“Wow. Thanks, again.” I rub the delicate fabric between my fingertips. The Queen planned this all along. My eyes sting, but not with rage. I’m not used to mom-figure types who have such confidence in me.

King Connor lowers his arm. “It is tradition for the winner to accompany each House on one demon patrol throughout the next year. I hope that meets with your approval?”

Demon killing on earth? My heart and mouth both kick into overdrive. “That would be sweet!” I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “I mean, I would be honored to join demon patrol, your Highness.”

Connor’s laugh lines curl up with his smile. “The winner may also make a single request of the King and Queen. As long as it is within reason, your boon will be granted.”

There’s no question what I want. “I’d like to keep Nightshade.”

A smile quirks the Queen’s mouth. “A kindred soul, eh?”

I shift my weight from foot to foot. I hope this isn’t a rude request. “Yes. Nightshade is very special.”

The King and Queen share a long look.

“Granted.” Octavia motions to a nearby servant. “Please make sure Myla’s horse is saddled and ready for her to ride home tonight.” She gestures to the open chair beside hers. “Now join me for the closing ceremony.” I step into the pavilion and take my place at her side.

The rest of the tournament is a lot of falderal and marching around. Trumpets play, lords parade, and ladies giggle. The Earl of Acca struts around like a peacock with a new set of feathers. Everyone stops by to say ‘good evening’ to the Queen and ‘congratulations’ to me. Finally, the guests go home, the sky turns dark, and Octavia rises to her feet. She pats my hand.

“Well done, Myla. You are a tribute to the House of Gurith.”

“Thank you.”

“Was I right to assume you’d ride Nightshade to the Ryder stables tonight?”

“I’d like to.”

“Of course. You’ll find her beyond that line of trees.” She gestures across the tournament grounds. “Good night, my dear.”

“Good night, Octavia.”

The Queen walks to the other side of the pavilion. Connor’s sturdy form waits there by the exit stairs. The King nods in my direction, winds Octavia’s arm through his, and the pair step away.

It takes a bit of meandering in the dark, but I find the stables easily enough. It’s a long wooden building set into the trees. The front gate lies open. I step inside, seeing a central aisle lined with a dozen stalls on each side. Nightshade stands at the building’s end. An oil lamp casts a circle of light beside her as she nuzzles a crouched figure. Whoever-it-is sits half inside the final stall.