Perfunctorily, she took the queen’s hand in hers with the briefest hold, and brushed the back of her knuckles with a barely-there kiss.
Immediately after, she dropped the hand like a dead toad, and stepped back.
Guinevere stared unblinkingly into Rui’s eyes as she did so, pulling her hand back slowly, as if she was waiting for a particular reaction. A slight frown creased her brow when she didn’t see what she was hoping for, and she clasped her hands together before her.
“I do not recall Geralt the Elder having an heir,” the queen said in that same quiet voice.
It should have been a melodious, pleasurable trill, but Rui shivered with unpleasant goosebumps at the sound of it.
“He was a recluse in his later years, my queen,” Ere replied smoothly, inserting himself. “As the family historian, I can testify to my lord’s lineage. We brought the patents of nobility should you require them.”
Guinevere slid those glittering eyes to Ere, and Rui felt her skin crawl on her friend’s behalf.
“You seem rather youthful to be a family historian, sir,” she noted, assessing Ere shrewdly.
Ere puffed up his chest and donned a convincing mask of hauteur.
“My family has served my master’s for generations. My sire was Geralt the Elder’s tutor, Severin the Shrewd. My sire’s sire was—”
“Silence.”
Immediately, the large hall fell quiet, not a sound to be heard. Not even the scrape of a chair or the clink of a spoon.
Even the loquacious Ere closed his mouth, his eyes widening slightly as if his halt mid-sentence wasn’t entirely voluntary.
The queen speared Rui again with her sharp eyes.
“You look quite…delicate for a warrior,” she noted.
“Looks deceive, queen,” Rui said bluntly, her words unadorned, bordering on rude. “I am plenty strong and skilled. I dispatched your assassins in the lake, after all.”
There was a collective inhale of air amongst the crowd that had gathered around them. The guards put hands to weapons as one. Like a well-orchestrated squadron of soldier bees.
The queen bee’s eyes glittered ever brighter, like glass shards.
“Have a care with your words, my dear. Or you might not survive to fight another day,” she murmured silkily so that only Ere, Sorin and Rui could hear. Everyone else saw only graciousness and generous smiles.
“If anything happens to my opponent this night, you will not have your grand match on the morrow.”
Rui looked swiftly to her right, in the direction of that rumbly, deep voice.
Her heart tripped a beat, then accelerated with gladness and excitement when she saw her Wolfe with his young companion, Tristan.
She’d searched for him ever since they left the wrestling grounds. He walked away so fast, she couldn’t keep up without running after him. With her height, she soon lost sight of him in the crowds. Despite Ere’s admonishment, she’d mounted her horse to look for him. But a tour around the grounds had not been fruitful. She’d had no choice but to return to her tent and regroup.
That was when they received Guinevere’s summons. They couldn’tnotattend the celebration. Something about declaring their right to compete in the final match officially.
Besides, Ere wanted to conduct reconnaissance. They didn’t know what the final battle entailed. They couldn’t prepare for it.
Wolfe, however, didn’t so much as glance her way, Rui noticed glumly. He still seemed angry with her, though she couldn’t fathom why.
The queen bubbled with tinkling laughter, making Rui wince at the sound. Everything about the female repelled her, even as the rest of the crowd seemed to be completely under her spell.
At least Ere, Sorin and Wolfe looked immune. Though Tristan’s clear blue eyes took on a mesmerized glaze. A strange smile was pasted on the young man’s face.
“What could possibly happen to our fiercest champions?” Guinevere asked rhetorically, still smiling a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Now that you are both here, we may make it official.”