“You should go,” I say, fighting to keep my voice from wavering. “I love you.”
“Love you too, kiddo.” My father pats my shoulder, then spins to leave, but not before shooting a final scowl at the chancellor.
Once the double doors close behind him, I fetch my helmet from the stone floor while Coraline breaks the silence with her too-cheery falsetto. “I know you’re all eager to hear from our soldiers one last time before they depart. Shall we begin the last interview with our brave volunteer?”
The sconces flicker as Coraline scoots closer to Kalden.
“Do you have a special lady you’d like to send a message to?”
Standing stiller than a statue, Kalden replies with a simple, “No.”
“Really?” Coraline places a palm on her chest, like this is the most shocking thing he could’ve said. “No wife or partner? Someone who’ll be counting down the days until your return?”
“No,” he repeats.
“Well.” Coraline leans toward the camera with a conspiratorial smirk. “I’m sure some of our eligible ladies would be glad to give you a true hero’s welcome once you come back.”
I expect Kalden’s neutral expression to hold firm, but a scowl breaks through.
Coraline chuckles tensely before moving on to Gem. “Speakingof heroes, we were all moved by your insistence on serving in the Hunt, despite your injury. Were you compelled by your sense of duty?”
Gem glances at me while answering, “You could say that.”
“Can you believe that, folks? Wow! Nowthisis a woman whose heart is fully devoted to our merciful shadows. We love to see it!” Coraline directs her next question at me. “What’s it like being friends with someone so dedicated?”
“Gem is . . .” I start and stop. Despite our unspoken amends, this is my chance to verbally affirm what she means to me, so I want to get it right.
“Not many can say they have a friend loyal enough, or stubborn enough, to walk with them into battle. Someone who’s willing to leave behind their comforts, or maybe even their lives, so the person lucky enough to be loved by them won’t have to face their deepest fears alone.” Coraline’s forced smile falls, and a shaky exhale passes through my lips as I admit, “I can’t say I’m glad she’s here. I’m terrified, actually. But I also couldn’t be more grateful that we’re facing this together.”
Gem’s cheeks are rosier than usual as she squirms at my sappiness and having everyone’s focus on her, but the soft smile she dips her head to hide tells me all I need to know.
Coraline tugs her silver neckerchief loose to dab the inner corners of her black-lined eyes, which she closes while shaking her head, like she’s trying to shake away the distressing sensation of empathy.
By the time her eyes reopen, the glossy detachment is firmly back in place.
“Let’s have production cut that last part,” Coraline whispers to the camera operator before switching her sights over to Aruna. “Miss Aruna here is the youngest of this year’s selected. Tell me, Aruna, do you think your youthful energy will give you an edge out there?”
Aruna, who perked up a bit at being called, deflates. “I had a better chance at getting engaged in the next month than I do at making it through one week against the Sols.”
Coraline sighs and shares another look with her camera operator. “Cut that, too.”
Meridna’s the next victim. When Coraline asks why she chose a short sword as her weapon, Meridna simply shrugs.
A few minutes later, Coraline gives up entirely on getting good content out of us. To her crew, she instructs, “Let’s get a good wide view of the group and a few up-close shots of them putting their helmets on. Oh, and their weapons! Folks go crazy for that kind of footage.”
My fists clench at the pageantry of it all, and I mistakenly trigger the mechanism on my cuffs. The metallic whir causes Gem and Twilynn to flinch back. Before I think to move my arms away from my sides, one of the blades slides through the leather fabric on my thigh, releasing with it a small stream of blood. An icy pinprick dances across the cut, though the pain is secondary to the crushing weight of the crowd’s eyes.
“Sorry,” I rush to say, retracting the blades and making a mental note that even the slightest hand movement can release the trigger.
“Hold places, everyone,” Coraline declares before waving over an attendant. “Please take care of the tear and wipe away the blood. We can’t have people saying we don’t care for our Huntresses properly.”
A girl who can’t be more than eighteen hurries toward me with a towel, needle, and fine thread. I watch as she wipes the beads of crimson from the leather and meticulously begins to sow the suit back together while blood continues to seep from the wound.
“Could I get a bandage before she finishes sewing?”
“No time,” Coraline responds gruffly.
Chatter rises from the spectators.
