The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(32)

The young lady grinned. “Best of luck.”

“You as well.” Ellie nodded.

Bong!

Like a cloud of falling feathers, sheaves of paper tumbled from the ceiling in controlled lines. Each stack plopped onto a desk. Thud.

“You may begin.” The king smiled.

Ellie had never paid attention to what the royals looked like. The acute tilt of Gerard’s head as he examined the hex victims paralleled his father’s nod to the crowd. So, that’s where his broader than broad frame comes from…

Paper shuffled in the room. Women scribbled across the thin parchment, plumed pens fluttering. The top leaf of paper was plain cream, no writing. She flipped open the thick booklet and stared at the first question.

A mare is to a gelding as a lady is to…

She dipped her feathered pen in ink and scribbled: eunuch. Sneaking a look at the last page, she sighed. One down…nine hundred and ninety-nine more to go.

Hours passed.

Long, tedious hours in which her hand cramped seventeen times. She made forty-eight spelling mistakes, was finally thankful for her extensive knowledge on animal anatomy, and discovered that if you hold your pee long enough…it dissipates and you don’t have to go anymore.

The lady who’d wished Ellie luck scuffled to her feet, picked up her exam pamphlet, and cautiously edged to the front of the room. Ellie leaned into the aisle and watched as she dropped her test into a simple wooden box.

A flourish of golden sparkles shimmered several feet high and formed a three-digit number: 971.

Ellie closed her eyes and let loose and inaudible groan. They post your score? For everyone to see? She checked her progress. Stalled at number 873.

Another hour passed in a fury of scratches, scribbles, scrawls, and tears. Soon several more girls brought their tests forward and dropped them into the box. Scores, none as high as the first, appeared in a line, one after the other.

She finished her exam and pictured dropping it into the box to reveal her score. A headache pounded behind her eyelids in a most discomforting fashion. She stole a peek at Olivia, seated near the front of the room in her recognizable olive green cloak.

Fruitcake.

If stares rendered deathblows, the young lady in the sea foam mask would be nothing more than a molten pile of anatomy on the marble. Lady Olivia’s eyes burned with hatred. Ellie looked at her own test.

In favor of not drawing Lady Olivia’s attention, Ellie pretended to go over her exam as the lady in question struggled to finish. Finally, Olivia stood, smug smile exposing straight white teeth. She pranced to the wooden box and plopped her test in.

Poof.

Her score fluffed up to join the golden line of clouds: 858. Lady Olivia smiled and waltzed to the roped-off lounge with ottomans, potted ferns, idyllic indoor street lamps which glowed a hazy yellow, and a voracious offering of cakes and treats.

Ellie let a few more women go up to the box before she too retrieved her score.

Waiting for her own poof stretched on into oblivion. She tapped her foot, crossed her arms, and stared off over the dais to a darkened corner of the great hall. The sage curtain twitched and a muscled, broad-shouldered man stepped out. He wore a mask, like everyone else in the hall. But she recognized his shape, the tilt of his head—Gerard.

Poof! 932.

She coughed and hurried quickly from her high score—the second highest so far—and almost ran into the woman in the sea foam green.

“Oh! Sorry,” Ellie whispered and ducked behind an eight-foot tall fern to hide from Lady Olivia’s glare, which burned hot and fierce.

“It’s okay. Lovely score.” The woman smiled, sincere.

Ellie reared back. “You’re happy for me.”

“Of course.” A pink blush swept across her face. “I’m not really in this to win or anything. What about you?”

The corners of Ellie’s mouth dipped. She’d assumed that every woman, aside from herself, was here for the win. “Oh, I’m not here to win, either. It would make a great story to tell my grandkids one day: back when I was young, I competed against our current queen.”

“Ha!” The woman laughed, the sound like small bells chiming. “Yes, my cousins have entered and my mother insisted that I join. ‘More chances for our family to win the crown.’”

The woman blushed at how petty her mother’s mantra sounded.

“I have some family members who say the same.” Ellie placated her with a reassuring pat on the arm.

The woman adjusted her mask and scratched her temples. “This thing itches terribly. I’ve never understood why we needed to wear them in the first place. Most of us recognize each other from balls and such. It’s so silly we’re not allowed to exchange names.”

“Well, there are a few women I don’t recognize.”

“Who?” She grinned. “I know most everyone here. Especially now that I’ve met you.”

Ellie smiled and lied. “Well, that group over there.” Stealthily, Ellie pointed to her sisters and Lady Olivia.

“Oh, I actually know them as well. Lovely women. I had tea with them this afternoon and will again tomorrow morning.”

Hiding her surprise, Ellie smiled blandly. “How do you know them?”

“MAM, our mothers are on the board together,” she said, all innocence.

Ellie’s heart froze. It was only a matter of time before Lady Olivia recognized the woman talking to Ellie, and since Ellie’s own score was high, Lady Olivia might start poking around, asking questions.