I hated it. I hated that I hated it. Hated that it was controlling me.
But tonight, Bran told me I wouldn’t have training. It was the first day of the Vargothi.
I was starting to get anxious. A week had passed—most of which Iwas unconscious because of the altitude—and I still didn’t know what Hael looked like.
But after today, I’d finally know who he was. I could start tracking him, learn his routine, see who he spoke with and who he avoided. I’d finally get to put a face to who I was hunting.
I didn’t want to think about what Dahes would do if I returned without any weaknesses. Ihadto figure it out.
Failing wasn’t an option.
Bran picked out my outfit today. He made it abundantly clear that my fashion sense was nonexistent and that the Vargothi was the event of the century—literally and figuratively. I was wearing a cream gown that hung off my shoulders by gemmed beads, and various golden jewels lined the entire bodice that made walking without making a sound impossible.
“Don’t you want to see what you look like?” he asked.
I glanced down at the bodice again. It was cut low enough to glimpse the top of my cleavage, but I surprisingly didn’t hate it. The material was tight, and although it clung to me, it wasn’t transparent like the gowns Dahes would force me to wear. It felt like the perfect blend between showy and conservative.
“I can see the dress just fine,” I responded before meeting his gaze.
“I meant in a mirror.” He rolled his eyes.
Oh—OH. I shook my head. “No.”
His gaze narrowed. “Why?”
Because I didn’t want to see my eyes. I didn’t want to see the blue band around my irises. No one in Viven would know that it wasn’t a part of my natural gray coloring, but I could glimpse it in Dahes’ own pupils to know that my own had changed.
And the moment I saw them, I would know they weren’t the same from when I was fifteen, making a deal with the devil.
And beyond the physical proof that Dahes owned me, I didn’t want to see the mental toll. I wasn’t ready to know how much I had aged, to see how much life had drained from me over the past seven years. I wasn’t ready to know I wasn’t the same anymore, and that meanthewouldn’t be the same either.
It hurt too much.
“I don’t care what I look like.”
It was a lie. I knew it, and I was pretty sure Bran knew it too, but he just shrugged before walking out of the room.
I was familiar with the walk we were taking. Going there three times a day, it was the first thing I had memorized about the castle. “Why are we going to the dining room?” I asked Bran as he guided me down the familiar hallways. “I thought the tournament was starting today.”
“It is,” he said, not stopping to respond. If I hadn’t known he was a commoner without any powers, I would have thought his Token was agility, because I was constantly struggling to keep up with him. I couldn’t even blame it on the altitude poisoning anymore. I was feeling great. Better than great. But Bran walked like a Tallik was chasing him. “You’re dining with King Elion. The Vargothi starts after breakfast.”
I entered the dining room early for once, courtesy of Bran waking me up before the suns to get me ready. Elion was at the table with Cash, and my heart stopped when I noticed the drakin next to him. In the nine meals I’d had so far—now ten—I only shared four of them with him, and I had no idea why my stomach was doing somersaults seeing him now. He didn’t talk to me. He never acknowledged me or anyone for that matter. Whenever the king spoke to him, he’d answer, but other than that, he was reserved. He ate his meal in silence, barely bothering to even look around the table, and usually left the second it ended.
Completely unlike Cash who was unabashed and outspoken and made a habit of staring at me during every meal.
“You look divine in my clothes,” King Elion crooned, as he eyed me. “Vivenian fashion suits you.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I took my usual seat to his right. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest, and I swore the jewels on my gown were rattling because of it. The drakin rider was staring at me—and he wasn’t looking away.
I was used to always being watched by Dahes, but I’d never had somany eyes on me at once. Back in Moriann, I was invisible to everyone else, except Dahes.
But here, I couldn’t blend in. Besides Elion putting me on a pedestal and flaunting me during these meals, I was the runaway from Moriann. The only person to ever escape Dahes.
Which wasn’t even true. It was all a lie. No one could escape Dahes—especially not me.
“Are you excited for the tournament, Nollie?” King Elion asked as I started filling my plate with fruits and pastries.
“I am.” He was watching me as I took a bite of a coral-colored fruit. A sticky sweetness immediately flooded my tongue as I bit into the skin, and it took everything in me to keep paying attention to the king.
