The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(17)

The flower sparked tiny embers of shimmering diamond. Harmless and delightful.

“Many of you arrived here tonight anticipating an announcement. The rumors are true. In two days’ time, we will begin The Bride Tournament—a festival of magical abilities, grace, elegance, and intelligence.”

Ellie heard the baritone words but didn’t bother to search the dais for the crown prince. She wasn’t entering. The crowd jostled and several stood on their tiptoes to see the prince. Their brocaded bodies squished together, crumpling petticoats.

She couldn’t look away from the little flower as it sparkled in the ballroom. Her vision tunneled as the golden effervescence twinkled.

“Only those of noble blood may enter, and as tradition dictates, they must possess magical abilities.”

The flower bobbed as if in laughter. She stepped closer.

“The Tournament will span ten days, and on the last night, our future queen will be chosen. We will celebrate her triumph as a kingdom in our Citadel with a lavish wedding. Everyone is welcome to attend.”

A gong sounded somewhere in the distance.

“And now, a few words from my son, the crown prince.”

Her gaze stayed glued to the flower. A strange tightening sensation ran along her spine.

The flower burst. Blinding light exploded.

The pewter ring at her chest blazed hot, burning her skin. Women screamed and men rushed forward to pull people back as the dead flower smoldered. Smoke billowed to the ceiling in a cloud of black ash. Silver embers of magic spun.

She stared in horror as flaming petals plummeted to the ground. The little fires blazed an icy blue. Magic wasn’t silver or blue. Magic was gold. Always gold. The colors burned into her retinas were most definitely not gold.

The necklace seared her skin. A hand yanked her backward.

“Get away from it!” Rachel screamed.

She tumbled into her friend as the crowd channeled forward and blocked her view of the crackling flower.

“It’s gone out!” a man called to the room. At once, cheers sprang up.

“Let’s get out of here.” Rachel tugged at her.

She spun and followed her friend into the ballroom’s back serving area. “What happened?”

Rachel yanked her out of the chamber and into a darkened corner of an empty hallway.

“What. Is. That?” Rachel pointed at Ellie. A bluish glow showcased the wide set of her eyes.

Ellie glanced down.

The glow came from her. From her chest. She undid the buttons of her high-necked bodice until the luminescence of her pewter necklace was no longer muffled. “Fruitcake.”

“I repeat: What. Is. That?”

She yanked out the chain and tested the temperature of the jewel embedded in the ring. The same pearly crescent from last night buzzed along the rim of pewter, slightly larger. Warm against her palm.

“It looks like the moon.” Rachel squinted and leaned closer. “It’s pretty.”

She agreed, freaked out. “Feel it, does it feel warm to you?”

Rachel grazed her fingers along the metal circle. “Oh! It’s ice-cold.”

She narrowed her eyes at Rachel. It was one thing to say lukewarm or cool, but cold? “It doesn’t feel hot to you?”

“No, you?”

“It’s warm in my palm.” Ellie hefted the feather-weight jewel. “The pearly center, like a moon crescent, didn’t exist until last night.”

She recalled Gerard’s reaction to it. He’d seemed in awe of the opalescent quality. And what it rested against. The memory of his hot gaze sent shivers of desire through her blood.

“How did you do that?” Rachel asked; glancing between Ellie’s face and the iridescent jewel.

“Do what?” She shifted in her slippers, the oak floor hard and unyielding under her feet.

“Explode the enchanted flower.”

“What?” Ice sparked under her hot skin at Rachel’s serious expression. “I didn’t do that. Rachel, I don’t have magic.”

“You had to have done something. You stared at the petals for long minutes, unresponsive. I’m surprised no one else noticed it,” Rachel said. “And it’s not as if the creator of the vines exploded only one flower. He’s good, but not that good. The intense focus it would take to burst one tiny section of the entire creation is beyond our capabilities.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were the only one paying attention to that singular flower. One second it danced and twirled in time to the others, and the next…,” Rachel whispered frantically, dragging her further into the dark hallway.

The excited twitters of the crowd had quieted to a gentle thrum of voices and music. Ellie finished her friend’s sentence with a stab of alarm. “It exploded.”

“Yes.” Rachel plunged her fingers into her bonnet and toyed with escaped brown curls.

Ellie removed her own head-covering, hot and sweaty.

“The magic was silver and blue, like your necklace.”

“But magic is gold, always gold.” Ellie undid her bun and let her hair tumble down her back. She wound her fingers through the strands in a pensive nervousness.

“Not the old magic.” Rachel burst on a gasp. “Oh, Ellie, you performed old magic.”

“Impossible.” Ellie froze, hands tangled in her hair. No one had taught her how to perform magic, let alone the old kind, the natural kind. Besides, she’d need a powerful conduit—