I think he's joking, but I'm noticing that it's infuriatingly hard to decipher this man's true intentions.
“Guard your heart—and your words—a little closer, Ashwalker. That's my only advice.” Those pale eyes pierce through me one last time before he turns his focus fully to the pen and parchment. “Your training begins tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Ten
When I wake up the next morning, I spend the first hour frozen in place on the comfortable bed, still trying to come to terms with the events of the past two days.
I keep closing my eyes, expecting to open them and find myself back in my shabby little room in the Burn, to be forced to feel my way through the cold and the dark like I have so many times before.
The space that actually greets me when I dare to look…it doesn't feel real.
It certainly doesn't feel comforting, either.
At least, itshouldn’t.
And yet, someone has been feeding the fireplace against the back wall, keeping me warm. Someone has left breakfast on a small table beside the bed—freshly baked bread; perfectly ripe fruit; some sort of spiced sausage that makes my mouth water. The curtains have been drawn open just enough to let the sunrise sneak in, warm light revealing aroom of understated opulence, all polished wood and soft fabrics in muted reds and golds.
My knee no longer throbs; it's wrapped in bandages that smell like peppermint and pine sap. A pain-relieving balm, I assume—though I can't actually remember anybody coming in and tending to the injury.
After years of struggling, I should be ecstatic to be this comfortable, this taken care of.
But I know Marta and the others back home aren't waking up to any of these comforts. And I doubt Briar is, either.
Thinking of them reminds me of the deals I made with the king, which finally gives me the courage to sit up. Not a moment too soon, either; as I slide my feet into the slippers by the bed, the door is thrown open.
The head maid charges into the room, brandishing a feather duster like a weapon. Elise, if I heard her correctly last night; it was a brief, tense introduction. She spent most of the few minutes we shared barking orders at younger servants while they scrubbed me raw in the adjacent bathing chamber. I'd been so exhausted I could barely stay upright, much less argue or really listen to the few words she sent my way.
“It's about damn time you decided to wake up,” she snaps. “Perhaps there are no schedules in the slums where you come from, mylady, but in this palace, we have expectations and standards to uphold. We don't tolerate laziness here.”
Irritation burns through me. I'm sure it's a frequent lie told within the walls of this palace—howlazythe ones outside of their kingdom supposedly are. Because vilifying us makes it easier for them to pretend they played no role in our misfortunes, of course.
But that isn't a conversation I particularly want to have before I've even had time to rub the sleep from my eyes. And not with the woman responsible for my food, at that; despite what Briar and Marta often claim, I actuallydopossess a modicum of self-preservation.
So I let Elise feel superior for the moment, silently enjoying my breakfast while she mutters to herself and flits around the room, dusting things that aren't dusty and rearranging things that don't appear to be out of place.
After a few minutes, she takes several items of clothing from the wardrobe in the corner and throws them down beside me. “This will have to do for now. This afternoon, we'll be taking your measurements and arranging to have some proper clothing made for you, so that your appearance might be a little less insulting to His Majesty. Wewouldhave done that this morning, but you were dead to the world. And now, you've got somewhere else to be—and you're already damn near late for that.”
I swallow a bite of bread so large I nearly choke on it. It's hard not to inhale the stuff; I've always loved bread, and I've rarely had any as soft and rich as this. “Where exactly am I supposed to be going?”
“You'll see soon enough, won't you?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust at the crumbs that have scattered across the silk nightgown they gave me. “Hurry up and dress. I'll be waiting outside.” With that, she leaves, slamming the door on her way out.
Sighing, I look to the window and briefly consider throwing myself out of it. It likely wouldn't kill me, though; I'm only three stories up.
Resigned to my fate, I cram one last hunk of bread into my mouth, then go to the washroom to get ready.
The pants Elise picked out fit well enough with the help of a belt. The shirt is almost comically big on my scrawny, underfed bones, but at least it's comfortable to move in. I wash my face, letting my hand linger against my ruined eye when I finish.
While my palm is flattened over that eye, I take my other hand and press my fingers to the mark Malachi and I shared. It's become a sort of ritual that I do most mornings; when I press hard enough on that mark, I can almost go back to the very moment it became a part of me. And I can feel it: the pain and the warmth and the promise it represented.
It's comforting, even now.
Taking a step back, I gather my hair toward the nape of my neck, loosely securing it with a decorative ribbon that I ripped from a throw pillow on the bed—a messy look that will beinsulting to His Majesty, I hope—and then I join Elise outside.
She gives my appearance a derisive once-over. But she makes no comment on it, only starts down the hall, beckoning me to follow.
Furtive gazes follow me everywhere we go, most caught somewhere between nervous curiosity and suspicion. The wordsdragonandbondedanddangerous outsiderare whispered more than once. Despite this less-than-warm reception, I attempt to mold my expression into something amiable and calm, and I move as if I belong here—because the more people I can convince of that, the easier things will be for me.
Elise leads me down to the first floor, then toward what I think is the back of the main palace; it's difficult to orient myself, between her quick pace and the maze of corridors that all blend together. We ultimately head outside, thendown a short, wide path that leads to a coliseum that's separated from the palace itself, but appears no less extravagant.
