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I recognize the jewelry because Vaeront had something similar at the treaty meeting with the royals. The chain holds rectangular gold plates of varying sizes. The biggest one in the middle is about two inches in length, and somewhere inside it, there’s a tiny chip of the gem. The metal acts as a conduit, and anyone in contact with the necklace can’t use their power.
Which means I won’t be able to heal Ro or myself if we get injured.
I can handle pain, but Ro shouldn’t have to endure any more misery than she already has.
I step back when Armand tries to put the collar on me. “You’re just going to throw in random requirements to our bargain after we’ve already made it?”
“It’s a rule of my game—anyone who plays must wear the necklace. Your strength is being tested. The competition is about you, not your power.”
“My ability isn’t destructive or defensive. I can’t hurt anyone with it.”
“I’m aware,” Armand says with a smirk.
I didn’t tell him what my power is, but it’s not surprising that he knows. When he studied me through that magical magnifying glass, I’m sure he got a glimpse of many things. Personal things. He probably knows way too much about me, including my weaknesses.
Armand lifts the necklace toward me, and this time, I snatch it from him. “I’ll put it on myself.”
“Fine, fine.” Satisfied with my compliance, he backs off.
When the clasp at the nape of my neck clicks into place, I observe the fact that it can’t be unhooked without help. There’s a little keyhole I can feel with my finger. This thing isn’t coming off until Armand unlocks it.
I turn to Ro. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be extra vigilant about making sure you don’t get hurt. I’m one of the best fighters in all of Valora.” My eyes cut to Armand. “I’m allowed to bring my weapons, right? Don’t tell me you’re going to confiscate them.”
“Of course you can keep them. What kind of monster would I be if I let you go in there unarmed? Take everything you have on, even that sad sack of food.”
“And proper clothing for Ro,” I demand. When he raises his eyebrows at my uncompromising tone, I insist, “You’ve made a couple extra requests. This is mine. She will be covered.”
Sighing as if it’s a huge inconvenience, he turns to Yugo. “Get the woman something to wear?”
After leaving, Yugo returns surprisingly fast with a robe that looks a lot like Armand’s. I take the brown garment from his hands, and I frown as I hold it out in front of me.
First of all, it’s not Ro’s size. It’s way too big. Also, it’s made from rough burlap material. So stiff and scratchy. Not fit for a queen’s delicate skin.
“Something wrong?” Armand asks, and his taunting tone suggests he’s getting a kick out of every single displeasure he causes me.
I imagine punching him in the face. If I hit him just right, my fist is big enough to give him a black eye, a bloody nose, and a busted lip all in one blow.
Maybe I could take it a step further and snap his arm. Unless he has another Healer on hand, he’d be in pain until I can get back to fix him. Seems like that would make things a bit more fair.
What would the consequences be? Would he call off the deal? I don’t think he’s allowed to do that. We both swore on the amulet, but I never promised I wouldn’t maim him a little.
Before I can make a decision about retaliation, Ro takes the clothing from me and slips it around her shoulders. The sleeves are too long for her, so she just rolls them a few times until they’re bunched around her wrists. She buttons the front, but the neckline is wide and her shoulders are narrow, so the material keeps falling off to one side, exposing her upper arm. The bottom hem pools around her feet.
I’m not happy about any of it, but it’s better than not having clothing at all.
“Remove the chains,” I command. “And give her shoes.”
As if Yugo anticipated this request, he lifts two boots he’d been hiding behind his back. They’re huge and heavy. Probably not as big as the ones I wear, but certainly too large for Ro.
“Do you have anything less clunky?” I ask. “If she needs to run for her life, those will prevent her from doing so.”
Yugo shrugs. “This is all we have to offer.”
I’m not sure I believe him. The shoes he’s wearing are soft and leathery, almost like socks with laces.
“I’ll go without them,” Ro says softly. “I’m used to being barefoot.”
“See? She’s fine.” Armand tosses a key to me.
