Page 72 of Feralheart

The woman closest to me blinked before meeting the gaze of one of the others.

“Turn around,” the second one snarled, smacking my shoulder.

I did as they asked.

To them, we weren’t people; we were inventory to be inspected and discarded if our flaws ran too deep.

One of them studied the red lines on my palms. “What are these?”

Another sniffed. “Dye from her work.” Her attention fell on me, and she raised her voice. “You work with the dyes, girl?” She turned away before I could answer.

“Should we cover them?” another asked.

“The high-necked dress will hide her arms well enough. It’s not like anyone will pay much attention to her.”

“She’s pretty enough. They might.”

The other woman sniffed and kept scrubbing.

My fellow commons sent me a wavering smile from where she sat in the other tub. Her face had paled even further, and goosebumps covered her exposed shoulders. A servant scraped at her back hard enough she winced.

“Too thin,” the servant said. Not to the blonde woman. To one of the other servants. “This one won’t last.”

“None of them will.”

From the other side of the screen, a man’s voice rang out.

“Name’s Reece. Reece Corros.”

The other man spoke, though quieter. “Kerrel Farnwad.”

“Good to meet you, Kerrel.” Reece’s voice held that forced steadiness fathers used when they were trying to keep children from panicking. He must be the gray-bearded man who’d made it through the initial trials. “You did well out there. Getting through the fire canyon was…something.”

Kerrel didn’t answer.

The silence stretched until the other woman broke it from our side. “I’m Lyndie.” Her voice came out bright, like she was introducing herself at a market stall. “Lyndie Smite.”

Her posture took on an odd slant, almost formal, before she slouched her shoulders forward.

“Eradin Carver,” I said.

One of the servants waved for me to stand and draped a thick cloth over my shoulders and back. “Dry yourself.”

I stepped out and did. The cloth smelled of lye and was stiff enough to leave my skin raw.

They pried the cloth from my hands and made me stand with my arms at my sides. Naked. While they checked my scalp, my ears, and behind my knees. Looking for nits, maybe. Or making sure every part of me had been sufficiently humiliated.

Water dripped from my long hair onto the stone floor, splattering my shins. My mind wasn’t here but back in the arena with Lykor, tremors rolling through his body while I pressed my palm to his burned wing. It was in our cottage, where Tolross was probably awake despite the late hour, struggling to breathe because that’s what he did when he was scared.

Father would be standing at the window. Or gone to bed, needing to rest before heading to the mines in the morning.

“You,” one of the servants said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Arms up.”

I raised my arms and breathed through their examination. Made myself be livestock. It was easier than being a person.

From the other side of the screen, Reece’s voice echoed again. “Can I ask why you entered the trial?”

“Money,” Kerrel said. “Enough to leave and go where no one knows me.”