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31

Andrea scowled. “It’s not like I’m going to stop him if he decides to go. It’s not as if we’re dating or something.” Even if the thought of him participating in some kind of bachelor contest did make her feel grumpy. “What’s the prize, anyway?” she asked, grudgingly giving in to her curiosity.

“A date with any of the eligible women who chose to sign up as potential prizes, a red sash for any man who doesn’t have one, a small fortune in prismatic silver and a war stag. Not that Mathin needs the last.” Rihlia grimaced, tossing the end of her dark braid over her shoulder. “Bad tempered though he is, no one would argue that Mathin’s stag isn’t one of the best in the land.”

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