Chapter 5 #3
The only others who also remain seated are Zane, and the handful of additional challengers who have high-quality metal.
And Raker, who has a better sword than even the king.
When the last sword has been called down, the king walks over to the head of one of the tables. My table.
His eyes sweep across the challengers before landing on me. They narrow. His mouth is turned up in an amused smile, but his tone is cold as steel as he says, “You, girl. What kind of blade do you have that is better than my own?”
A hush settles around me. Kira tenses. For as grimy as the king is, he is the most powerful person on this side. He could order me dead, or kill me where I sit, and no one would think twice about it.
“It’s titanium, sir,” I say, keeping my voice measured. Docile, even.
He scoffs. “That would surely shatter against one of my blades. Why not take me up on my offer?”
I will my smile to be pleasant. “For my blade to shatter, someone has to block it.”
Silence.
His eyes narrow. “Silver is silver.”
“Metal is metal when it goes through skin and bone,” I say, smile tight.
Another second of silence. Two. Fuck. I should have just taken one of his damned blades. My heartbeat rattles my chest.
The king tilts his head.
I swallow, sure he’s going to call one of the remaining swords down from the wall and stab me through the throat for daring to speak back to him.
But he only turns toward another table, and I finally exhale, leaning forward. Kira sighs sharply next to me, as if she was also holding her breath.
The king finally remembers to tell us to eat, and plates screech against the tabletop as they’re dragged toward each challenger.
The room goes quiet save for the king’s voice as he sits next to challengers he has clearly deemed to be his early favorites.
Soon, guards come in to take each claimed sword and put them with the others.
I reach for everything I can, eyes on my own plate, grateful for having been forgotten.
“Can you die from eating too much?” Kira is currently lying in the center of the bed, her limbs stretched out wide.
“I feel like I’m about to burst.” She strains her neck to look at me with what looks like, from where I sit against the door, great effort.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s never been enough food in Brambleside to be full. ”
I nod. I know what that’s like.
Kira frowns. “Aren’t you going to get in bed? I can move.”
She doesn’t make a single attempt to shift to one side.
I shake my head. “No. I’m going to stay here, in case someone tries to get in.”
Kira blinks at me. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“I do it all the time.”
Not on purpose. I often wake up on the ground after having fallen off the piles of blankets that make up my bed, after nightmares so vivid, they have me clawing at my skin and screaming.
They’re always the same.
Lately, I’ve been finding mushrooms for the village apothecary in exchange for a tea that makes my nights dreamless.
I don’t have the tea now. I forgot to bring the few leaves I had left. I left it behind in that house, along with everything else of value to me.
It’s fine. I won’t reach deep sleep tonight anyway, knowing the Culling starts tomorrow and that Cadoc could kick down our door at any moment. I tell Kira as much.
“Right. I probably won’t sleep that much either, with the nerves and all.”
She’s snoring approximately five minutes later.
I almost smile. I envy her deep sleep.
I really should try the same. But I think about what the king said. We’re allowed to explore. Is there something here that can help me? Am I putting myself at a disadvantage by staying put?
I weigh both sides. I sit in the dark, Kira’s snoring counting down the minutes. I shut my eyes, willing rest to wash over me.
It doesn’t. I’m too riled up.
So, I slip out of the room. I’ll stay close. At the first sign of danger, I’ll come back.
The halls are dark and quiet. I turn several corners without hearing anyone at all. One floor down, there’s a rush of commotion. Challengers. I take the opposite direction.
Every door I try is locked. I trail my fingers down the silver hung on the walls, but they’re mostly ceremonial objects. Goblets, tapestries, star-stitched capes. Either too heavy or unnecessary to be of any use during the quest.
I’m just about to turn back to my room when I hear whispers—
From voices I recognize. The king’s.
Then another, deep and slightly rasped, torn from one of my worst memories.
Harlan Raker.
Even his name in my thoughts sends a chill through my blood. I should run. But instead, I inch closer, careful that my boots don’t make a sound.
“And you have everything you need?” The king.
“Yes.”
“You know your orders?”
“I won’t return without it,” Raker says, deep and low. I frown. Without what? The cup of magic?
“Good,” the king says. “It will be the start of a new age. I feel it coming …”
I lean closer, to hear more, but then the steps retreat. They’re leaving. I lean around the corner, to see if I can follow, but they’re gone.
I should get back to my room. It’s getting late.
I take the same halls back, studying each object again, in case I missed something.
But it’s all the same finery that I could sell in the markets for buckets of metal—and won’t do me any good on the quest. So much for getting anything useful.
My steps hurry, panic sinking through my chest. What if Cadoc and his friends are wandering these halls? I turn around the corner—
And smack right into a wall of armor.
Slowly, I look up—and up—only to see a hood. I swallow.
Fuck.