“They have a small room in the basement of the west wing.” He gave Brigitta an apologetic look. “You-know-who wants you to know that he’s sorry, but he can’t come see you tonight. After that performance today, the king is having some guards watch his every move.”
Brigitta nodded. “I understand. I heard tomorrow’s contest is archery, so at least we can be assured that he’ll be safe for another round.”
Brody snorted. “He could win if he wanted. But Stefan has warned him not to show off anymore. We can’t have the top three seeing him as a threat.”
Brigitta swallowed hard. If the top three contenders believed Rupert was in their way, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Boom.
A large kettledrum was hit, the deep sound reverberating across the stadium. The crowd grew quiet.
Rupert nocked his arrow.
Boom. The second strike sounded.
It was the following morning, and the archery contest had begun. There would be a total of ten drum strikes, and within that time all six contestants needed to shoot one of their arrows. Each of them had a target one hundred yards in front of him.
Rupert drew back his bow and waited.
Boom.
One, Two, and Five released their arrows. With a resounding thud, all three arrows hit the red center of the bull’s-eye.
Boom.
Rupert smiled to himself. With three perfect hits, it wouldn’t matter if he added one more. He glanced at number Five, who stood beside him. The northern Tourinian appeared to be more than an inventor. He handled a bow and arrow as well as any soldier. If there were more men like him in the north, could they be counted on if Rupert needed an army?
Boom.
Three and Four shot their arrows. Each one hit the target, but an outer ring.
Boom.
Rupert let his arrow fly. It zoomed straight for the bull’s-eye, striking it with a loud thwack.
The crowd roared, and some began to shout. Seven! Seven!
He glanced over at Stefan, who was in the stands along with Brody in human form. Brody’s gaze was scanning the crowd as if he was searching for someone. Stefan crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Rupert.
He sighed. Being tied for first place with three other men wasn’t showing off. He glanced at the golden box where Brigitta sat next to Gunther. Today she was dressed in gold and purple. How long would he have to wait before he could see her again?
A trumpet blared to signal the beginning of round two.
Boom. The first strike of the drum.
Let’s just get this over with. Rupert nocked an arrow and let it fly. When it hit the outermost ring of the target, the crowd grumbled. They’d expected better.
Boom.
One and Two hit their second bull’s-eye. The crowd went back to cheering.
Boom.
Three and Five just missed the center circle. Four muttered a curse when his arrow fell to the ground three feet away from the target.
Rupert winced. It looked like the Eberoni farmer was going to lose today’s contest.
The horn gave a short blast to mark the beginning of the third and final round.
Boom.
Several arrows flew. Four’s arrow fell short again, but One managed to hit his third bull’s-eye. The crowd roared as he pumped his fist in the air.
Rupert snorted. So Captain Mador thought he was going to be the winner. Didn’t he realize number Two, the general, could hit another bull’s-eye and tie him?
Boom.
Rupert took aim and hit the ring next to the red center. There, that should make Stefan happy. He was neither winning nor losing.
Boom.
He glanced over at number Two. For some reason, the general was still aiming and hadn’t taken his shot.
Suddenly the general turned toward Three and fired his arrow straight into the admiral’s chest.
As the admiral fell onto his back, the crowd shrieked and jumped to their feet.
Blood spread across the admiral’s white shirt, completely covering the number pinned to his chest. He lifted a trembling hand to the arrow, then his arm fell slack at his side. His head turned slightly, his eyes glazing over.
Damn. Rupert caught Captain Mador and General Tarvis exchanging a smirk. So the first two had planned this together. And since the competition allowed for the top two contestants to remain alive at the end, they probably figured they had it made.
Stefan gave him a pointed look and Rupert nodded. Message received. Don’t be a threat to numbers One and Two, or they will remove you.
*
Brigitta suppressed a shudder when the admiral’s body was unceremoniously dumped on top of the third trapdoor. The other contestants took their places on the platform.
“Announce Captain Mador as today’s winner,” Gunther told Lord Argus.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Argus smirked. “I guess it’s obvious who the loser is.”
Gunther nodded. “I suspected something like this would happen, but I thought it would take longer for them to bare their claws.” He chuckled. “Mador and Tarvis have definitely impressed me.”
“Quite so,” Argus agreed. “You’ve taught them well.”
Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “I can’t help it. I’m naturally a good influence on people.”
Brigitta pressed a hand to her mouth. She didn’t know whether to cry or throw up.
“Finish it,” Gunther ordered.
Lord Argus scurried off to give instructions to the trumpet player.
The blast of his horn echoed through the stadium, and the crowd responded with a shout. “One!”
The second blast. “Two!”
A third blast. “Three!”
The third trapdoor opened and the admiral’s body fell through.
As the crowd cheered, Brigitta tried not to think about the murder she’d just witnessed. Instead, she focused on Rupert. He was watching her. Slowly, he lifted two fingers to his lips, then smiled.
A kiss. She smiled back.
“I see you’re enjoying it.” Gunther chuckled. “Wait till tomorrow. I designed the obstacle course myself. It’s going to be very exciting!”
*
The next morning, Brigitta rode to the stadium with Lord Argus. He explained that King Gunther had left before dawn to oversee the completion of the obstacle course.
“We started building it yesterday after the archery contest,” Lord Argus explained. “I haven’t seen His Majesty this excited in years. There will even be a wild boar!”
Brigitta gasped. “A boar?”
“Yes!” Lord Argus’s beady eyes gleamed with excitement. “We’ll just have to hope that one of the contestants falls into the boar pit. I’m sure the crowd would find it very entertaining.”
“Of course.” Brigitta swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen an obstacle course before. How does it work?”
Argus smiled proudly. “Even though His Majesty designed the course, I came up with a way to determine the winner. The drummer will pound out a steady beat. Then I have servants who are assigned to each of the five contestants. They will count how many beats it takes for each one to finish the course.”
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