‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Like I mentioned already, I have spent a fair bit of time with him, and I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character.’
She wants me to agree with her on the matter, but I can’t. She’s just too trusting to be rational when it comes to people.
‘So tell me everything,’ Kay says, lounging back on the sofa and patting the seat next to her. ‘Your friends seem lovely. And Jonas?—’
‘Is also just a friend,’ I assure her hastily. ‘You’re right. The others are great. They’re from the Eastern Isles.’
As soon as I start, the words don’t stop. We talk for hours, with me covering everything from the moment when Jonas met me in the High Hold, to my time in the forest – though I omit a fair few details about Kyor, the dire wolf, and the dagger.
Kay has plenty to tell me, too. About how Artur arranged to move her to the High Hold and had a seamstress fix her new dresses, as well as her room with two fireplaces and the pastries she’s eaten every night.
More than once, I consider telling her about the offer Llin made for us to go with her to the Isles, but I don’t. Kay seems so settled, and I don’t want to say anything to make her think I have less than one hundred percent confidence in me winning the gifting. She doesn’t need to worry about contingency plans. That’s my job.
I am about to ask her about other people she’s met, but before I can, the door to the antechamber swings open. Standing there is a portly man with beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, which he dabs away with a handkerchief. There are just enough similarities to the man I remember from my past to tell me this is Artur Lorathin.
‘There you are,’ he says jovially.
I jump to my feet, trying not to gawk. He’s changed so much. His hair has gone, his figure has rounded, and there’s a pittedness to his skin that looks to have been caused by overindulging in drink. He’s a long way from the warrior my parents considered their friend – on the outside, anyway.
‘Lord Lorathin.’ Remembering my manners, I hurry across to the door and bend my knees in a poorly practised curtsy. ‘I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for my sister. Your generosity in bringing her here, so that I can see her at these events, is more than I could have dreamed.’
His smile reveals two rows of perfectly white teeth. ‘Rose, please, call me Artur. And it is my honour. Kay has been quite the perfect houseguest. And from what I hear, you’re a rather formidable Rettling.’
‘I am grateful that Etta and the Gods have favoured me thus far.’
‘And long may it continue.’ He flashes me another smile before turning his attentionto my sister.
‘Acacia, dearest, it is time we head back to the apartment. The king has retired and it is only good form that we do the same.’
‘Oh. Of course.’ She tries to smile, but I know that, just like me, there’s reluctance in every pore of her body to be separated again. She turns to look at me and her eyes fill with tears.
I try to hold my own back, to be strong for her.
‘I love you,’ I whisper, holding her so close I’m sure that neither of us can breathe. But I don’t care. Breathing doesn’t matter if Kay’s not in my life. ‘This isn’t goodbye, remember? Only three more trials.’ Though I can admit to myself that that’s three too many.
When I break away, tears stream down her cheeks.
‘Please stay alive, Rose. I won’t be okay if I lose you, too. Please stay safe.’
‘I promise that it’s at the top of my to-do list,’ I quip, squeezing her once more.
She turns and takes the arm Artur has extended for her.
‘Goodnight, Rose.’ His voice is courteous, but the pause that follows feels sharp somehow. ‘I’m sure we will see you again. If Etta wills it so.’
My body clockwakes me early the next morning, and I stumble half-asleep down to the yard. It’s only when I’m nearly to the weapons cabinet that I realise Zelle will not be waiting for me. The knowledge is like a sledgehammer to the heart, and the pain only increases at the sight of Kyor sleeping by the cabinet, an empty bottle in his hand and a few other empties alongside him.
I hesitate for just a beat before waking him.
‘You can’t sleep here,’ I say, noting the red rim of his eyes. ‘You’ll freeze.’
I help him to his feet, but it’s not easy and he sways dangerously as I try to find my balance to hold him upright. Finally, I’ve got him in a position I can handle, with an arm wrapped around his waist, and using more force than seems kind, I tug him forward. Apparently, it’s my turn to lead.
It’s slow going out of the yard, and he toys with my hair as we stagger together. I let him, mostly because wrestling free would mean dropping him flat on the floor.
After what feels like one of the most intense workouts I’ve had so far, I get him into the warmth of the barracks. The question is where to go next.There are plenty of seats in the dining hall, but the last thing he needs is for the other Rettlings to see him in this state. Most will understand, but undoubtedly some will see his compassion as weakness. I could take him to the dorms, but manoeuvring him up the stairs feels even more daunting than getting him inside. The kitchen downstairs, however? Food and water would be his friend, and I could stand in front of him as we head down to ensure he doesn’t fall.
‘Such a pretty Rose,’ he murmurs, his fingers winding a little too tightly in my icy-blonde hair, making my scalp prickle. ‘So beautiful,’ he whispers.
