“Will I need to go ask one of the guards?” I ask finally.
Cora’s cheeks brighten. “Of course not, Your Highness. Forgive me. I’ll explain—”
“No,” Tilly says in a tone of defeat. “I will. See, most challenges are just fights over territory or mines, and afterward the loser yields and has to give up whatever the challenger wanted. Challenges for the throne are different, though.”
She doesn’t elaborate on her own, of course, forcing me to urge her on. “How so?”
“Because if no one yields, well, the challenges can be to the death.”
Horrible as it sounds, I’m not that surprised. Even in Vasna, a fight could go wrong, couldn’t it?
“And,” Cora adds, sharing a nervous look with Tilly, “if a death does occur, all possessions go to the winner.”
Tilly bites her lip. “Including mates.”
Now they’re looking straight at me in a frozen panic. I think they expect some explosive reaction, for me to yell or demand they tell me more. But explosions aren’t helpful, and I’ve heard all I need. With the utmost calmness, I fold the blankets back.
“Cora,” I say, “I need you to fetch Hiln, please.”
The girl’s eyes skip from Tilly back to me. “Would you like breakfast first, Your Highness?”
“No thank you.”
Without another word, she dashes to the door and disappears. I feel Tilly’s gaze on me as I ease my legs out of bed. If I move slow, the stiffness shouldn’t be too bad.
“Where are these challenges held?” I ask.
She hesitates. “At The Pit. It’s a dried up lake bed in the desert, or that’s what they say it was. It’s always just been a big hole.” There’s a great deal of rustling as she wrestles herself and her gown out of the blankets to crawl my way. “Oh, Serah, you’re not thinking of going there?”
I brush my hair back from my face. “I am not staying in this room while my freedom hinges on a fight in a hole.”
“Soren isn’t going to lose, Serah. I promise.”
I want to share her confidence, and maybe I would if he hadn’t come here and treated me with such coldness. If I’m honest with myself, I may be angrier at that than this whole challenge business.
Most frustrating of all, I’m actually worried about him, not that he deserves any of my worry after the way he acted.
While I wait for Hiln, I go to my dressing room. The king did have my things delivered, as he said, and I quickly locate my two goatskin canteens. To my relief, I also find my telescope in the same straw-filled crate I packed it in. I take the canteens to the bathing chamber, fill them at the tub, and leave them in a corner.
Returning to the side of the bed, I stay there until Hiln arrives, and when she does, barking at the maid behind her for treading on her heels, I make my intention clear.
“I am going to go see His Majesty.”
She sweeps a critical eye over my injuries. “In The Pit?”
“Yes. Will you dress me accordingly?”
The ornery woman studies me, and I meet those hard eyes with unflinching resolve until the faintest of smiles creeps over her lips.
“I will, Your Highness.”
4
I leave my rooms with my head held high and my twin canteens sloshing against my hips.
Guards are waiting just outside the door, of course—three, rather than the usual two—and after a split second of shock at my walking brazenly by them, they leap into action.
“Your Highness,” the first one to spring in front of me begins, but his voice dwindles away as he takes in my appearance.
