CHAPTER 5 #2
“Do you?”
Kahvrah glanced at me, and I nodded.
She shrugged. “There is no harm in learning.”
Over the next half hour, I dressed in what Kahvrah called everyday Rihtlondish garb.
For all her criticisms of Inra, Rihtlondish dress was still full of layers.
It started with the dreaded leggings. The pair Kahvrah handed over were loose-fitting until a seamstress entered our already cramped room, measured my legs with a string, and altered the leggings on the spot with needle and thread—her fingers so deft they’d have put even Mother to shame.
Within minutes, I had a breathable fabric that hugged my legs obscenely.
I might have been naked, except that my legs were now green.
“Lanh will make more leggings for you.”
The seamstress left with a nod.
Next came the underdress, which went on like a man’s cotehardie—front-opening, wrapping around my body, looping through itself, and tying at my waist. The sleeves fell halfway down my forearms.
The outer garment was a sleeveless overdress; its green fabric looked coarse, but against my skin was softer than the finest silk.
It fell roughly six inches above the underdress’ hem and was worn like an overlong vest. Last came instructions on affixing pouches to the belt, and the ensemble was finished with soft leather boots.
“This is for everyday wear?” I asked, presenting my boot-shod feet. “Not just riding?”
Kahvrah quirked up one eyebrow, then gave a nod.
I shot Gerta a look. I had a bad feeling I’d be adjusting to a lot more than life without sollars and layers of underskirts.
Kahvrah drew two pouches from the folds of her skirt and handed one to each of us. The larger pouch clinked as it fell into my hand, as did Gerta’s smaller pouch.
“What’s this?”
“Scale,” Kahvrah said simply. At our puzzled looks, she added, “Money.”
“What for?”
“For whatever you need.”
I stared at her.
“You know how to spend money, yes?”
I bristled. As the daughter of the margrave, everything I needed had always been provided.
“She knows well enough,” Gerta answered for me, “but we don’t know what or where to buy anything here.”
“This you will know as you learn about Drakh. Dane wanted you to be prepared, nonetheless.”
Being finally dressed was not enough for Kahvrah. She forced me to strip and redress—including looping the money pouch through my underdress ties—until I could do it quickly and without aid.
“How do I—” I fidgeted with my overdress and the slight bulge from the money pouch. “How do I get to my pouches underneath my dress?”
Kahvrah erupted into laughter, which I did not at all appreciate.
“You have pockets in your skirts and slits at the sides. You truly do not have this in Inra? We have all heard stories, but I never believed them.” She moved aside some of the fabric and guided my hands to both pockets in my overdress—positioned on the side and slightly toward the front.
Then, she pulled apart both overdress and underdress, revealing long slits down the left side.
There were small ties on the underside keeping the fabric together, and the gaps between the ties allowed plenty of room to reach my hand through.
When tied and fallen back against my body, the folds in the fabric made the openings effectively invisible.
“They will come in handy when you learn how to use a blade.”
“A blade?” Gerta and I gasped together.
The air whooshed out of me. “You’re going to make me fight?”
Kahvrah’s grin was a little too pointed for my liking.
ONCE I was dressed, the next task was learning the way to the kitchens.
This was more my pace. I loved being in the kitchens—either to help or steal food—back home.
The kitchens in Drakh Keep were set off the Main Hall, which included a few private dining rooms and a side area with windows for ordering food on takeaway trays.
After the kitchens, Kahvrah led us through the same nonsensical halls back toward my future quarters.
“Mark this path,” she advised, entering the doors on the left rather than the one leading to my mystery suite. They opened to a descending stairway, interrupted midway by a landing with four rooms, two jutting off on either side.
“Training rooms,” she announced, then led us down to the double doors at the bottom of the stairs. Kahvrah pushed me through first.
I let out a squawk and stumbled, but just before I rounded on Kahvrah in protest, the dane’s hulking form caught my eye.
He stood in the center of a large room, with weapons lining the stone walls and padded mats covering the floors.
The dane spoke in hushed tones with one of the most striking women I had ever beheld.
She was tall, toned in every sense, and had an intricate platinum blond braid that fell to her waist. Her hair gleamed with such intensity, it looked white in places.
Her high cheekbones and thin, painted red lips offset her angular features with a touch of elegance.
But when she turned her pale eyes on me, there was fury in them.
My stomach dropped. I’d been in Rihtlond less than a day. What could I have done to deserve a glare like that?
“Come,” Kahvrah whispered behind me. “We will wait over here.”
I glanced in their direction, spotting one Rihtlonder I recognized—Bracht from the camps. He smiled and offered me a small wave.
Dane turned to me, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Daughter.”
The woman beside him sneered, tainting my initial impression of her beauty.
He beckoned me forward. “Your first of three trials begins now. This is your challenger—one of Drakh’s most skilled dowsae trainers.
She serves as the measure against which women in Drakh are tested.
You have one objective for the next five minutes—stay alive.
” He raised an eyebrow in my direction, then stepped off the mat to join Kahvrah, Gerta, and Bracht.
I looked at this woman, my so-called challenger, at a complete loss. “Hello,” I tried with a slight smile.
She grinned, and it was entirely feral. Then, she backhanded me across the cheek.
My neck snapped to the side, and my glasses went flying.
The world turned on its axis, and pain exploded from my temple to my jaw.
I gasped, vision blurring from more than just the pain.
I covered my throbbing cheek with my hand and stumbled back, away from her, but she advanced after me.
I retreated as quickly as I could, but she was faster.
“What the fuck was—” She struck again, a closed fist straight to my nose.
I heard the sickening crunch before I felt it.
It brought me to my knees, where I received a kick to my side.
My ribs screamed in protest, and I recoiled, crying out, “STOP!” That got me another swift kick to the ribs.
Pain stabbed through my side. On instinct, I sucked in a breath, sending more pain—sharp and sudden—down my shoulder and back.
She did not stop. Kick after kick landed. I screamed for Dane, to no effect. I curled inward, blocking what I could with my forearms and shins. I tried to roll away, but that only earned me more blows to my back. My whole body was pain.
Off to the side, Gerta wailed while Kahvrah shushed her.
“Dane, please!” Bracht’s voice rang out.
“Enough,” Dane’s call sounded from somewhere in the room.
One last kick landed, but this time to my gut. The little air left in my lungs was driven out, and I began to heave.
Next came the crying. Sobs racked through me, making all the broken things worse, especially my pride. Heavy footsteps fell on the mat, and I knew it was the dane before his thick, leather boots filled my vision. Judging by the closeness of his voice, he was bending over me.
“We have more work to do than I’d hoped.”