‘He’s trying to be helpful,’ Benny says sharply.
‘Well, if he could do it without sounding quite so condescending?—’
‘Guys,’ Llinos cuts in. ‘I get that the impending inauguration is making us all nervous, but this isnothing. It’s not even a trial. And there’s no way this is scarier than last night. I mean, at least we’re in comfy clothes, right?’
Her attempt at levity fails, and tension rolls through the carriage. And we’ve still got one heck of a journey ahead of us. I’ve heard that several of Etta’s priestesses have powers of portation and can move between locations in an instant, but you’d have to have an insane amount of strength to move all the Rettlings.
‘You show fealty to Etta, too,’ I say, noting the spiral marks on Llinos’s face, although the two lines – one wavy, one straight – above her brow mark her main God as Niairah, the Goddess of Air and Fire. Fitting, considering her gift as a wind-wielder. I wonder who Kyor’s Gods are, though I’d bet a pint of blood the Goddess Yordenrin is there. That man has chaos written all over him.
‘My aunt is a priestess of Etta’s,’ Llinos tells me. ‘So we’ve strong family ties to the Goddess.’
‘My mother was raised by a priestess when she was abandoned in the slums,’ I reply, surprisingly grateful we have yet more to bond over. It’s been a long time since I’ve found myself wanting to form friendships, and given that we’re in direct competition, forming one with Llinos probably isn’t the wisest thing to do, but I don’t think I could end our burgeoning friendship even if I should. I need it too much, and I think she does too.
‘Sorry, not to be rude, but if your mother was abandoned in the slums, how were you a noble?’ Benny joins in the conversation.
‘My father,’ I explain. ‘He was a noble.’
‘Barely.’
The word is muttered under her breath, but it’s loud enough to ensure all eyes fall on Estel. I’m really starting to regret my decision to invite her to join us. She clearly has a very large rod up her arse.
Everyone’s questioning gazes return to me, and I’m not sure why I’m hesitant to tell them my father’s story. After all, the fact that they stayed beside me after learning of my connection to the queen’s death tells me these are good people. Still, I suppose it has to come out at some point.
‘He was a bastard,’ I say, ‘born to a woman in the third ring. My grandfather’s actual wife couldn’t have any children, but when my father wasnine years old, they could already see how much power he had, and so my grandparents took him in and raised him as their own. There are some in the High Hold who held that against him …’ I shoot a glare at Estel, though she doesn’t look like she gives a shit.
‘And then he went and married for “love,” which was a surefire way of weakening family lines and screwing with centuries of alliances in the High Hold. Real romantic,’ she scoffs. ‘Not that I suspect a bastard had many allies.’
I grit my teeth and force myself not to reply.
An uncomfortable silence descends, and I catch Benny’s eye. He sends Estel a side-eye accompanied by a jerk of his head that tells me he’d be more than happy to push her out of the carriage if I wanted. With my lips pressed tightly together, I manage to suppress a chuckle, but my spirits lift. Estel may think less of me for my roots, but Benny doesn’t give a shit.
‘So,’ Llinos says, breaking the silence, ‘how about this weather we’re having?’
I’m beginning to really love these islanders.
The longer we’re moving, the more varied the sounds and smells that drift in from outside become, and eventually I recognise the familiar stench of the slum. I’m not the only one who smells it.
‘Gods, how can anyone live in this stench?’ Jonas says in revulsion, only to immediately realise his mistake. ‘Rose, I’m so … I didn’t think. I’m?—’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, wishing he wasn’t sitting straight across from me so I could avoid looking at him. I shrug lightly. ‘You get used to it.’
With people now steering clear of the topic of families and previous living situations, conversation moves to the trials. We list all the ones we can remember, including the delightful time the Rettlings were forced to free themselves from underwater chambers before the air ran out, and another trial where they had to catch and hogtie an unbonded dire wolf. Apparently, a record number died that year. Through it all, my gaze constantly flickers upwards to the sky, almost as though I’m expecting another raven to appear. Thankfully, there’s no sign of any. That’s a good thing, right?
Thick clouds are all that’s visible through the skylight when suddenly we are plunged into utter darkness.
‘Well, we’re definitely underground,’ Benny says after the unrelenting darkness has continued for a few minutes.
We must be nearly there.
The Sunken Temple is a place whispered about with reverence, even in the slums. It’s shaped like an inverted cone, going hundreds of feet underground, and was carved by the Gods or giants – or so the story goes. Down its sloping marble walls winds a procession of stone steps, descending into shadow, upon which spectators may sit to watch events in the arena. As a holy place, the Sunken Temple is rarely open to the public, but access is granted during the Retterheld. Being here is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I’d be lying if I said excitement wasn’t fizzing in my veins.
From across the carriage, a hand reaches out in the dark and touches my knee.
‘You okay?’ Jonas’s voice echoes.
‘I’m good,’ I murmur quietly.
‘Is it me, or have we been going down for ages?’ Coulter asks plaintively. ‘Is this right?’
