Chapter 7
When I return home, Kay has gone from mad to livid.
‘Of all the pig-headed things to do! And you just expect me to accept your idiocy? Well, I won’t do that.
I am furious with you, Rose. Furious!’ She is beginning to repeat herself after fifteen minutes of ranting but has yet to begin losing steam.
She continues sharply, ‘No, furious is not enough. I don’t have words for how angry I am with you right now.
I’m … I’m … argh!!!’ While her articulation is unusually sloppy, the manner in which she stamps her foot and glowers at me does a perfectly good job of expressing her feelings.
Her hands clench into fists and she brings them down on the wooden countertop of our table for the second time.
Like everything in the slums, it’s made of laughably weak wood, and if she’s not careful, she’ll break it in two.
I don’t point this out though, as I know I need to pick my battles wisely …
which is why, of course, I signed up for the deadliest competition of my lifetime.
She rubs her hand and glares at me accusingly. ‘At least if you’d spoken to me about it first, that would have been something.’
‘If I’d spoken to you about it, you would have refused to let me enter,’ I say mildly. ‘Or done something even more stupid, like try to enter yourself just to make a point.’
Her glare is withering. ‘So, me entering would be stupid, but for you it’s a brilliant idea? Talk about hypocritical!’
‘It’s not hypocritical,’ I lie, fully aware that it absolutely is. ‘You are just eighteen, meaning you’d be the youngest there. You were barely in your fighting furs when we were kicked out of the High Hold, so you have no idea what these people are like. I do.’
She scoffs. ‘You’re telling me that six years make such a difference, when the king’s knights can enter?
People who have trained in war and fighting for their entire lives?
Prince Kyor is in it, for crying out loud!
No, you didn’t tell me what you were doing because you knew it was a terrible idea. ’
‘It isn’t a terrible idea!’ I spit back, my own temper finally fraying.
I take a calming breath and reach for her hands, looking her in the eye.
‘I’m not lying, Kay. I can win this. I can feel it in my bones.
The Goddess heard my offering. She understood it and she chose me because of it.
She will be on my side. She will guide me, keep me safe. ’
‘Do you not realise that every person who’s been accepted also believes they are worthy of winning because the Goddess chose them? Surely you can see that?’
Fuck, when it’s worded like that, it’s hard to disagree. But whatever was in their tears of offering, whatever their pleas, I doubt they felt them as fervently as I did, nor are they as motivated. None of those spoiled, rich nobles know desperation like I do. I’m certain of it.
‘What about Kyor?’ Kay says wearily. ‘Have you thought about what he will do to you?’
I try to shrug nonchalantly, as if his name hasn’t even crossed my mind since it was called. ‘I doubt he will even recognise me,’ I remark. ‘It’s been fourteen years.’
She scoffs. ‘Are you telling me you don’t remember his face?’
‘I recall his brown eyes, but apart from that … I honestly doubt I’d recognise him now.’ I am lying. Of course I am.
I will never forget his youthful face as he begged my mother to save his mother.
I will never forget the pain in his deep brown eyes when the queen chose her unborn child’s life over her own, a child who never even saw his first breath.
Most of all, I remember the venom in those eyes as he told his father that it was my mother’s fault the queen was dead.
That the queen had begged for her life, but my mother had chosen instead to deliver the frail babe, born with a cord around his neck and twisted limbs, rather than save the woman the king had grown to love.
I remember how the prince looked at me, unblinking, as he spewed his lies, condemning us all.
But would I recognise the man he has become? Maybe not.
I push the memories away and face my sister.
‘Kay, please.’ I lower my voice as I place my hands on her shoulders.
‘Let’s not do this. I’m going to the palace tomorrow and we have no idea how many moons these trials will last. I don’t want to spend our last hours arguing.
It is done, and it cannot be undone. Please, sit with me. We can see what Dinah has given me.’
‘You went to see Dinah?’ she asks in surprise. The pair have always been close, and no doubt my solo visit is another black mark against me.
‘I did. And she gave me some things. Mostly clothes, but also this.’ I lift the satchel from where I placed it by the door, even more aware of its weight than I was when Dinah placed it on my shoulders.
Despite the angry facade she wants to keep in place, I can see Kay’s interest is piqued. It’s been a long time since we’ve had parcels or gifts… unless you include the rats that the stray cats sometimes leave outside.
‘What’s in there?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know. Shall we look?’
I’m desperately eager to gain back some favour with my little sister, and so I hand her the satchel and give her the chance to indulge her curiosity before I do.
She opens up the bag, slips a hand inside, and pulls out a small paper packet tied with twine.
‘It looks like seeds,’ she says, a frown marring her smooth skin.
My heart skips. ‘Seeds?’
She hands it to me, and the skip in my heart turns into a full-on lurch as I recognise the contents: rare and costly paparvy seeds, prized for their pain-relieving properties.
I wince inwardly. Dinah clearly expects me to be in considerable pain over the coming weeks.
Hardly encouraging. Still, it makes me wonder what other treasures the satchel holds.
She was obviously lying when she claimed it contained only odd things left behind at the temple.
By the time I fold the top of the packet carefully, not wishing to lose a single seed, Kay has already got the next item out for me.
‘More seeds.’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t recognise these either.’
As she hands them to me, I feel a pang of big-sisterly love mixed with relief that she doesn’t recognise dealun seeds, which means she isn’t using them yet.
I, on the other hand, rely on them – my hookups with Ruben are only possible because the weeds the seeds come from grow in abundance in the slums. The last thing I need is a baby when I can barely feed Kay and myself.
Still, the Retterheld is going to last several moons, and it’s possible I’ll meet someone who could serve as a welcome distraction from trials and training, so the seeds might as well come with me.
‘Gloves.’ Kay breaks my thoughts as she shoves a pair of brown leather fighting gloves at me. They’re good quality, fingerless with straps that go down past the wrist, offering extra support. ‘This one is heavy,’ Kay says, pulling out a rectangular metal box and handing it to me.
‘Are you not going to open it first?’ I ask.
‘You can do this one.’
‘How generous,’ I say, but we exchange a smile, our first since my return home, and I’m grateful for it.
I lift the lid and gasp at the sight in front of me.
It is a dagger unlike any I’ve ever seen before.
The hilt is made of copper, an unusually soft metal for such a role, and when I grasp it, it is a perfect fit for my grip. As I pull the weapon from its sheath, a bolt of energy shoots into my palm and up through my wrist. A gasp flies from my lungs.
‘Rose?’ Kay looks up at me. ‘Is everything all right?’
My eyes return to the blade as a faint tingling continues to linger in my hand.
‘Yes.’ I meet her gaze with a forced smile. ‘Yes, it’s fine.’
With my attention back on the blade, I twist my wrist, turning it in circles as if toying with an invisible opponent.
Light reflects from the surface, dispersing into shades of the kind of brightest blue usually found in the centre of the hottest flame.
While the dagger’s blade is smooth and silver, the sheath is a multitude of metals, one of which I’m certain is gold, embedded in the most delicate of patterns.
Infinitesimally thin lines branch out from thicker central ones – almost like leaves, I think, only to correct myself. No, like feathers.
‘Wow, that is beautiful.’ Kay’s voice croaks as she reaches out for it. Her fingers brush the metal, only for her to recoil. ‘Ouch! That’s hot! How in the Gods’ names are you holding it?’
‘Is it?’ I question, turning it over again in my hand.
It’s not cold, but I’d hardly say it was hot.
Warm, maybe. Body temperature. The fact that my sister would classify something like this as hot is just another sign that I need to get her out of these freezing conditions sooner rather than later.
Kay watches on as I continue to move the dagger through the air.
‘A blade like that must be worth a fortune,’ she marvels. Her words cause a lump to thicken in my throat and I place the weapon down. She’s right. The sensible thing to do would be to sell it and buy some cheaper blades before I leave, but as I turn it over, that thought fades.
Something tells me I was not meant to sell this weapon. I was meant to wield it.
Even now, I can see the way it would spin in the air.
Perfectly weighted, there’s not a hair’s difference between the weight of the point to cross guard, and cross guard to pommel.
A tingle, almost akin to the rush of magic, ripples through me as I imagine sending it hurtling through the air. Ideally into a royal chest.
‘You might have to kill with that blade,’ Kay says quietly.
‘Possibly,’ I reply. Probably, I amend internally, not taking my eyes off the weapon.
A silence forms between us, and I know she’s thinking the same as I am.
Can I really do it? Do I really have it in me to kill another human?
If it were only my own survival at stake, then perhaps not, but it isn’t.
It’s for Kay’s survival as well, and that changes everything. For her, I will do whatever it takes.
‘There’s more in here,’ she says, prodding the box. ‘Do you want to look first?’
I do, but a heavy weight has been placed on my chest, and my gaze is still fixed on the weapon. Perhaps this is why Dinah gave me such an item. Something so stunning it could have been crafted by the Gods’ own hands to ensure I would never forget the value of each life I might take.
‘We’ll see the rest later,’ I reply, forcing a smile as I sheath the blade. ‘I’m hungry.’
Kay’s lips purse so tightly that they all but disappear and I know she’s not done arguing yet. But thankfully, she releases the expression with a sigh. ‘Fine. We’ll eat. But we’re not done talking about this.’
‘No,’ I say, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. ‘Somehow, I didn’t think we were.’