Chapter 27 Isi
ISI
Dawn’s sunlight poked through the shades, stabbing me in the eyes.
I nudged back the covers, swung my legs over the mattress’s edge, and sat for a moment, elbows on my knees, pressing my palms against my eyes until stars bloomed behind them.
With a sigh, I shoved my hair off my face and stared around the room.
It shouldn’t feel special. It wasn’t anywhere near as nice as my suite back home.
But this room was always assigned to a bonded recruit. A warrior. This room felt earned.
Even if my companion had flown away from me.
As expected, I’d slept horribly, though I could barely remember falling asleep.
My dreams had been warped echoes of the Rite.
Blood on my palms, roots coiling around ankles, Jaxon’s final breath as he lay on the ground coated in honey.
No matter how tightly I curled, no matter how deep I pressed my arms into my chest, I couldn’t shut the memories out.
And when I wasn’t dreaming of the danger, I kept picturing myself beneath Trew. On top of Trew. Splayed out on a desk while he…
My growl ripped through the room.
My body ached in strange places, my muscles tight from too little rest and too much adrenaline. The Rite hadn’t just tested our strength, it had stripped us to the bone.
This chamber sat high in the castle’s upper floors, a rectangular room of cool white stone.
Rich tapestries softened the walls, depicting scenes of beasts in meadows, wings half-spread, horns glinting in sunlight, their eyes full of intelligence.
The floor beneath my feet had been constructed of smooth stone.
The torches on the walls lit while I watched, burning with a steady, golden glow.
Slipping off the bed, I padded into the bathing room.
The water that magically chugged from the sink faucet felt cold enough to bite.
I didn’t hesitate before dousing my face, letting it shock my skin and drip down my neck in rivulets.
It cleared nothing. The gaping hole behind my sternum yawned wider.
My teeth clacked together, my skin quivering along with them.
I didn’t retreat. Let it freeze out my grief. Let it numb my guilt. Let it make me forget all about how wonderful Trew had tasted. I’d made it through the trials. I was now part of the rebels. They couldn’t toss me out of their court.
Unless bonded warriors needed their companions.
It didn’t matter. I wasn’t only grieving my sister’s murder, I was surviving. I had a purpose that did not require a companion.
I pulled my nightshirt over my head and tossed it into the woven basket along one wall. After grabbing a small cloth and wetting it beneath the water, I started washing.
It didn’t take long to give myself a quick bath, and after blotting myself dry with the towel, I returned to the room, striding over to open the wardrobe, though I only possessed the few outfits I’d brought with me.
Simple tunics and pants, all too big for me since they’d belonged to the guard.
Not even a dress or pretty shoes. I hadn’t wanted anything about me to shout princess, and who would wear a dress to take down a murderer?
I’d dropped my bag by the door when I arrived, but someone must’ve put my things away.
I opened the wardrobe and gaped at the rows of finely tailored garments. Training leathers, form-fitting pants, and rich tunics in all sorts of colors and all in my size.
Someone had left these here for me.
I ran my fingers down a set of training gear made in midnight black, reinforced at the joints, and oiled until the leather gleamed like the richest of stones. The tunic was light but sturdy, and when I lifted it, the scent of leather filled my lungs.
It reminded me so much of home and my training with Commander Thorne that tears stung the backs of my eyes.
I tossed the tunic onto the bed but paused with my fingers on the pants, my heart leaping as my gaze dropped to the floor of the wardrobe.
Boots and shoes. A row of them in a variety of colors, dyed to match the outfits above. Even black boots that were a perfect match for the leather outfit I’d selected.
The hairs on my arms lifted.
Silence pressed in around me, and I slanted my eyes to the chamber door. Closed. Still latched. A simple iron bolt blocking entry.
My pulse kicked against my ribs.
“Trew didn’t creep into your room like a winged fairy delivering pretty clothing,” I told myself.
But the clothing had not been inside this wardrobe when I arrived. I would’ve seen it.
Lexie said no one had delivered clothing to her room.
It had to be him.
Heat surged along my spine, a strange, twisting thing. It curled low in my belly, sharper than comfort, colder than want. My breath came too fast.
Swallowing hard, I dressed in the black leathers. Braided my hair. And pulled on a pair of boots.
Because they were mine now.
My friends and I went to breakfast, even Maddox joining us this time, though he remained apart from the group, and sullen. He ate without replying to whoever spoke to him.
Though my stomach rebelled at the thought of food, and every bite felt like work, I made myself nibble on a slice of bread with butter and jam.
Beside me, Bryson spoke to Kerralyn. She laughed, the sound as delicate as falling snow. Across the table, Maddox tore into his meal like it had wronged him, his eyes full of quiet fire. No one mentioned Jaxon or Fara.
There were six of us now. No longer eight. We’d survived the Rite of Bonds, and made it out of the jungle with breath still in our lungs and blood still moving through our veins.
We left the dining hall together, walking through the eastern corridor in pairs.
The stone underfoot had been etched with a winding pattern that glowed faintly as we passed, the light fading the moment we’d moved on.
Faelights floated near the ceiling, casting a dreamy, watchful glow.
Even at this quiet hour, the magic of this place hovered around us.
Kerralyn’s sleek-furred mole rode on her shoulder, sniffing the air whenever someone else passed. With her nose buried in a book, Kerralyn reached up absently to stroke his spine.
Beau scampered beside Bryson, getting under his feet, nearly tripping him until Bryson scooped him up and held him underneath his arm, Beau’s little feet dangling.
Each of my friends had not only bonded with an enormous beast, but they’d also made true friends with their beasts’ shifted companion.
I walked alone.
The others didn’t say anything about my missing minxpip. They didn’t have to. The void beside me said enough. Every empty step echoed louder for it.
The castle had expectation built into it. Like every wall and doorway had been carved with the knowledge that only the worthy would pass. Even the sunlight that managed to break through the glass felt heavy.
And I… I wasn’t sure what I was anymore. Not quite a princess. Not quite a sister bound by vengeance.
And not quite a rebel.
I’d grown up in a rival court and was taught to fear and condemn the people living in this castle and the surrounding villages.
But how could I condemn the people I cared about?
Rebel. The word curled around my tongue. It was the kind of word we’d been taught to spit, not say. A rebel was a traitor. A threat. A destroyer of peace.
But now I wondered—peace for whom?
It was easy to name someone a rebel when you sat on the side that wrote the rules.
Harder when you were the one chained beneath them.
And maybe that was what gnawed at me now, what made my chest feel tight and strange.
Because if I peeled back the layers of what made someone a rebel, I’d find rage, loss, a refusal to bow.
How far was I from the same?
Maybe the difference wasn’t a matter of loyalty. It could be timing. Or silence. Or luck.
If I tumbled down the wrong side of the word rebel, would anyone catch me?
At the end of a long corridor, we stepped inside the training hall that had been built from huge stone slabs bound together by iron plates.
A simple white ceiling rose two stories above, and our voices and footsteps echoed as we walked over to join the other warriors waiting to find out what happened next.
Weapon racks gleamed on the walls, holding blades, staffs, bows, and strange implements I’d seen before but didn’t have names for.
Training mats had been spread out in the middle of the room.
Built to hold at least a hundred, the training hall now housed thirty-seven, all of us survivors. Sixty-four had walked into the realm to compete in the trial, and only a few more than half had made it through. What a colossal waste of dedication, hope, and potential.
The air inside felt nice and cool, either from the thick stone walls keeping the heat out or it was magically enhanced.
It would be easier to train here than in the stuffy tower room where Commander Thorne had patiently showed me one move after another, watching and guiding my hands and my feet until the exact position had been mastered.
My team remained around me, but I still felt like a ghost.
I wondered if he’d be here, then told myself I shouldn’t care. That what happened between us, what we’d let happen, had been a lapse. A flashfire sparked by the moment.
But my traitorous body refused to listen. My skin could already sense his proximity, my breaths shortening as anticipation shot through me.
I wasn’t ready to see him. Not with the memory of his lips still warming mine. My pulse still pounded at the thought of how gently he’d held me.
Scanning the room, I searched for him anyway.
“If I could have your attention.” Malcolm Reid strode out of a door along the right wall and walked over to stand in front of the group, his dark leathers scarred from use. His companion, a sinewy black ferret, draped lazily across his shoulders, its nose twitching.