I sit up sharply, trying to steady my heartbeat.
‘Jonas?’ My voice catches as my pulse soars. I don’t want to sound terrified, but I really am. I can’t see. There’s nothing. Just pure, bright-white emptiness. I thought darkness was disorienting. But this…? Without my sight for reference, it’s like I can’t balance. My head is spinning and panic tears through me.
‘It’s okay, Rose. I’m still here.’ He squeezes my hand tightly and the touch anchors me, steadies me. A second later, my vision returns, but the feeling of disorientation remains. I blink a few times, trying to make sure I can fully see.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you.’ Jonas’s face is pinched with guilt.
‘No … I … I asked. Thank you. That’s just … wow.’ I shake my head, checking my balance is intact. ‘How many people can you do that to at once?’ If he can target a few people at the same time … I can see why he didn’t bother cementing any alliances.
‘Just one target,’ he tells me. ‘One person at a time. But as long as I have a direct line of sight on them, it doesn’t matter how far away I am. It’s a fairly powerful tool.’ He slides me a nervous look. ‘It will likely work best if I pair up with someone. I disorient the mark while the other person lands the blow.’
‘Makes sense,’ I say, wondering if he’s thinking what I hope he is.
It’s only as I go to speak again that I realise he hasn’t let go of my hand. Not only that, but our fingers are intertwined. It’s reassuringly warm and almost enough to distract me from the pain in my left hand. Almost. As his eyes meet mine, his fingers graze my jaw. A swarm of butterflies takes flight in my stomach.
‘I thought about you.’ His voice is close to a whisper. ‘I thought aboutyou almost every day since you left. Like somehow I knew I’d get to see you again.’
‘I thought about you, too,’ I respond, inching closer to him. ‘Your father was one of the only people who was kind to us after everything that happened.’
Rather than continuing to lean closer, the way I expected him to, Jonas stiffens slightly, then drops his hand from my face and stands.
‘I should go,’ he says abruptly. ‘Find another place to sleep. But I’ll see you at the ball.’
‘Right, yes.’ The sudden change in atmosphere feels more tense than just an average brush-off, but what the hell could have caused it, I have no idea. Then again, perhaps it’s for the best. I’m here for a reason, and it’s time I focus on that. That means no distractions. Not yet.
Chapter 12
The room is unnervingly still once Jonas is gone, and I rest for a moment on the too-soft bed. I’m so used to the constant noises of the slums: the hustle and bustle, the cries of children continuing well into the night, the drunken bellows of those lucky enough to afford drink to lose themselves in, and the quiet murmurs of prayers from those who are desperate to believe that this will not be their fate.
Here, there’s nothing, and I miss the reassurance of Kay’s steady presence beside me, even if she does snore. I can hear muted footsteps below me, Rettlings talking softly and moving around. But there are no screams or cries. With nothing to break the quiet, it reminds me of a mausoleum. The thought isn’t a reassuring one.
I heave myself off the bed and turn to my bags. With Jonas having emptied the wardrobe, there’s more than enough room for me to place my own belongings inside, and given the quality of the robes Dinah gifted me, it only seems right to hang them up. As my fingers run over the silks and furs, I think again of Kay. Has Artur fetched her yet?
If not Artur, then Ruben will surely have her, I reassure myself, trying to push the anxiety down.
Once the clothes are hanging, I need to work out what to do with the satchel and the rest of the items. There’s a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, but there’s no key for the lock. What I need is somewhere secure. Somewhere hidden.
I turn on the spot, taking in the brick walls and wooden floorboards.Everyone has things they want to hide, and I suspect the guard who usually bunks here isn’t any different. I start to tap my foot along the floor, hoping to hear the hollow sound of a hidden compartment, even moving the bed to check beneath it. When I’ve no luck with the floor, I move on to the wall, tapping the bricks and dragging the only chair around with me so I can try the highest corners. I feel myself growing more and more despondent with each fruitless knock, and I’m just about to give up when I remember the bathroom.
As though led by a guiding hand, I move straight to the sink and tap the tiles below it. My ears are met with a crisp echo, and a minute later I’ve prized off the white tile and found a decently sized gap behind it. It’s not quite big enough for the entire satchel, but it’s large enough to slide in several bags of the rarer seeds Dinah gave me, not to mention the two smaller daggers I found while going through the rest of the bag. For the copper-hilted one, I take one of the straps from the bag, wrap it around my thigh, and sheath the dagger into place. I’m sure the other Rettlings will have properly crafted holsters for their weapons, but this works perfectly well, and the incident with Zara has taught me not to go anywhere unprotected.
With my limited belongings away and secure, I drop onto the bed, only for my stomach to growl. Loudly. Korvane’s balls never used to begin until the sun had set, and I don’t expect this one will be any different, which means it will likely be hours and hours until I get to eat unless I go find something for myself. Though before I leave, there’s one other thing I want to do …
I head into the bathroom, strip off, and start the shower. The steam billows off the water and I step beneath the spray with a happy sigh, which quickly dissipates as the hot water hits the burned skin on my thigh. I wince but persevere.
After, as I dress in a pair of clean trousers and a plain brown top – standard colour choices for the slums as they hide the dirt – I note just how gaunt my face is and how pale my complexion. The sooner I put some more weight on, the better. And hopefully, that’s going to start now.
Grateful that I don’t have to go back past all the other doors, I take my rickety metal staircase down to where it meets the sturdier stone steps beneath it and continue descending.
The staircase opens at the far end of the hall I saw earlier, which is still empty of both staff and Rettlings. I assume the kitchen workers have been summoned to the king’s quarters to prepare for tonight’s feast and that I’llbe able to sneak in and grab something to eat without being seen, but as I take the first steps towards the kitchen, a sound stops me.
There are people talking. Or, more specifically, laughing.
My heart drums a fraction faster as I listen in, trying to recognise the voices – not that it’s likely I will, unless it’s Jonas’s, of course – but I quickly realise that isn’t the case.
My stomach growls again, and I reach down and feel the dagger on my thigh. I was a damn good fighter fourteen years ago – for a nine-year-old – but one blade and rusty skills aren’t going to cut it against the full magic and strength of several well-trained Rettlings. Deciding it’s probably best to avoid any kind of confrontation for now, I turn on my heel. After all, it’ll hardly be the first time I’ve gone hungry.
A rich male voice rises from behind me, stopping me again. From his accent, I’m fairly sure he hails from the Eastern Isles. ‘You don’t need to go. We’re not a threat. I promise.’
