I grab an empty burlap grain bag from a hook near the shelves and alternate between shoving fistfuls of dried mushrooms into the bag and into my mouth. Tying up the strings on the bag, I attach it to my hip. The snap of a carrot between my teeth is immeasurably satisfying.
“You cannot bring that,” Lucan whispers when he catches me staring at a massive chunk of honeycomb.
“I know.” Even as I say it, I’m contemplating if there’s some way I can. “I’ve only ever tasted honey once before. It was Saipha’s birthday present, and I feel like it’d really mean a lot to her if she could have it now—give her some strength.”
He catches my hand midair as I’m reaching for it. “It’ll meana lot more to her to survive, or even excel in, the next challenge with more substantive food.”
“Absolutely.” I lower my hand, and he turns back to stuffing dried peas in his bag. When he’s not looking, I slice off a small piece of the comb and wrap it in a nearby waxed cloth. Sometimes it’s about feeding your soul as much as it is feeding your belly.
I run my index finger where honey has pooled on the edge of the tray under the comb and bring my finger to my lips. The explosion of sweetness is almost enough to make my teeth ache. I wonder if it’s here for the prelate. Imagining her lounging and eating honey on toast has me violently shoving slabs of salted pork in my bag—far more pragmatic. Though I don’t miss the opportunity to filch a handful of berries, too.
I’ve never stolen anything in my life, and after years upon years of being the “good girl” and staying in line, there’s something immensely freeing about it. Especially here and now.And you thought you’d beat me, I want to tell the inquisitors.
The screeching of hinges as a door opens, followed swiftly by it snapping shut, has Lucan and me freezing mid-grab. It’s followed by footsteps, then voices.
“…downside of the kitchens being closed is we don’t get a hot meal, either,” a man says.
“No one is stopping you from cooking,” a woman responds.It’s not the prelate.
Lucan and I lock eyes. It’s impossible to tell what direction the voices are coming from, but they’re getting closer. Lucan grabs my arm and tugs. We wedge ourselves between the wall and some barrels of potatoes. He grabs a large, empty grain bag from the hook, and we kneel down as he throws it over us like a blanket. And not a second too soon.
The door creaks as it opens. Crouched low, I can see this section of the larder through the gap between the two barrelswe’re hidden behind, but they’re still around the corner. My heart is racing in my chest.
“I’m a shit cook,” the man says, his footsteps growing closer. I hold my breath as Lucan keeps the sack in place. “Maybe you could?”
She snorts. “I’m no better a cook than you, and you know it.”
My breath catches as they turn the corner. The inquisitors have their hoods lowered, and it’s surreal to see them as…people. They’re not faceless, brutal shadows. They’re as much flesh and blood as either of us. I knew this, of course. But it’s so easy to forget when they’re the ones enforcing the rules in here with iron fists…
“The kitchens will open after their test tomorrow,” the woman says. “Eat then.”
“I certainly will. But I’m hungrynow.” The man heads our way.
Lucan shifts, trying to press his large body farther back. The man halts, eyes locked on the honeycomb. Lucan looks my way, and I know I should feel guilty for what I did—especially if I get us caught… But the rage I felt is still too fresh in my veins. I’m hungry, and tired, and fed up with feeling scared, and I’m about to throw fists over my friend having a taste of honeycomb if I must.
“Didn’t we just get this, like, an hour ago?” the man says, leaning close to see my obvious cut corner of the honeycomb. “Who was here?”
“No one. Everyone else is getting ready for tomorrow.” The woman walks over to check it out.
My whole body tenses. My better sense screams to be quiet and wait. They’ll leave to investigate. But that other part of me is still ready to fight. If they—
Bells.
Frantic. High- and low-pitched. It’s the sound of fear in Vinguard.
They both sprint from the room, leaving their food behind.
Lucan and I wait, but only a second. The inquisitors are not coming back. Not with the bells ringing…
A dragon is attacking.
40
“Let’s go.” Lucan grabs my hand, wrenching me toward the barrel-disguised entry we came from, and we don’t even bother to hide ourselves as we bolt through the kitchen.
He drops my hand as we burst from the cask, closing the secret door heavily behind us. I don’t think anyone will hear it. Even down here, the bells are deafening.
Lucan moves for the stairs, and while I force myself to follow, I stall on the first step. Go up?Up, when there’s a dragon?I’m nothing more than a girl again, about to take a step onto that rooftop. But this time, the dragon is waiting for me, calling…
