“Shh,” I hiss, jabbing a finger in her direction and earning myself a glare of feigned innocence. “Don’t say it. Don’t use that word, Tanith. You know it hurts me.”
“Training,” she says, and I make a sound like a dying animal, glancing at the swarthy sword on my bedside table that’s taunting me with the promise of strident blows. “In Hell Hole ... or whatever it is you call that place.”
It didn’t have a name, but it does now.
“I’m going back to sleep,” I mutter, sandwiching my head between two pillows. “Maybe forever.”
I consider the implications of spiking my offering with something that makes Rhordyn suffer just as much as I am.
Fucking Ebonwood sword. That thing’s loud, heavy ... Ihateit. It makes Petrified Pine seem like paper in comparison.
“You can’t go back to sleep. I’ve also been instructed to ensure you get some sunshine.”
“From who?” I ask, my words muffled by the pillow.
The question is a little acidic, I’ll admit.
“The High Master himself. He said if you complain, I’m to remind you that he owns the roof, and is quite within his rights to remove it should you abuse its privileges.”
Andhe’sabout to find out what happens when you overdose on senna.
Peeling the pillow back, I peep out the window at the hazy clouds drifting past. “But it’s not even sunny.” I breathe deep, scenting the promise of a shower on the breeze ruffling my curtains. “In fact, it’s going to rain.”
Tanith shoves the balcony door open and scans the sky, fists pinned to her hips. “Then you best get out there fast.”
Think I’d rather stay right here where I don’t have to see anyone. Especially not bull-headed males who refuse to let me dive to the bottom of the pond and retrieve the swords we lost the other day—swords that were adreamcompared to the new ones. Yes, Selkies are scary, but in my very biased opinion, the reward far outweighs the risk of losing my toes.
Sighing, I glare at the thing ...
Tanith prances toward the bed and whips my blanket off, exposing me to a slap of cold. “Up!”
“Ugh ...”
I toss the pillow at her, earning a laugh as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Unraveling the long, golden plait hanging heavy over my shoulder, I wander outside and lean against the balustrade, getting my prescribed dose ofnon-sunwhile looking down on the world. On gardens churning with people dressed in not only the signature black garb of the West, but also rust-colored cloaks of the East and a few dark blue tunics of the South.
“I think I’ve lost track of the days. Is the Tribunal today?”
“This morning,” Tanith calls, bundling my sheets. “But a Conclave is being held this afternoon, remember? And the ball is tomorrow.”
My heart plummets.
I take a few steps around my balcony, past Limp Leaf and over a branch of my wisteria, gaze dropping to the ships grouped within Bitten Bay’s watery smile. I count twenty-four in total, made up of three flotillas, the largest consisting of dull brown ships with open-mouthed lizards protruding from their bows.
A smaller fleet anchored further in the bay is made of several black, sturdy-looking boats, their hulls wide and sitting low in the water. The third group—the minority—are white and sleek with slender hulls made for cutting through rough water, navy blue sails wrapped around their masts.
I look through the window to the mannequin, untouched since I tossed my throw over it, and frown at the glimpse of blood-red silk spilling across the floor.
Well, shit.
“Your sheets are clear. You should start feeling more yourself,” Tanith calls out.
“That’s something,” I mutter, returning my attention to the cluster of people exploring the lush castle grounds. Smellingmyroses. Pickingmyflowers.
Frowning, I focus on a woman with long, raven locks as she plucks a salmon-colored rose from the bush I grew from a seed.
“Why do they always targetPeachie?”
