‘Yes, thank you,’ I tell him gratefully.
The staircase creaks as we climb up to my room.
‘Can I watch?’ I ask him. You still have to have the essence of magic within you to weave, and the stronger it is, the better you are. My mother was great at it. It’s what made her such a phenomenal healer. She taught me a few minor spells when I was young, but my magic wasn’t attuned enough back then, so it’s not something I’m going to be able to use. Not until I win the Retterheld and get my powers back, anyway.
Then I’m going to excel at every damn type of magic this world has to offer.
‘Sure, though it’s not very exciting.’
He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and places his hand on my door as he begins muttering hard consonant sounds that smack of tongue and teeth. When the slightest flicker of light flares across the wood, he removes his hand.
‘All done,’ he says, turning to me. ‘Now you and I are the only people who can go in and out.’
I press my hand against the wood, indulging in the slight tickling of magic that crosses my palm.
‘Sorry?’ I tilt my head as I turn back to look at him. ‘Did you just say you gave yourself permission to enter my bedroom? Whenever you want?’
Just as I’d hoped, that bashful hue colours Jonas’s cheeks.
‘It’s because I’m the one who did the ward,’ he tells me hastily. ‘Obviously, I wasn’t going to let myself in. Not unless you invited me in, that is.’
‘And why would I do that?’
It feels good to flirt unashamedly. Particularly after learning I’ve been daydreaming about bloody Kyor since I first saw him. And from the grin that spreads across Jonas’s face, he doesn’t mind either.
‘How’s your hand?’ he asks, taking my wrist and increasing the tension between us tenfold.
‘Sore,’ I admit.
He brushes his thumb just a little way from the cut. ‘And your leg?’
‘You going to stroke there too?’ I tease, still not sure which way I want his answer to go.
‘Not tonight,’ he says softly, leaning forward and kissing me lightly on the cheek. I’m surprised when I feel a definite pang of disappointment. Maybe I’m not ready to be alone with my thoughts just yet. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. You should get some sleep.’
‘I intend on it,’ I reply. I step into my room and close the door.
A sand bucket, a spelled ward, and angering the king by standing at my side. Jonas Lorathin has grown up well.
Giveneverything that’s happened over the last twelve hours alone, I’m mentally and physically exhausted. And yet sleep refuses to come. Despite being in the softest bed I’ve lain on in a long time, my mind just can’t switch off, thinking about Kay, Jonas, Kyor, and Llinos and Benny. Not to mention the inauguration of our vows tomorrow. My mind is in a constant whirl.
Like the offering to be considered for the Retterheld, the inauguration requires a gift to the Goddess. Last time, it was tears and prayers. This time it’s blood. Thankfully, nothing more than a pinprick is required to bind your mortal body to the Goddess.
The trials begin once the blood sacrifices have been made, and there’s nothing to stop the first trial from starting the moment the inauguration is over. The thought’s enough to make me nauseous.
Night rolls on as I get lost considering all the fates that may await me, and voices start to drift up from the floors below. The Rettlings are letting their hair down tonight, and the dormitory beneath me is noisy. Some are drunkenly singing, some are low-level bickering, and some are moaning, having already found themselves in bed with a companion. Whatever the noise, it’s all complicit in keeping sleep at bay, which is why, when themoon is well into its westerly traverse, I give up the ghost and get out of bed.
Is it safe? No, but neither is going into the Retterheld unprepared.
Pulling my coat tight around me, I cross the courtyard and cut through the large wooden gates that lead to the battle yard. I’ve no idea if the armoury’s weapons are locked up at night, but it doesn’t matter. I only plan on using my own. At least until I push the gates open and step inside.
I stare in awe at the vast space, which is at least three ballrooms long. Only the small entry area under which I stand is under cover. Everything else is open to the elements, with a wall at least thirty feet high blocking the view of what goes on in here from the rest of the palace. Gods, I wouldn’t want to be stuck alone in here with Zara, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t get out alive.
A sense of foreboding settles uncomfortably in my stomach, but I push it aside. She’s the one who came off far worse in the scuffle, and if I wanted a sign that Etta’s on my side, that should be it. Still, better to check my aim with this new dagger than leave it to chance.
As I’m looking for a suitable target, my eye falls on a weapons cabinet only a few feet away, and I decide a quick look won’t hurt.
It’s an impressive array of weapons, with swords, axes, spears – and daggers. Gods, the daggers. My heart flutters as I run my hand along the smooth edges of the blades.
