Gem is perched on my cot, her knuckles bracing her chin and jade eyes glittering.
“Sun’s pits, Gem! Are you trying to kill me a day early?” I scoop up my cloak, which I’d aimlessly tossed on the floor after our training session, and throw it at her face. I miss, of course, and the heavy garment falls to a heap at the edge of the bed as I lean over to peel off my sandals. “When did you sneak in here?”
“A couple minutes ago,” Gem replies, plucking at the fraying seamof my navy cotton pillowcase. “I walked right past you, but I guess you were too busy salivating again.”
“Don’t make me throw more things at you.” I wave my sandal towards her as a threat, then offer, “Truce?”
She lifts my pillow like it’s a shield and shakes her head. “Not until you tell me everything that happened between you two.”
My shoe drops to the floor with a thud. “Just now?”
“Don’t be daft.”
“I already told you. We sparred,” I say while searching through the trunk at the cot’s base. A shapeless gray dress has been provided by the chancellor’s staff as a customary change of clothes. The linen material unfolds as I hold the dress to my body. I can’t help but think it looks more like the attire of an inmate than that of a supposedly esteemed Huntress.
“You’re too slow to outrun a Sol, but strong enough to fight them?” Her flat intonation suggests she’s not buying it.
“I won’t have a choice, Gem. Evasion is obviously the better option, but you know how much all that up and down makes me dizzy.” I tug off the too-tight black pants of my training uniform, and the skin along my legs practically sings in freedom. “Kalden agreed to teach me a few offensive techniques as a last resort.”
I slip into the gray dress before peeling away the provided top that’s basically a bra, and it’s a tense moment before Gem asks, “You believe that’ll work?”
Despite my sagging shoulders, I understand her doubt. If Kalden had told me I’d have to rely on my physical strength alone as an offensive tactic, I’d share Gem’s concerns. Little does she know there’s a loophole—a way to turn the Sols’ power against them without becoming one, assuming Kalden’s techniques prove true.
But I can’t tell her that. Not only would it endanger Kalden, itmight jeopardize Gem, too, if the chancellor deemed her guilty by association.
So, I twist my features into feigned hurt. “Just say it. You think I’m too weak for this, don’t you? That I can’t possibly survive up there?” Her eyes widen, and my voice breaks. “Please, by all means, tell me how you fully expect me to be the first to die tomorrow.”
Gem shakes her head, unable to speak the words we both know are true.
I hate that I have to do this—that I have to guilt trip Gem into thinking I resent her lack of faith in my abilities. But even more, I hate the true throb in my chest telling me Idoresent her doubt. Yes, it’s justified. Yes, I’d rather my closest friend be honest rather than spare my feelings. And yet, it stings to hear the person who knows me best admit I’m too weak, too broken to survive.
Instead of answering my question, Gem asks her own. “You think I’d turn down Kalden’s offer to swap places if I was confident we’re doomed to be goners?”
A wet heat builds in my eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Her mouth falls open. “Seriously?”
I lean against the footboard for support while explaining, “You’re a realist, Gem. Not an optimist. I think you chose to stick with me, despite the obvious risks, for the same reason you wanted to escape to Deor: to avoid being cast aside while Taur adjusts to life in a superior tier.”
A tear silhouetted by the room’s purple glow trails down Gem’s cheek.
“Soldiers can’t afford to feel.”
With Kalden’s earlier words echoing in my mind, I take two measured breaths before saying, “Let’s get some sleep. We’re both tired, and we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Nodding, Gem rises from my cot and shuffles to the door. Her fingers pause on the knob. “You’re wrong, you know. Not just about me. You’re the most resilient person I know, Orelle. If anyone can defy the odds, it’s you.”
Before I can respond, Gem slides out into the hall.
The door clicks shut, and I collapse onto the cot. Why should I bother to slink beneath the soft cotton sheets when I’m already covered in a compressing blanket of shame?
CHAPTER TWELVE
I didn’t expectto spend the last few hours of my life in a private bathing chamber far too large for me and my assigned beautician, getting plucked like a caged bird primed for slaughter.
“How exactly does my lack of body hair prepare me for defeating Sols?” I ask as she scrapes a blade down my armpits.
Her red lips pinch together. “You’ll thank me once you’re in your suit. Less hair, less friction and odor.”
