His naïveté is cute. ‘Right,’ I say, suppressing a snort. Residual magic.Those currents of power that drift from the Gods and run down through the citadels. By the time they reach the slums, virtually every drop of power has been leached away, leaving no warmth. With Korvane keeping his massive dining halls fully heated even when no one is in them, that’s hardly a surprise. Selfish bastard.
‘What’s downstairs?’ I ask as we walk past a narrow stone staircase that weaves its way to the floors below.
Jonas offers a shrug. ‘Kitchen, I guess. Dorms are upstairs. That’s where I was going to take you next.’
The word kitchen causes a growl to rattle from my stomach. Even with all of the food gifted to me, I’m still hungry. My stomach wasn’t able to manage much after going so long without. Hopefully, once I’ve dumped my things, I can grab some bread or something before the Cotillion ball that will kick off the Retterheld this evening. But I can’t think about the first ball right now, not when I’m busy trying to keep pace with Jonas. That man has one hell of a stride on him.
‘Here.’ He stretches out his hand as we reach the bottom of another staircase. ‘Let me take one of your bags for you.’
‘I don’t need you to do that. I can manage.’
‘I know you don’t need me to, but I’m offering. There’s this thing called chivalry? It’s still alive … at least with me, anyway.’
He flashes a smile that causes more fluttering in my stomach and a spike in my pulse.
Realising that I’ve been staring a fraction too long, colour rushes to my cheeks and I hand Jonas one of my bags in an attempt to distract him from my rising blush. Some of the ballgowns inside weigh a tonne, yet he slings the bag over his shoulder like it’s weightless before continuing on.
The staircase is wide enough for four people to happily walk side by side, though Jonas stays close to me the whole time. Close enough that it almost feels like my hand should be in his. Halfway up, I pause at a large window offering a view out over the training grounds. At least twenty people are out there, most of them currently fighting, and their movements are mesmerising. The kicks, the blocks, the flashes of swords and daggers. I’m too far away to hear their shouts and grunts, but I can sense them in my bones, and for the first time since my name was called, I feel a surge of genuine fear. The way they move is so fluid, so flawless, that it’s as if they are one with their weapons. Something tells me they haven’t been scraping by on whatever scraps of food they could come by these lastfew years. They’ve been training. Training for war. Training for this. And Etta found them worthy, too.
It’s far from a comforting thought.
‘How many people have been accepted?’ I ask when I look up and find Jonas several feet ahead. For the second time, I quicken my pace to catch up, and he graciously waits until I am beside him before he answers.
‘Around fifty this year. Rooms will be fairly tight until the first trial, and you’ll want to pick where you bunk carefully. People have already formed alliances.’
Alliances. Just the thought of it makes me uneasy. And that unease only increases when Jonas suddenly stops and turns to face me. Good Gods, his eyes are amber. And the way they’re looking at me is intense.
‘I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this, Rose,’ he says, his timbre serious, bordering on forlorn, ‘but there have already been two deaths.’
‘Deaths?’ That pulls me out of his gaze fast. ‘How? The Retterheld hasn’t even begun! Surely Etta won’t approve of deaths outside the trial?’
He presses his lips tightly together. ‘Some people don’t agree with your thinking.’
‘They were killed by other Rettlings?’ I ask, feeling faintly sick. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know the ins and outs,’ he says, but he’s turned away from me, as if he doesn’t want to look me in the eye. ‘Come on, let’s find you a place to sleep.’
I want to know exactly what happened and why two Rettlings have already been killed – and by whom – but he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and the last thing I need is to alienate the only person who might actually help me in this thing. If nothing else, I’m going to need a sparring partner on training days, and I can definitely think of worse people to work up a sweat with than Jonas.
‘Where’s your dorm?’ I change the subject as naturally as I can. ‘And have you already made your alliances?’
‘There are people I know,’ he says vaguely.
Gods, I’ve forgotten how the nobles talk in riddles and circles. Information is power, so everyone scrambles to grab it, then hoards it like a squirrel with nuts.
I press on. ‘You know them from the High Hold, you mean?’
He nods. ‘Not sure whether I’d call them allies, though. We’ve not really solidified anything.’
He’s turned off the stairs now and is walking down a corridor.
‘So are you sharing a dorm with any of these “not-quite-allies” of yours?’
‘No.’ This time he turns to face me. ‘And I’m not in a dorm. I managed to snag myself a space on my own,’ he says. ‘It’s a box room, but it’s quiet, and it’s away from most of the others. An advantage of being in the court is that I was able to get over here and claim my spot the moment the announcement was made. I think all ten of us from Wrohelm did.’
‘A room to yourself,’ I say, trying to stop a grin from twisting my lips. ‘And away from the other Rettlings. It’s almost like you don’t want people to hear what you plan on doing in there.’
‘I haven’t made any plans yet,’ he replies, a smirk twisting his lips.
