Page 42 of This Prince Is Not Charming

“Me too,” I said, not wanting to focus on the other memories, the ones where she got sick and we couldn’t save her.

“My hair is going to set these bloody pieces on fire,” Clio complained as orange and red sparks jumped off her head. “I stay away from wood for that reason.”

Morton tilted his head. “If any game pieces are set on fire, that calls for immediate elimination.”

“So how is this going to work?” I asked. “How is one champion chosen?”

“I’d rather disappear than go on a date with the prince again,” Meera mumbled.

“Simple. There will be three rounds in which you will each face different opponents. By the end, the person with the most points on their board wins.”

“And the one with the least amount of points?” Lila’s voice quivered.

“Eliminated,” Morton said.

And we all knew what he wasn’t saying—that another one of us would disappear. A chill ran down my spine at the thought of it. It seemed like forever ago that Liadan had disappeared, but in reality, it had just been yesterday. If the trials were going to take place daily, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the next week, even if I was one of the ones who didn’t disappear.

“Now, if you’ll please find your name card and sit in your seat, I will explain the rules to anyone who hasn’t played Birendelle before.”

We all shot each other unsure looks before following Morton’s instructions. My name card sat on a table with a lacy pink cloth draped over it, and I sat down right as Clio sat across from me, her hair sparking and popping with the blowing wind.

“Have you ever played this game before?” I asked.

She bared her teeth, and it was the fiercest I’d ever seen her look. “Not until the godwitches were gone. The Fair Folk weren’t allowed to learn how to read. Fairwitch forbade it.”

I blinked, not sure how that kind of information wasn’t more widely known. It was awful.

“So when did you learn to play?” I asked.

Clio waved her hand. “My mam taught me how to read in secret. She learned centuries earlier when one of the demi godwitches taught her and a few other slaves.”

“Why would a demi godwitch do that if it wasn’t allowed?”

She grimaced. “Because he wanted us to educate ourselves and rise up against his arsehole father, the godwitch of storms. They weren’t a particularly pleasant godwitch and they were hard on their son because his powers were much, much weaker than their other children’s.”

I put a hand to my heart. We regularly made offerings to the godwitch of storms, hoping they would keep harsh weather from ruining our crops and gardens. Now I never wanted to make another offering to them again.

“Anyway.” Clio sighed. “That’s how my mam taught me to read: by playing games like this. She died years ago.”

The Fair Folk lived much longer lives than mortals, but they weren’t immortal like the godwitches and typically died around five thousand years old. And if Clio’s mother was a faerie, her father must’ve been mortal, which meant he’d have died long, long ago.

“Did you ever know your father?” I asked.

Clio shook her head. “Most faeries didn’t know their mortal parents unless you were very lucky and your parents had escaped slavery and were granted sanctuary by one of the godwitches who disapproved of having slaves. My mam and I weren’t so lucky. We were enslaved by the godwitch of storms.”

Now it made sense how their son had taught Clio’s mother to read. Because they lived in his father’s estate. It was all so very tragic.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “For all of it.”

Clio gave a small shrug. “It’s made us more resilient, stronger. It was a blessing the godwitches left us behind. Fairwitch might have thought they were punishing us, but eventually we found you, and now one of us might actually be queen of Fairwitch Isle.” She snorted. “If Fairwitch knew one of their slaves would be ruling over a city named in their honor, they’d probably claw their way out of the Otherworld to stop us.”

“All right, all right, that’s enough chitter chatter.” Morton sat on top of a table near the front of the gardens. “We have a trial to begin.”

I swallowed thickly, gut churning as a board filled with empty squares appeared between Clio and me.

Square pieces materialized, making a pop sound and clinking on the table in front of each of us. I gathered my pieces and set them on a little stand, each one a letter that I’d be using in the game.

Clio reached for a small sandwich that sat on the tiered stand next to the board and started munching on it while she studied her letters. I wasn’t sure how she could eat right now. I felt sick to my stomach over this whole thing, wondering if I would be the one to lose, wondering who would. I looked around the little garden, not wanting any of these people to disappear.