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Chapter 9
Now
Which fork was for salad? Shit. Marita had made me point out the utensils in a traditional place setting at least a dozen times, but under the gaze of the Board of Blood, my mind was blank. There were so many fucking forks. I don’t think my family had even owned as many forks as there were in front of me right now.This one.But before I grabbed it, I panicked.
I delicately unfolded my napkin, raising it to dab a nonexistent drop of dressing from my mouth, hoping no one would notice considering I hadn’t even touched my salad yet. I glanced around the table and took note of the fork the other Initiates chose. Had I picked up the fork I was thinking of, it would have been very wrong.
The large dining table had room for three dozen, decorated tastefully with twisted gold candelabras and white tapers. They matched the chandelier that hung above, casting the room in a honeyed light. The only sound in the room was Ludovicus’ faint humming and the clicking of his fingernails.
“We are delighted to be a part of your annual Initiation process once again,” he cooed, his deep black eyes working their way around the table. “I trust that each and every one of you fine young ladies have properly prepared?” His eyes locked with mine as he uttered the word “young.” There were a few slight nods around the table as salads were picked at and wine was sipped. He straightened, gently tugging on the lapels of his jacket. “As is tradition, we will hold formal interviews on the morrow to assess your readiness. We want to make sure you are of sound mind to take part in this honorable occasion.” His voice was spindly, thin, yet elicited a feral response in me. “A day of rest will follow, allowing you to be at your very best come Initiation Day.” He folded his hands on the table. “Let us discuss the rules. Don’t fret, as they’re very simple. Sir Anton?”
Anton started in a voice that plucked at my nerves. “You shall only speak when spoken to.” His gaze was severe, his amber eyes boring into each Initiate with unmatched intensity.
“All acts shall be done in the name of the King, the country, and the Benevolent Saints,” rasped Raolin, his voice low and oddly sultry. His red eyes glowed in the amber light of the dining hall.
Garit took a sip of his wine before speaking, his lips stained crimson. “You shall not raise a weapon, be it a hand, a fist, a knife or sword, at any time, in any way, to anyone during your Initiation.” There it was. Marita had warned me that I was not to defend myself. She never elaborated as to why, but it had been hammered into my head that I was to remain quiet and steadfast throughout the entire ritual. Hearing the words slither from Garit’s lips felt surreal. I felt the nervous energy of the room intensify.
“You shall not inhibit, infringe upon, encourage, or in any way influence another Initiate,” began Arturius, the long, sharpened nail of his pointer finger scraping quietly across the deep red tablecloth. So I’d be going through this truly alone.
“And remember,” began Ludovicus, his voice echoing off the marble floors, a chill crawling down my spine. “Should you fail Initiation, you will be immediately cast out of the city walls and barred from returning.” A faint smile danced upon his lips. My stomach churned, and I assumed the other Initiates felt the same because all forks were idle. “Or be greeted swiftly by death.”
“But why?” My mouth had let the words loose before I even realized I was speaking. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to me. I opened my mouth to apologize then closed it, sweat threatening to bead on my brow.Shit shit shit shit shit.I felt my mother and Castemont tense on either side of me, my mother‘s breaths quickening.
Ludovicus cocked his head, a predator assessing his prey. With one thin eyebrow raised, he pushed his chair back from the head of the table and stood. “Why, you ask?” Hands behind his back, he began slowly stalking toward me. No one dared look at him, but I remembered to keep his gaze, fighting back the instinct telling me to look away, to run and hide. He inched closer and closer until he was behind me and my stare was forced to break. “Please stand, Petra Castemont,” he said almost tauntingly, the emphasis on my last name dripping in sarcasm.
I removed my napkin from my lap, folded it neatly on the table and smoothed over my silky skirts as I rose, my chin high.For my family,I thought to myself, chanting Marita’s words in my mind like a war cry.For my family. For my family.I turned to face him, immediately finding his burning gaze.
“It seems the common girl has not learned how to behave. Do you agree, brothers?” he said, beginning his strut around the table again, his hands still leisurely behind his back.
“Aye,” the other members said in a monotone chorus.
“The reason we do this, sweet Petra, is to ensure the strength of the Royal Court. Do we want whiny girls birthing whiny babies? No. We want women who will better the Royal Court with every babe she births. Women who are strong. Resilient. Well-mannered, well-groomed, well-behaved.”
Each word made a heat bubble behind my rib cage that I didn’t know how to quell. Why did I have to open my mouth? “And what do we do with a girl who doesn’t know how to behave?” He stopped walking, facing me again. “Who doesn’t follow the rules?” Ludovicus looked expectantly around the room. My pulse quickened, blasting in my ears. The edges of my vision started closing in.
Silence. Stinging, hissing silence that closed in on my brain. I stayed firm, holding his stare. “Death, Petra.” His tongue curled around my name like a snake. My mouth went dry. “Girls who don’t behave face death, either at the hands of the fine brothers you see here or the teeth of the beasts that lurk in the Onyx Pass.” I wanted my mother to jump in, wished for Castemont to say something,anythingto make this man stop. “Is that what you want, Petra? Do you wish to die?”
I clenched my jaw, knowing my life hinged on the next words from my mouth. He stood across the table from me, yet the heat from his look was like burning coals to my skin. “No, Sir Ludovicus. I do not wish to die.”
He cocked his head again, a wide mouthed smile on his lips. “Ah, good. You had me worried for a moment, what with your recklessness.” I wasn’t going to die tonight, but I hadn’t relaxed yet. He began his pacing back to his seat, perching elegantly in the high backed crimson velvet chair. I remained standing, afraid to move, afraid to blink, eyes still on him. “You may sit, dear.”
I slowly lowered myself back to my seat. My mother’s hand flew to my knee under the table, clenching so hard that even through the layers of skirts, even with her delicate hands, it was painful. Breathe.I am okay.“I just despise when we must ruin such an enjoyable evening with the humdrum of real life.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Now, where were we?”
The kitchen door swung open, servers pouring in with the main dish. “Ah, yes. We are just delighted to be here.”
???
I shouldn’t have been awake. I had returned to my room after a tense tea with my mother and Castemont. For a while, no one had spoken, the silence so fragile I could almost feel its brittle edges. Castemont had presented me with a box wrapped in navy ribbon before I left for bed, telling me I didn’t have to open it then. I took that offer, just wanting to get to the privacy of my rooms so I could crumble.
The tears began the moment I closed my bedroom door and steadily increased into deep sobs that erupted from my chest. I flung the box onto a dresser in my wardrobe then collapsed onto the bed, every part of me tired. I began to feel numbness sink in after an hour and my eyes glazed over after two. I stared at the wall, clinging to a pillow that was soaked beneath my cheek.
The slightest knock on the door broke the sound of my ragged breathing. “Yes?” I choked out, needing to clear my throat to be able to raise my voice enough for the visitor to hear.
Wrena cracked the door open, poking her head through, holding a tray of milk and small biscuits. “Is there anything I can get you Petra? I noticed the candlelight under your door and thought you may still be awake.” I sat up, my lip beginning to quiver again. I opened my mouth to speak but knew if I started, the sobs would come again. I saw her note the puffiness of my eyes, the redness of my nose. “Would you like me to come in?” I nodded, dropping my head, clutching my pillow to my chest.
She took a tentative seat on the mattress next to me. “I may be overstepping, but if you’d like a friend, I am here to listen.” The softness, the sincerity of her voice made the urge to weep stronger.A friend.I hadn’t really had friends in Inkwell. I had Larka, until I didn’t.
I raised my head, assessing the stranger in front of me. I knew nothing about her aside from the fact that she grew up poor like I had. I didn’t know if she was trustworthy, if she would taunt me behind my back with the other handmaidens, if she would laugh in my face. I didn’t trust easily, not anymore. But in that moment, in that moment when I felt like the world was cracking in half under me and the sky was going to shatter into a million tiny pieces, in what could be one of the last few moments of my life, I broke.
