Chapter 15
Iwish I couldn’t see Zara, a furious scowl on her face and angry burns still marring her skin.
The healers have done one hell of a job on the blisters and brought down the swelling, but the evidence of what I did is still clear.
Her skin is puckered and pink, the hair on that side of her head gone entirely. Not just shaved but scorched away.
Beside Zara is a slender man with an almost identical face to her own.
I assume it’s her brother, Shim. When he sees me staring, he taps his sister on the shoulder.
Slowly, she turns to face me. Her choice of outfit is fierce – a dress that’s eighty percent chains and no more than six inches of fabric.
It definitely gives the burns room to breathe.
Every muscle in my body clenches as I stand there, bolted to the ground, awaiting whatever pain’s going to come.
But there’s nothing. Nothing but my own pulse hammering in my ears as her lips curve into a sneer.
Whatever she’s got planned for me now, I have a feeling it’s going to be a hell of a lot worse than when she merely considered me a ‘runt.’
‘I need a drink,’ Jai grunts, and for once I’m grateful for the curtness of his interjections.
‘Yeah, me too,’ I reply, trying to stem the trembling in my knees.
I can feel their gazes trained on me – the courtiers, former so-called friends of my family – as my own eyes fall on a redheaded woman.
A gasp escapes me. It’s Lora’s mother, and she hasn’t aged a day.
Only … my stomach sinks as I realise it’s not her mother at all. It’s Lora herself. I hastily look away.
As I continue to scan the scene, I wonder how many among the crowd have placed bets that I’ll be dead by the end of the first trial and how many don’t expect me to even get that far.
Now, more than ever, I’m glad I went down to the kitchens earlier, and not just because it meant I met Llinos and her gang; I’m not sure my stomach could handle anything right now.
Along the side of the main ballroom, there are a series of archways that lead into different corridors and, I assume, more rooms where the real action takes place.
My father always said that balls are never about dancing or drinking.
They’re for clandestine meetings, mingling, information gathering, and forming alliances.
‘Okay, Wrohelm,’ Benny says to Jonas after Jai’s grabbed a full tray of drinks from a waiter. ‘Since you’re hanging around with us, you can make yourself useful. Who’s our biggest competitor?’
‘Really?’ Coulter looks up at Benny. ‘We don’t even get tonight off?’
‘You can if you want,’ Benny replies, ‘but I intend to use my time wisely, as I’m sure all the people who want a chance of actually winning this thing will do.’
I shoot Coulter a sympathetic smile. Maybe it’s because of his age, but I get the feeling this event, with the drinks and the glamour and the eight-piece musical ensemble, is a far bigger deal to him than the others. I can only imagine how giddy Kay would be if she were here.
‘There’ll be plenty more,’ I remind him. ‘One after each trial.’
‘Yeah, as long as I live through them,’ he grumbles.
‘Oh, for Aitara’s sake. Come on, let’s go have a wander,’ Loch huffs. ‘They can fill us in later, right?’
As Loch glances at Benny, the two exchange a look, and I realise the older man’s offer to take Coulter for a tour of the ballroom creates an opportunity to put that magical hearing of his to good use. Smart.
Llinos stays close to Benny’s side, whereas Jai stands slightly apart from us and is already on his second drink.
Apparently, grabbing intel on the other competitors isn’t so important to him, but I guess when you’re built like a small house and can turn the rocks beneath people’s feet into molten lava, you don’t worry about stuff quite so much. I, however, need the intel.
Rather than immediately jumping into his role as a Wrohelm guide, Jonas hesitates, his expression tightening.
‘I didn’t know if perhaps there were people Rose wanted to speak to,’ he says, looking pointedly at me. ‘You know, since you used to live here.’
‘Trust me, there is no one from the past that I want to talk to,’ I mutter. ‘So, spill. Who’s who?’
Jonas lets out a groan before taking a pull of his drink. ‘Okay, so it’s mostly knights and nobles we’re up against, and I don’t know much about the knights, other than what I’ve heard over in the barracks.’
‘Which is?’ Benny presses.
‘They’re tough as fuck.’
A slight sigh escapes Benny’s lips. I think it’s fair to say we could have worked that out on our own.
‘But the toughest,’ Jonas continues, ‘is Grenda.’ He gestures subtly with his head to the other side of the ballroom.
‘Grey hair, black dress. I heard she’s the second oldest in the Retterheld this year, but age has certainly not diminished her.
She’s got two sons stationed on the Hirathean Path and has already told everyone that her gifting would be to get them home alive. ’
My heart squeezes tightly. Risking death so your children can live. Hard to find fault with that.
‘Have her sons been given leave to come and watch her compete?’ Llinos asks.
Jonas shakes his head. ‘Who knows though? Maybe after the vowing they’ll be allowed to return.’
Fucking Korvane, making people risk death just to see their own children. Everyone knows that going to the border is basically a death sentence. Few come back from it, and if they do, they’re in no fit state to even talk about what they saw.
‘Who else?’ Benny presses. ‘What about the nobles? There’s the prince, of course.’
Jonas’s cheeks suck inwards. ‘Yeah, Kyor’s going to be one hell of a tough competitor.
He was trained by Zelle, the youngest ever commander of the army, until Kyor stole that title from him.
Apparently, his bond with his wolf is crazy strong and works over miles, and as for his magic … ’ He lets out a low whistle.
‘What is it? What can he do?’ I ask.
Back before we were stripped, there were rumours of what the prince could do. Some said he would one day rival even my father as a storm summoner, but he was too young then for his powers to have settled, so it was mostly conjecture.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll see,’ Jonas says vaguely. ‘Don’t know where he is now or if he’ll even turn up before the inauguration. Rumour has it he rode his wolf straight back to the battlefield after his offering.’
‘What?’ Llinos’s face displays the same level of shock as I’m feeling. ‘He rides his dire wolf? Don’t people have their legs ripped off for even attempting that?’
‘Well, he’s said to ride her,’ Jonas replies with a shrug.
It sounds like a wild rumour to me. The type to make the prince sound like he’s greater than the rest of us and worthy of his position.
I’m happy to call bullshit on that, but I don’t know if I’m pleased or not about the fact that he may not show up tonight.
I have dreamed about seeing the prince countless times since we were cast out, rehearsed what I would say to him over and over again, but that doesn’t stop the twinge of fear sparking in my gut about the potential consequences of lambasting him publicly. For Kay, I’ll hold my tongue – for now.
‘So … the other nobles,’ Benny continues to push. ‘I heard there were ten of you?’
‘Right.’ Jonas slips back into his role of court informant, this time a little more enthusiastically. ‘The other guys are older. Nathan Taros is sixty-plus and a fire wielder. Was amazing but makes mistakes now. His daughter, Nessira, is probably the better fighter. She’s competing as well.’
‘Fire wielder?’ I question, as keen as Benny to learn all I can.
‘Not exactly. She’s a healer. A cauter.’
‘A cauter?’ Llinos questions.
‘She can cauterise wounds,’ Jonas explains. ‘Damn useful skill to have in battle. Stops soldiers bleeding out when they take an ice blade from the Issen.’
That does sound handy, but hardly competition-winning magic. Still, it’s better than my sweet fuck-all.
‘It’s the same skill as her aunt, Clade – Nathan’s sister – who’s also been accepted.’
‘Wow, talk about keeping it in the family,’ Benny murmurs. ‘I’m guessing the Taroses will work together, given that they’ve probably trained together their entire lives.’
‘It’s likely,’ Jonas agrees, ‘but they’ll probably need help from some of the others, given that Nathan’s the only one with offensive powers.
Yeva Mancy is an obvious choice.’ He looks around for her, only to come up empty.
‘She’s an ash weaver. Really grey eyes so you’ll know her when you see her.
The power sounds weak until you see what an ash storm can do.
She’s not the strongest, but she’s tough.
Pen Tharolin is the youngest of the Wrohelm Rettlings.
Her touch blisters, which is nasty if you’re the recipient of it, but she’s not much of a fighter.
I expect most people will be able to stop her from ever getting that far. ’
Jonas pauses for a breath, but it’s clear he’s now in the flow of things.
‘Who’s that?’ I point to a woman standing near a fireplace, her body rigid as an older man and woman try to engage her in conversation.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about her that makes me think she’s a Rettling and not just a member of the court.
She has a circular tattoo for Wrohelm on her upper arm, which I can’t imagine anyone who wasn’t from here would ever get, though she seems to be observing her surroundings intently.
Not only that, but there’s an anger radiating from her, a tightness to her frame, as though she’s only here because she has to be. It feels remarkably familiar.
‘You don’t know Estel?’ Jonas says. He shakes his head slightly, as though he’s realised his mistake. ‘Of course. You were already gone when her sister was stripped.’
‘Her sister was stripped? What, why?’