When Siegfried was satisfied that he had gotten enough of a workout, and several of his fellow Princes were nursing the bruises he had given them with winces and rueful glances, he joined Leopold at the fence. The Prince wrinkled his nose as Siegfried approached. Siegfried moved downwind.
"I know. I stink." The Northerner made apologetic motions with his hands. "I'm going to get cleaned up, and then it will be time for dinner."
"I don't know how you can even think of dinner after doing something like that," Leopold mock-complained. "Considering how many blows you took, you should be sick by now."
"Because a little exercise makes a man hungry," Siegfried replied. Then quietly he added, "Studying their styles, I hope? It's not as if I can't adapt, but I need coaching. A lot of coaching."
"Indeed I was, and if you and I need to fight them, they are going to be even more bruised than they are now, because I am a very good coach." Leopold shared a conspiratorial grin with him.
"I'm glad to hear that." Siegfried was gladder than ever that he and Leopold had cooked up this alliance. The more time he spent with the handsome devil, the better he liked the man.
"And hope that you don't ever have to face Desmond." Leopold sobered. "He is not someone to underestimate. He's got the same reach you do, he's as strong as you are, and he's quicker."
"I'm not glad to hear that." Siegfried frowned. This was not the sort of thing that boosted his confidence. But — these fellows were usually trained in very specific styles, and Siegfried came from a land where anything was fair —
"And don't think fighting dirty will help. He'll fight dirty, too." Leopold might have been reading his mind.
"Bah." Siegfried vaulted over the fence, and the two of them headed in the direction of the Palace, Siegfried carefully remaining downwind.
They parted at the Palace, Siegfried to go get a quick wash at the stable, where there were pumps, Leopold to collect rumors. But what he collected was not a rumor, but a fact, and he caught up with Siegfried while the latter was still shirtless and toweling off his hair.
"After dinner the next contest is going to be announced," he said, with suppressed excitement. "And that's all anyone knows. But it is definitely official. I heard the Queen herself confirming it."
"So whatever it is, either Old Maggie thinks we can handle it without advance warning, or she took her services elsewhere," murmured Siegfried, a little disappointment in his voice.
"Or she didn't know, either. I would bet on that." Leopold seemed very sure. Siegfried wasn't nearly as certain. But — well, he should give the woman the benefit of the doubt, he supposed.
The announcement had spread like wildfire, and the Queen and Princess looked down at the restless men at the very full tables with enigmatic smiles. Finally when the last of the food had been cleared away, the Queen arose.
"We are pleased to announce the second contest of the trials," she said without any preamble. "We think it will prove something of a challenge."
As she spoke, servants began bringing in baskets lined with white silk cloth — and curiously, they all wore silk gloves. Siegfried's brows furrowed, as he stared at them.What on earth — why would they need to handle what was in those baskets with silk? Were the items that delicate? Was the contest to keep from breaking them?
"Our servants are going among you and handing you small, valuable objects. They are all made of gold. Please take one, and hold on to it while the rest are distributed." There was something very odd about the gleam in the Queen's eyes.
Sure enough, the servant that was working their table handed Leopold a strange neck-chain, and Siegfried a gold ring. And the moment he touched it, he got a familiar mixed feeling of danger and desire from it. And a tingle. It was the same sort of feeling that he had gotten from —
"Doom!"sang his bird at his shoulder. He stared at her in alarm. Oh surely, surely no one had gotten hold ofthat ring and brought it here! Then she trilled a chuckle. "Only, not the doom you think — "
By that point every one of the Princes had his object and was holding it, wearing varying expressions, ranging from boredom to bafflement.
"Each of you has been given a cursed object," the Queen said with apparent relish.
I knew it! He wanted to throw the ring as far away from him as he could, but he knew it was too late now.That was why the servants had been wearing silk. Silk insulated you from magic.
"Now we assure you," she continued, her voice strengthening to carry over the sounds of outrage and surprise. "We assure you that they are merely inconvenient curses, not fatal ones. Some of the curses will cause some discomfort, some will cause embarrassment, and some will change your behavior, which will probably also cause embarrassment. Still, you will want to get rid of these things. And that is your contest — you are to rid yourselves of these objects as quickly as possible. Only you are not to merely discard them, nor give them to whatever magician you have in your employ, nor fob them off on a Dwarf. You won't be able to in any event. The object will return to you unchanged unless you meet the very specific condition required. No, there is only one way and one place you can go to be rid of these things."
She smiled. Siegfried groaned. He knew what was coming, knew it instinctively. After all, what was the one thing that was almost immune to magic and loved gold more than Dwarves did?
"You must place your object in the hoard of the Dragon of Sharpstone Pass. And you must do so without harming the dragon in any way. He is useful to us. If you hurt him, you forfeit. There will be a Marshal there to make sure you abide by this." She gazed down at the Princes. "You may persuade him, trick him, slip the object into the hoard without him knowing, bargain with him — the possibilities are endless. As long as you don't attempt to harm him, anything is fair. Time is flying, gentlemen. Time is flying. The curses have not yet come home to you, and the dragon is a good distance away from here. And the longer you dally, the more likely it is you will find out personally just what curse your object carries."
"You are a sadistic woman," said Rosa, from her vantage point in the window overlooking the garden. The garden boiled with activity, like a nest of ants that a child had stirred up.
Behind her, Lily chuckled. "Don't blame me, blame Jimson. It was his idea," she replied. "I merely agreed that it was a good one, since we specifically wanted a task that couldn't be helped with magic. Even Sharpstone was amused, once Gina explained things properly to him."
"Gina?" Rosa asked, her brow wrinkling. "I don't recall that name. Do I know anyone named Gina?" She turned to look at Lily. She realized at that moment that they were beginning to look like a mother-daughter pair — both in the black of mourning, both in garments made by the same Brownies. The only difference was that Lily had a far more revealing bodice. The protective one that Rosa was wearing was a lot more comfortable than she had thought it would be, but the high neck had the curious effect of making her look younger than she actually was, which annoyed her once in a while. Usually when she was trying to get one or another of the Princes to see her asher, and not the prize-to-be-won.
"Not directly. She's a dragon, specifically, a Dragon Champion. One of only two that I know of, although, who knows — " The Godmother shrugged. "I would expect that the other dragons are studying this, and there may one day be more. Dragons take a long time to decide if they are going to do something almost as long as the Fae. At any rate, your indirect connection is that Gina is the donor for your dose of Dragon's Blood. She and her mate are extremely friendly and helpful to the Godmothers, and I was able to contact her again through Godmother Elena. Sharpstone is not particularly friendly to humans, but I thought he might be willing to listen to our proposition if we made it through another dragon."