a look. At least there were two people here behaving appropriately, though both Fate and Blythe reeked so thoroughly of determination that convincing them to play without stakes wasn’t an option, even if there was a second when Signa considered wringing Blythe’s neck.