‘You’re not going to go unnoticed like that.’ She smirks, and I can’t help but agree. She was right about fixing the dagger in my hair. Combined with the leather of the shorts and the dagger on my thigh, I don’t look like someone you’d want to fuck with. Though hopefully the incident with Zara has already confirmed that.
‘Can I help you get ready?’ I ask Llinos, aware of just howunconfident I sound. Neither my hair nor my clothing skills are half as good as hers, and I get the feeling she knows it.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘It won’t take me long, though I’ll probably need to hurry the guys. You know how they like to preen and pamper themselves. Well, Benny does, at least. See you in the dining room in twenty?’
‘Sounds good,’ I reply with a chuckle.
It’s only when she goes that I see the raven has returned and is tilting his head as he looks at me.
‘It’s a ball, okay?’ I snap, not sure if talking to a raven can cause even worse luck than one simply appearing in your presence. ‘This is what people wear to balls. I think.’ As I finish speaking, he flutters his wings before taking flight and leaving me alone. The twist of fear in my chest is accompanied by an undeniable surge of adrenaline.
As much as Llinos’s comment about not going unnoticed unnerved me at first, I think it might actually be useful. Because it means the king and the prince are likely to notice me among the crowd of competitors.
It’s time they realise exactly who Etta let into this tournament.
Managing the rickety,impractical stairs in the skirt is even harder than scaling a damn wall, and my nerves definitely aren’t helping. Given that I now have a small cluster of people I feel relatively safe in front of, I should be feeling slightly less fearful, but instead, my throat is growing drier and drier with every breath, and by the time I reach the bottom of the staircase, I wish I’d had a drink of water. But there’s no way I’m going back up. My best bet, I decide as I continue down the narrow – but substantially less perilous – servants’ staircase, is to get myself a glass of water in the kitchen where I met Llin and the others earlier.
Jai is the only member of the group already in the dining hall, and after offering him a quick nod of acknowledgement, I head for the kitchen … only to find my route blocked.
For a split second, he doesn’t see me – he’s too focused on the bottle of drink that he swigs from like he’s suffering from an uncontrollable thirst – and I stand frozen, my stomach somersaulting at the sight of his familiar icy-blue eyes.
He’s not dressed for a ball – hell, he’s barely dressed at all – and I can’thelp the way my eyes scan his upper body – the hard muscles that carve his flesh and the tattoos rippled over them. His skin is decorated with scars, but rather than mar him, they seem to highlight all his perfections. Never have I known my body to react so instinctively and viscerally to a man.
His eyes find mine and he drops the bottle from his lips. ‘Kultavaris?’ His voice is just as deep and gravelly as I remember, but the use of my name causes my heart to jolt.
‘You know who I am?’
‘Everyone knows who you are, daughter of the Queenkiller.’ He waits a beat, then slowly and deliberately drags his gaze down my body, lingering on my exposed legs. Heat flickers in his eyes, dark and hungry, and I feel the pull between us coil tighter, as if the air is contracting, eliminating the space between us. ‘That’s one hell of a dress. Not trying to fit in with the ladies of the court, are you?’
‘I’m not here to make friends.’
His expression tightens. ‘No, you’re here to die.’
‘I’m here to win,’ I snap back.
He laughs, the sound patronisingly amused. ‘You’re a lamb among wolves. I don’t know what the fuck Etta was thinking, letting you in. You’re doomed.’
‘You’re hardly the first person to tell me that today, yet Zara Duarte is the one holed up with the healers, and I’m standing here, enjoying this riveting conversation,’ I spit out, hating the condescending tone of his voice. Hating thatanyonehas written me off so easily.
His eyebrows rise. ‘Is she now?’ He looks at me, his gaze now appraising instead of hot. ‘Well, well. Perhaps the rose has some thorns after all.’ He takes another swig from the bottle and pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against before staggering deeper into the kitchen, no doubt hoping to find more drink. He’s drunk before the Retterheld has even begun, and yet he thinksI’mthe one who’s going to die out there?
Frissons of something I don’t want to name continue to roll through me as I watch him go, unable to haul my eyes away from his back. Those perfect black circles etched in his skin. Only once I’m sure he’s gone do I make my way into the hall to join the others. My need for a drink is all but forgotten, a very different type of thirst having taken over.
‘Wow, Rose.’Coulter’s jaw hangs loose when he sees me walking over to join them. My interaction with the blue-eyed problem was evidently just long enough for them all to gather. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Thank you. As do you.’
He drops his gaze to the ground as the tops of his ears colour bashfully.
I’m not the only one who’s stepped their attire up a notch. Llinos is in a bright red dress that must have a train twice as long as mine, while the boys are wearing black shirts with sharp dinner jackets. They all look impressively smart, though there’s something about the cut and stitching of Benny’s – not to mention the deep purple hue and the gold accents – that makes it look a grade above the rest. The quiet confidence I sensed from him before has been kicked up another notch.
‘I guess we’re not the only group who thought to meet here first,’ Loch says. ‘Though I think a few groups have already moved on.’
He’s right. Four distinct clusters have formed around us, one with notably older participants than the others. It’s the biggest group, with around a dozen people. Knights. Each one of them is ripped, with taut muscles displayed even from the women’s backless ballgowns. Unlike the group I find myself attached to, these men are shirtless beneath their jackets, revealing the intricate designs of their chest tattoos: circles of Wrohelm, the chevrons of Rowell, and the three bands of Dorain, all intertwined with various symbols. Not just for their Gods, but for their families, too. Their personal desires. But all of them have one thing in common: the lined symbol of a wolf. They are all bonded, which means to be here, they must be separated from their dire wolves. I wonder if it hurts or if it’s like the separation I feel from Kay – a dull throbbing behind my ribs.
Thankfully, I don’t recognise any of the faces in the other groups, so either the Rowell Rettlings have already left or they’re not ready yet. Assuming Zara even makes it to the ball. I don’t know how long it would take healers to work on burns like that, but I can’t imagine it would be quick.
‘So shall we get going?’ Llinos loops her arm through mine. ‘First ball of the trials. Ready?’
