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Back The Beholder Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Books by Anna Bright
  63. Back Ad
  64. About the Publisher

“I should have thought you’d be more careful,” Bertilak said tightly. “Accidents happen in the melee, you know.”

Fear jolted through me. Were his words concern, or a threat?

Bear lifted his visor. “And yet,” he said breezily, “all was well today.”

“Indeed,” said Bertilak. “Today.”

The prince’s expression didn’t change when Bear at last yanked off his helmet and shook out a head of shaggy dark hair. But the village green erupted in deafening approval, clapping and screaming, heedless of their aching hands and throats.

“Congratulations, Bear Green, victor of the melee,” Bertilak called over the clamor. A man hurried forward to pass me the victor’s trophy and I handed it to my guard, biting my lip against the joy and admiration rioting in my chest.

The roar of the crowd was earsplitting, but I was fixed on Bear as he pushed sweaty hair out of his eyes and dropped to one knee in the grass, friends kneeling likewise behind him.

You are making a mistake.

But he was utterly magnetic.

From beneath his armor, near his heart, Bear produced the white rose he had taken from my wreath. He held it up to me, panting, a grin stretched across his face.

My heart was a lit candle, a forest fire, a burning star.

Doomed, but smiling.

I took the flower from his fingers, and the crowds continued to cheer.

33

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I got ready slowly, wondering if tonight Bear would be the one to knock on my door. If he would be the one to seek me out for a moment of quiet before the ball.

Our time was up.

I couldn’t stay with him. I couldn’t take a guard back to Potomac as my chosen fiancé and skip my other appointments. And I couldn’t very well take him with me to Norge, a rival to my last chance not to enter the Imperiya.

I didn’t know what I would say to him. But I wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands on mine one more time. I wanted him to say he had a plan.

But his knock never came.

I found Lang in the hallway, waiting in a charcoal suit. He studied the tiara on my head, dark eyes curious. “Is that new?”

The box had been waiting on my bed when I returned from the tournament. I’d blinked, nearly dropping the tiny crown when I’d unearthed it, glittering with emeralds and pearls, from a rich swath of purple velvet. A note written on expensive stationery had been attached, stamped with the royal crest.

Dear Seneschal-elect,

For tonight only, or for always, if you like.

To match your eyes.

HRH Prince B.

My stomach had dropped through the floor.

Lang swallowed, jaw working. “It suits you.”

“Prince Bertilak lent it to me.”

Or for always, if you like.

But I didn’t.