Page 87 of Feralheart

I opened it and sniffed. Burn salve. The expensive kind that cost a week of wages.

The difference didn’t make sense. Why would they give me more?

I set the jar aside and examined the rest. Food enough for three days if I stretched it. Water for two. And two sets of riding leathers that actually looked like they’d fit.

“This is wonderful.” Lyndie turned the tin of salve in the light. “They’re taking care of us. Making sure we have everything we need to compete.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s…kind of them.” Kindness never came without an ulterior motive, and I’d bet anything our wonderful supplies were just enough to show they made the effort, but nowhere near what the elite riders would carry.

She set the tin down and started tucking her supplies back into the bag.

“Did you enjoy the ball?” she asked, not looking up.

“No.”

“I thought it was beautiful.” She paused, her fingers stilling on a leather tunic. “I haven’t—” Her swallow took too long to go down, and she finished it off with a bright smile. “Did you see Fenian? He looked handsome in his formal wear.”

The casual way she said his name made my spine stiffen.

“He was watching you,” she said, still organizing supplies. “I noticed him following you when you left.” Her eyes flicked up. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

“That’s good.” Her smile never wavered. “It wouldn’t do to get involved with the elite. Not when we have a race to survive.”

I pulled the scale from my pocket and turned it over in my hands. The heat from it had settled to a steady pulse.

“What’s that?” She slid off her bed and took a step closer.

I snapped my hand closed around it. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I’m going to get ready for bed.”

I slid it back into my pocket and went to the washbasin, keeping my back to her. When I glanced in the small mirror above the basin, I found her still watching me.

“Your foot,” she said. “The left one. That’s the one that was injured in the fire maze, right?”

I froze, my fingers beneath the water. “How did you know which foot?”

“You were limping.”

I shut off the water, dried my hands, and turned to face her. “You’re right. I was.”

She held up her tin of salve. “Let me help with that foot. I’m good with burns.”

“I can manage.”

“But you don’t have to.” Her gaze narrowed on my supplies still lying on my bed. “They gave you a good supply. More than what I got, but they must’ve seen you limping too. You should use it.”

“I’ll take care of it later.”

She sucked in a breath, and her shoulders fell.

“No problem.” She returned to sit on her bed and started unlacing her boots. “The race starts at dawn. We need to rest.”

She settled into her blankets. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.