Chapter 3
“Soren, wait!”
I mark a trace of hesitation in the king’s step, and then he’s gone, leaving me to stare at the door he left through in a speechless stupor.
What just happened?
Perhaps I’m simply unaccustomed to madness, but I can’t seem to reconcile the person I danced with last night with the creature who stood here and threatened to burn Vasna for the crime of leaving my room. Head reeling, I turn to Tilly.
“He’s mad,” I say in a kind of horrified wonder.
As soon as the words are said, I regret them. Mad or not, he’s her brother, and I am the stranger here. But Tilly doesn’t look offended. No, she shrugs and begins picking at her nails.
“He’s a dragon,” she says as if that explains all.
“He just threatened to burn my homeland!”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not going to burn your homeland.” She pauses and glances up as if a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You don’t have any old lovers there, do you?”
“What? No.”
“Then it should be fine.”
I keep staring at her. “It’s the second time he’s threatened my people.” He casually mentioned letting them starve the first.
Tilly blinks innocently at me. “I think he just wants you to be safe. Someone did try to kill you.”
A deep breath is needed before I can try communicating the root of the issue. “It’s one thing for someone to ask you to stay somewhere,” I say. “It’s another for them to threaten your entire country and demand it.”
Last night he was so warm; he was even endearing at times. Now he’s back to the beast I met on the docks.
“That’s just the way they are,” Tilly says with another shrug.
My mouth opens on a counterargument, and then I pause.
They? She likely means male dragons, but the wording seems odd. She can’t mean she isn’t a dragon, can she? That wouldn’t make sense if she and the king are siblings.
I’m contemplating the most polite way to ask when there’s a soft but urgent knock at the servant’s door. At the barest answer, Cora bursts in.
“Oh, Your Highness.” She rushes over and drops into a deep curtsy. “I’m so glad to see you awake. I know I shouldn’t have come without being called, but I knew Lady Tilanthia was here, too—” Another curtsy is bobbed her way. “—and, well, I thought you might not have heard.”
Tilly and I exchange a look.
“Heard what?” I ask.
Cora leans in, glancing both ways like the walls themselves might be listening. “The king has had a challenger.”
Tilly sits straight up, her eyes sparkling. “Ooo, who is it?”
“They say his name is Talbik. He’s from the northern province.”
“How old is he?”
Cora bends even nearer, and in a scandalous tone says, “Not even twenty.”
Tilly throws her arms up and flops back onto the pillows. “And we’re going to miss it all.”
“Wait, wait,” I say, holding a hand up at them both. “Are we talking about a challenger for the throne?”
They nod eagerly.
“Then why in all the stars’ name do you both sound so excited?”
They have the good grace to look a little abashed. Tilly draws a pillow into her lap and begins plucking at the seams.
“The fights are just exciting,” she says with a pout.
“Aren’t you worried about your brother?”
At this, she looses an unladylike snort, and even Cora can’t contain a small sound of amusement.
“Of course not,” Tilly says. “Soren never has challengers for a reason.”
I puzzle over her. “Then why did you sound so upset when you told me?” Before the king walked in, she was presenting the news like it was some terrible misfortune.
She focuses even more intently on her pillow. “Because I knew you wouldn’t like the details.”
I glance at Cora. She’s avoiding my gaze as well.
“What details?” I say.
Tilly continues her fidgeting, and Cora shuffles her feet. I’ll not take advantage of my station and demand Cora answer me, but I am tempted to give Tilly a shake. Why are they being so cagey?
“Will I need to go ask one of the guards?” I ask finally.
Cora’s cheeks brighten. “Of course not, Your Highness. Forgive me. I’ll explain—”
“No,” Tilly says in a tone of defeat. “I will. See, most challenges are just fights over territory or mines, and afterward the loser yields and has to give up whatever the challenger wanted. Challenges for the throne are different, though.”
She doesn’t elaborate on her own, of course, forcing me to urge her on. “How so?”
“Because if no one yields, well, the challenges can be to the death.”
Horrible as it sounds, I’m not that surprised. Even in Vasna, a fight could go wrong, couldn’t it?
“And,” Cora adds, sharing a nervous look with Tilly, “if a death does occur, all possessions go to the winner.”
Tilly bites her lip. “Including mates.”
Now they’re looking straight at me in a frozen panic. I think they expect some explosive reaction, for me to yell or demand they tell me more. But explosions aren’t helpful, and I’ve heard all I need. With the utmost calmness, I fold the blankets back.
“Cora,” I say, “I need you to fetch Hiln, please.”
The girl’s eyes skip from Tilly back to me. “Would you like breakfast first, Your Highness?”
“No thank you.”
Without another word, she dashes to the door and disappears. I feel Tilly’s gaze on me as I ease my legs out of bed. If I move slow, the stiffness shouldn’t be too bad.
“Where are these challenges held?” I ask.
She hesitates. “At The Pit. It’s a dried up lake bed in the desert, or that’s what they say it was. It’s always just been a big hole.” There’s a great deal of rustling as she wrestles herself and her gown out of the blankets to crawl my way. “Oh, Serah, you’re not thinking of going there?”
I brush my hair back from my face. “I am not staying in this room while my freedom hinges on a fight in a hole.”
“Soren isn’t going to lose, Serah. I promise.”
I want to share her confidence, and maybe I would if he hadn’t come here and treated me with such coldness. If I’m honest with myself, I may be angrier at that than this whole challenge business.
Most frustrating of all, I’m actually worried about him, not that he deserves any of my worry after the way he acted.
While I wait for Hiln, I go to my dressing room.
The king did have my things delivered, as he said, and I quickly locate my two goatskin canteens.
To my relief, I also find my telescope in the same straw-filled crate I packed it in.
I take the canteens to the bathing chamber, fill them at the tub, and leave them in a corner.
Returning to the side of the bed, I stay there until Hiln arrives, and when she does, barking at the maid behind her for treading on her heels, I make my intention clear.
“I am going to go see His Majesty.”
She sweeps a critical eye over my injuries. “In The Pit?”
“Yes. Will you dress me accordingly?”
The ornery woman studies me, and I meet those hard eyes with unflinching resolve until the faintest of smiles creeps over her lips.
“I will, Your Highness.”