When they got to her room, she plopped onto her bed, peeling off the armored part of her dress and chucking it onto a padded chair. Arie and Ivel came into the room, hurrying to pick up the discarded pieces of her dress. “What did you think?” the Dragon asked, leaning against the wall.
She groaned, “I don’t know.” Ivel pulled her up and started pulling pins from her hair. When they were all out, Muirgen scrubbed at her head and stood so they could help her out of her dress.
Uthyr crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been impressed with Richard Beven.” She made a face at him before stepping out of the overdress. Arie brought her a dressing gown and Muirgen tied it tight around her waist. She nodded to the servants, indicating that they could leave. Uthyr continued, “More than I thought I would be.” The door clicked shut behind Arie and Ivel, and Muirgen sat back down on her bed.
She waved a hand, “He is a strong contestant, there is no denying that. If he were loyal to me he would be a strong political ally. But if his father could control him…it could be disastrous.”
“I’m worried you’ll make an enemy of him if he is not chosen as Dragon,” Uthyr said, his eyebrows descending upon his nose in thought.
Muirgen shook her head, “Even if I do, I cannot choose him for that reason. Evan Macklin, on the other hand, would never be influenced in such a way.” She threw a hand through her hair, “But he is too affected by the war. I do not know if he would be able to remain unbiased when it comes to the Northmen.” She pursed her lips, “Rowan Gareth is the most unlikely to be the best choice. He has an inherent common sense that has helped him get this far, but his strength is not strategy.”
“And Artair Ector?” the Dragon asked, his voice light, though she could sense his disapproval.
She raised her eyebrows, “What do you have against him?”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his belt so the buckle was once more center. “I don’t think he would make the best choice.”
“Why?” she asked, leaning forward so her toes splayed against the cold floor. “He is perhaps less of a fighter than the rest, but he makes up for that in sharp intellect. He reminds me of you.”
Uthyr frowned and she could feel his panic shudder through her before he slammed down his mental doors. “What you need right now is someone who will help you, not distract you,” he said pointedly and she recoiled.
“When, in the course of my entire life, have I ever allowed someone or something to distract me from what I needed to do, or without thought of what consequences my actions would bring?” He was silent and she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She hadn’t meant to lash out at him, but he was being ridiculous. She knew what was at stake. Getting involved with a contestant was stupid and she had no intention of doing so.
“I only mean that the link can create a very…close bond between two people,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “If you already have a connection before the link is created, I worry that one, or both of you may feel the urge to get…even closer.”
Muirgen colored, “I know that boundaries must remain in place, Uthyr.” He nodded, but she knew he didn’t believe her.
Embarrassed, she moved on. “Fen Drudyn is a strong contestant, but I worry that I am allowing my fondness for his sister to cloud my judgement.” She rubbed her temples in slow, irritated circles. “I don’t know what to do. I never know what to do, and I’m so tired of it. One wrong decision could bring us to war—civil or with the Northmen. Another wrong decision could mean the complete devastation of our people. How can I choose anything when every choice is the wrong one?”
He sat on the bed next to her, bringing her closer by wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Being Queen is hard. Balancing being queen with guarding the piece is harder. Your mother dealt with the same problem. We don’t get to choose who we are, Muirgen. That’s chosen for us. Our lives shaped by the goddess, the Green Man, and our ancestors. We merely have to walk the path and pray that they will help guide us.”
She frowned in irritation. “That doesn’t help, Uthyr.”
He chuckled, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “No, I suppose it doesn’t. But let’s start with the easy choices first.”
“And who do you think should be Dragon?” she asked, her stomach full of tiny dragons, tied together in knots as they snarled and gnawed at each other.
He squeezed her shoulder once, then stood to return to his post against the wall. “I don’t think any one of them is worthy of being at your side.” When she huffed in irritation he added, “And it’s not my choice to make. It’s yours. I can offer advice, no more.”
“Then who do you advise I choose?”
“I advise that you look at the facts. Your country is on the brink of war. You need someone respected. A good warrior, a good strategist. Someone who works well under pressure. You need someone loyal to you, but who can rally the council to back you when it comes to outright war.”
Not an answer, again. She was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. She needed someone who didn’t exist. “I’m tired Uthyr. I still have one more test before I have to decide.”
He nodded, turning to go, then stopped, “You already know who you are going to pick, Muirgen. You just have to do it.” Then he left, closing the door behind him, the slight sounds of his conversation with the guards outside masked by the heavy wood.
Muirgen peeled off her dressing gown, laying it across a chair before climbing into her bed. Fen, Artair, Richard, Evan. Fen, Artair, Richard, Evan. Fen, Artair, Richard, Evan.
The Green Man stood before her, his face shaded by a sweep of blonde hair, a crown of leaves curled around the proud antlers upon his head. He held out his hand, and she took it, marveling at the mossy feel of his fingers. He led her through the forest, the ground rushing by faster than her feet could naturally move. She didn’t know how she knew, but something was chasing them, closing in faster than they could run. The Green Man pulled her to a stop, pressing his soft fingers on the knotwork beneath her skin between her breasts lightly, but his black eyes spoke with urgency. A tree, twisted and burned, but somehow still alive, towered over them. She covered his fingers with her own, frowning up at him in confusion. He leaned in close, as if to tell her something, but then jerked back in pain, melting into the darkness and leaving her alone.
Muirgen gasped as she woke, shooting straight up in bed. Her door was flung open, two of the Dragon’s guards rushing inside before she waved them away. They closed the door, but she could hear the fall of footsteps as one rushed to tell the Dragon. She rubbed her face, then pulled her hair back, tying it in a knot at the base of her neck, the weight of her curls keeping the knot in place. The Green Man. He had often haunted her dreams in the past year. Each dream felt so real it was hard to shake them off, but she shook her head, lighting a candle just as the Dragon came crashing into the room, his sword out.
He strode through the room, checking every crevice before returning to her bedside. “It was just a dream,” she said, the exhaustion coloring her voice.
He sighed in irritation, “Well I don’t always get context when your guards tell me, ‘She needs you’.” He resheathed his sword with a decisive click.
“What do you know of the Green Man’s powers?” she asked, moving to grab a book off her bookshelf.
“Again?” he asked. She nodded, leafing through the book in search of something she had seen before. “I don’t know.”
“Our ancestors worshiped him,” she whispered, raising her eyes to his. “I think he is trying to tell me something,” she said, slamming the book shut and grabbing another. “I think maybe something is lost in the forest. Or something I’m meant to find.” She raised her hand to the place between her breasts and it warmed to her touch. She resumed flipping through the pages, then stopped, the sketch catching her eye. “This.” She pushed the book toward Uthyr.
“A tree?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.
“A tree,” she agreed, “In the North.”
“What?” He was frowning at her, obviously lost.
She sighed, she forced herself to slow down, “This is the journal of Taglin, famed explorer. Near the end of his life he writes that he was called to visit the North. To sketch the home of our greatest enemy.” She placed a long finger on the sketch, “This is the tree the Green Man showed me.” The huge, gnarled, dead tree was unmistakable.
“No.”
“No, what?” she asked, turning her back to him as she closed the book and reshelved it.
“I know what you are thinking. The answer is no,” Uthyr said, his voice hard.
She frowned at him, “In two days it won’t be your decision Uthyr.”
He drew back, sharply inhaling through his nose, then crossed his arms across his broad chest. “You are not going into the North’s territory,” he snarled.
“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked, “The council wants me to go there, and now...I think he does too.”
He sank into a chair, “This is lunacy. It was just a dream.”
“I have to do something,” she insisted, “and right now it’s the only thing that makes sense.” They both were silent, the candle flickering slightly. Finally she stood, “Wake them up. We’ll do the test now.”
“Now?” Uthyr asked, his brows drawing together. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Why not? I’m up. I’d rather get it done with.”
“Most of your contestants went to sleep only hours ago,” he pointed out.
“I don’t care,” she said, twisting her braid around her free hand and tugging on it lightly twice before letting go. She was running out of time. He sighed, but left to do as she had asked. Muirgen collapsed onto her bed, heavy with exhaustion. She just wanted it to be over. The tournament. Being queen. The Northmen. All of it.
She shrugged on her dressing gown and left her quarters, two guards trailing behind her. The Dragon had gathered the five contestants in the hall, their clothes hastily thrown on, their eyes unfocused with sleep. ‘Most of your contestants went to sleep only hours ago,’ Uthyr had pointed out. Obviously they had been drinking, their eyes and the stench of sweat and mead clung to them. “Your final task,” she said, folding her hands together, “Is to bring me a single item that shows me who you really are. You have until dawn.” She swept from the room, leaving behind five very tired, still half-drunk contestants.
Uthyr hurried behind her, “Are you sure this is the best idea?”
“No.”
“I suppose it’s too late to tell them just to go back to sleep?” he asked.
She nodded as they got to her door, “Let me know when they’ve all brought something back.” Then she slipped into her room, allowing the dressing gown to fall to the floor before she climbed back into bed feeling even worse about having to make a decision than she had when she first had climbed into the bed that evening.
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