Carnivores.
They sucked strength from blood and tore sustenance from flesh.
I stared at her, watching for the twitch of muscle, the shift of weight that might signal an attack. She stood to the side and bowed her head, hands folded before her, motionless. Like a well-trained dog awaiting command. I would starve before I willingly kept them fat and powerful.
“What is your name?” I clutched the furs tighter around myself.
No response.
“Where are my clothes?”
Dark irises flicked up, then she jerked her chin toward the tray.
Anger scraped my throat raw. I wanted to shout, to rattle the invisible bars of this cage, but fury would serve them, not me. Pleasantness would win more friends than rage, and I needed allies in this kingdom built on teeth.
“I would prefer to eat fully clothed.” I lowered my tone, softening each word until it slipped between us like silk instead of steel.
She drew a slow breath. Her shoulders rose and fell, as if weighing risk against instruction. After a thick swallow, she opened the dresser and withdrew a dress.
Black. Not velvet, not satin. Something matte and lightless, like a starless sky. A high collar climbed toward the throat. Long sleeves. A trailing hem meant to drown ankles. It covered as much skin as possible. No embroidery or crest. No sign of my status or mantle.
For now, I was only a commoner, aguest, as Egath put it.
A shiver moved across my bones despite the warmth of the chamber. Surely if I met with the king, it would be as Queen of Radaan, not a trinket to be traded between hands.
She helped me dress. Layers slipped over my head in soft waves. The fabric whispered against my ribs as she drew it down. Laces tightened across my back, each pull stealing breath. Her fingers were cold against my neck while she fastened the row of tiny buttons along my spine, one by one, each press a quiet claim.
Somehow I felt more exposed than when Egath had seen me bare as the day I was birthed.
“My mantle is cared for?”
She brushed my hair aside and smoothed the last button into place. No answer.
My patience chafed at her silence. I would not sit idle and wait for Tallon, or worse, to come claim me. A plan had to take shape. An escape. A misstep I could exploit.
The woman stepped aside and gestured to the tray.
I sat on the edge of the bed instead.
Her wide eyes snapped to mine, and I offered her a small smile, brittle as sun-bleached coral. “I’m not hungry after all.”
She stiffened. Color drained from her already pale face. Hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles blanched. Her gaze dropped to the floor again, shoulders rigid with fear.
It was warm, thick air pressing against my lungs. The long dress trapped heat along my skin. Sweat gathered at the base of my spine, and I picked at the hem of my sleeve, glancing at the high window. It stood far above reach, but sunlight poured through, pale and indifferent. The chamber held no tub, no dressing room, no comforts.
Were they trying to humble me?
Silence stretched thin between us. I didn’t bother to ask questions or press for information. She wasn’t at liberty to speak to me, and her employer was obviously more terrifying than I was.
The door pushed open.
I swallowed a gasp and turned as Tallon limped into the room. I let my smirk curl deep at my mouth, gaze falling to the foot he favored. His complexion looked sallow, skin stretched tight over bone. Egath followed, a small box in hand, shoulders held stiff as if he weren’t completely at ease beside the prince.
“I see you’ve finally roused.” Tallon grinned, making his way toward me.
I kept my smile polite, measured. “How’s your stab wound?”
He dropped onto the bed and propped his injured foot on his knee. “Did you think to poison me? I’m not a fool. I know the blades of the kingsguard.”
