Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Neither Mara nor Beckham returned to me, which meant that no one bothered to bring me supper that night or breakfast the next morning, or anything else, for that matter.
I tugged on the doors to confirm that I was still locked inside.
It was just like the times I’d angered the king and he’d left me to starve, but even then, I was still allowed occasional visits from servants.
This felt different. I was more of an afterthought than the focal point of a punishment. It truly seemed that they couldn’t spare even a single servant while preparing for what was to come. I was forgotten, and I was alone.
Well, not completely alone.
I looked down at my new iron ring, still getting used to its unfamiliar weight. I hadn’t tapped the stone since our initial tests, nor had I felt anything from Atlas, and I wasn’t sure if now was the right time to bother him.
Hunger and boredom chewed at me, tempting me to pester the prince about any of the dozens of questions that filled my head.
I was itching to know what was going on behind my doors.
Was Atlas involved in any of the preparations?
Had he learned anything about the sixth candidate?
What about the mysterious Lady Sybil? Could he bring me a biscuit?
A purple tinge crept up my right ring finger, circling the enchanted iron.
I was wondering how long it would take for the castle talisman to mark me as a magic wielder.
The purple was faint compared to the dark color that spread from my mother’s ring, but I knew it would darken over time until no one could miss it.
Atlas didn’t seem concerned about the added magic, so I wasn’t fretting yet either.
No one had dared remove my mother’s ring, and if the other competitors were allowed magic, then one new ring shouldn’t cause too much of a fuss.
If it became a problem, I could always ask Beckham to lend me the fogwrath flower I’d given him so I could remove the ring without Atlas’s assistance.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that; I didn’t want to give up the power to talk to Atlas whenever I needed. There were so many times I’d fought for an audience with the princes, and now I literally had one wrapped around my finger and couldn’t think of what to say.
I’ll just see if he’s listening…
I tapped the ring—just once, like an annoying little poke that he could have easily ignored. The ring buzzed in return, my heart jolting in response to the sudden reply.
Ok, I guess I should ask him something, then.
The mercenary cant was an easy language to tap out, but you had to spell out each individual letter, so short phrases were best. I paused for a second to consider what to say, then settled on a generic but clear question.
“When?”
I finished tapping out the word, staring impatiently at the ring as I awaited his reply. I didn’t care what he thought I was asking about, whether it was food, my servant’s return, the competition starting, or anything else. I simply needed to know when something would happen.
The ring vibrated and I focused on the letters he tapped out, only getting four.
“Soon.”
I frowned, aggravated that my broad question had received an equally broad reply. I was about to tap out a more pointed request when suddenly, the doors to my suite started to open.
The click of the lock stiffened me, and I remained frozen when a pair of guards thrust the doors open and snapped at two older women to hurry inside.
The women were dressed in the shade of red worn by Ivalonian servants, and I actually recognized them from my first night in the castle when I was retrieved from the prison.
“Thirty minutes,” a guard barked at the older ladies, who were already hustling toward me. “Get her ready.”
The door slammed shut and the women jolted into action, rushing around me frantically. Keeping an eye on them both, I tapped out a quick message into my ring.
“Now.”
I didn’t know if he replied after that, mostly because I was too distracted by the servants to pay any attention to my finger.
They had brought a simple black dress with them that was quickly stuffed over my head.
The dress was a soft cotton that would have normally only been appropriate for servants or lower-class citizens, but dye was expensive, so solid black made it land somewhere between a noble and a high-ranking commoner.
A light-blue sash was hung across my shoulder to complete the look, and I recognized the shade as Aemastia’s flag colors.
It seemed strange that I would wear Aemastia’s colors when the king detested having me on his soil, but it wasn’t as if they would permit me to wear Ivalonian red, and I’d imagine the other ladies were going to be marked with their own kingdom’s colors.
After I was dressed, the shorter of the two ladies produced a slightly bruised apple from her apron and nearly shoved it straight into my teeth.
“Eat, quickly,” she whispered, not relenting until I took a wide bite. It tasted amazing after missing two meals in a row. “You’ll need your strength, Princess.”
What?
“P-princess?” I gulped down the apple in one huge chunk, feeling the stiff fruit slide down my throat. “You’re mistaken, my friends. I was never made a princess.”
“But you would have been had our prince lived,” the second lady whispered, her wrinkled eyes firmly set on me. “And to us, you already are.” She nodded at the apple, urging me to take another bite.
I complied, barely even tasting it now as I felt smothered under their admiration. They had no idea who I truly was, yet they respected me as if they did. Perhaps, somewhere in the roots of this castle, I was still ruling over Ivalon just as I always should have.
“We’re all rooting for you, Princess.” The shorter woman bowed to me, her back only allowing her to bend a few inches. She looked back up, pride twinkling in her striking blue eyes as she whispered barely loud enough for me to hear. “Long live Ivalon.”
My heart skipped a beat, then nearly leapt out of my chest when the door burst open a second after. I dropped the apple, and one of the women scooped it up from the floor so quickly I didn’t think anyone would have even believed it was her who moved.
I wished I’d taken their advice and eaten quickly, but I was grateful for the two bites I’d managed to get in me.
The guards took me from the suite, guiding me into the halls and leading me through unfamiliar parts of the palace.
I’d spent most of my time in the more functional parts of the castle—the throne room, library, dining hall, and studies.
But I’d never really seen the more public-facing areas suited for entertaining guests.
The halls were wider and brighter at the front of the palace.
The windows were bigger, allowing the white snow to reflect light inside.
Light-blue banners that matched my sash draped over the walls, and the carpets disappeared entirely to make room for smooth stone floors that were polished enough to reflect my face.
I could hear voices as we approached our destination, and it felt strange to hear lively conversation in such a dismal place.
“This way,” the guard grumbled as he led me out of the bright halls and down a narrower one. The chatter gradually faded, telling me that I probably wasn’t entering with the rest of the spectators.
We finally made it to what appeared to be an unmarked servants’ door, and when the guard pushed it open, the voices I had heard earlier grew louder than ever.
It must have been the castle’s ballroom, but it was hard to tell because the door had opened up to a curtained-off portion of the room that kept me hidden from the rest.
“Wait here and stay quiet,” the guard instructed me, standing at attention inside the boxed-in space with me.
The curtains were hung across brass rods only ten feet high, allowing me to look up at the expansive ballroom ceiling made entirely of glass and steel.
The steel beams lined the ceiling in diamond patterns, with the glass in between glittering with a light dusting of snow.
The floors were made of granite, giving the entire space a chilly feeling that made me wish I wore a thicker dress.
The guard was looking straight ahead, so I tested my luck by sneaking a quick glimpse through the curtains.
He flicked me a glance but didn’t seem to mind once he saw that I wasn’t planning to dart out into the ballroom.
As I expected, there was an entire crowd of spectators dressed in glamorous gowns and finery.
They were all clustered in the center of the room, and when I looked to the edges of the ballroom, I could see that there were five other curtained-off spots the same size as mine.
The other competitors were already here.
Someone cleared their throat, hushing the audience and drawing all eyes to the front of the ballroom, where I could barely see past the lace and ruffles of the crowd. I stood on my toes, barely able to make out three familiar heads standing behind their father’s crown.
Looks like everyone is all here. Let the games begin.
“Welcome!” a vaguely familiar voice called out, and I remembered him as the steward who had first escorted me out of my prison. “To Aemastia’s battle of the brides.”