His smile widens.‘I like your optimism.’
But it’s foolish. The words go unsaid but hang in the air regardless.
‘Do you know whether your father has my sister?’
He blinks. ‘Should he?’
Panic grips me. ‘I … I asked if he would keep her nearby.’
He shrugs. ‘Then he probably did so. I haven’t been able to see him since I arrived last night.’ His tone is vaguely apologetic.
I force a smile. ‘No problem. Can you take me somewhere to dump this stuff, then to the battle yard?’ I ask. ‘I guess it’s time I got practising.’
‘Sure thing.’ He lets out a slight chuckle as he tosses me another glance. ‘Rose Kultavaris,’ he mutters again. ‘In the Retterheld.’ He shakes his head in utter disbelief.
I tighten my grip on my bags. I’m going to prove him wrong. Prove all of them wrong. I deserve to be here, and Icanwin.
Chapter 9
As we walk through a series of archways and corridors, Jonas tells me about people he thinks I should remember. People who are in the Retterheld. Those who tried but didn’t make it as far as the offering. Those who made the offering but didn’t get selected.
‘You remember Lora, right? You two used to be friends. She tried to enter but got bitten by a dire wolf outside the temple. Luckily, she had a team of healers on standby, so she’s fine.’
I’m glad that Jonas is happily talking away to himself. It means he isn’t looking at me. Lora. That’s a name I’ve tried to push from my mind in the last decade and a half. He was right. We were friends. But that was before.
‘Florian was a baby,’ she said when she saw me after the queen’s death. ‘You should be grateful it wasn’t you or Acacia the king decided to kill instead.’
Gratitude for the murder of my brother. That’s what my best friend thought I should feel.
That was the last time I spoke to Lora, and I’m more than a little delighted that she wasn’t able to get into the Retterheld.
‘We’re all in the eastern arc,’ Jonas says, walking through a large gate set into yet another wall and leading us across an open courtyard. ‘The king’s guards had to give over one of their barracks and training grounds for the Rettlings. It’s basic, but comfy enough.’
The eastern arc is a part of the High Hold I’ve never been in, though I used to dream about it often enough. I dreamed about being selected tobecome a guard. About training for four long years before being sent to the Afaven Forest to bond with a dire wolf. Now though, I can’t help but wonder how many knights there are going to be in the competition.
The more we walk, the less concerned I feel about remembering so little about my life here. High Hold is bigger than I ever realised – and coming from someone who’s lived in the shadow of it for years, that’s saying something.
‘After tonight’s announcement, this’ll be home,’ Jonas tells me as he offers a nod of thanks to a guard who steps aside so we can move through another gate. ‘No going out unless it’s for a trial – or a ball, obviously,’ he amends.
As I step into the sand-covered courtyard, I take a moment to breathe it in. The slums are so crowded that the marketplace is the only space large enough for a gathering, but even then it’s still claustrophobic. Here, there’s space. Space to run. To feel. To breathe.
‘You coming?’ Jonas calls from ahead.
I pick up my pace and hurry to join him. A minute later, we’re walking into a grey stone building several times the size of Etta’s temple.
‘This is us.’ He grins. Seeing this small fraction of the training barracks reminds me of the size of the army needed to defend against the Torailian and Issen. I might despise King Korvane to my very core, but at least he’s keeping his people safe, which I guess is something.
‘You okay?’ Jonas brushes his hand against my arm, causing me to jerk at the unexpected shudder that rolls through me. When our eyes meet, a single frown line is etched between his brows.
‘Yes, sorry, you were saying?’
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he continues. ‘The main training ground we get to use is around the back. Out through the dining hall, which is here.’
I step past him into a massive room filled with rows and rows of wooden tables, all currently empty. It must seat at least four hundred people, and my eyes are drawn to the end where a large fireplace roars with gold and ruby flames. Outside may have been warm, but inside it’s toasty.
‘I can’t get over how warm it is.’ I say the words more to myself than to Jonas.
He looks at me quizzically before shrugging his shoulders. ‘It’s just the residual magic, right? Same as everywhere.’
