Benny and Llinos stretch out their hands, revealing ugly red marks. They might not be bleeding, but they certainly don’t look like mine.
‘It’s just luck,’ I say quietly. ‘Some people bled, some people didn’t.’
‘I’m not sure anything in this place is luck,’ Loch replies, staring at the carriage wall. No one speaks again until the horses draw to a stop.
As the others clamber out of the carriage and into the battle yard, all planning on heading to the healers as instructed, I brush my hand against Jonas’s arm.
‘I want to go to the library,’ I tell him, lowering my voice, keen not to be overheard. ‘Is there a way in through this arc?’ Back when I lived in the eastern arc, you could access the library through the basement, and I’m hoping it’s the same here.
‘The library?’ he questions.
‘I just want some books to read.’ I shrug. ‘It’s been awhile.’
It’s only half a lie. I definitely plan on finding some reading material while I’m down there, but mainly, I want to see what I can find on my priestess-gifted dagger. Until I know how the blade works, I’m not sure I can risk using it. And as the only times the Rettlings are supposed to leave the barracks are for balls or trials, I need a direct route that will allow me to get to the library unseen.
‘The other arcs all have routes down from the lower floors,’ Jonas replies, chewing on his bottom lip as he contemplates my question. ‘So if there is, I assume it would be the same here?’
He doesn’t know any more than I do. I sigh internally. I’ll have to look for myself.
‘You want me to come with you?’ Jonas asks, but the question is half-hearted at best.
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s fine. You need to go to the healers. Besides, I could do with some space.’
‘I get it.’ From the way his eyes soften, he’s telling the truth. ‘See you later?’
‘Sure.’
He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the cheek. When he moves back, his eyes lock on mine. ‘I know this is going to be tough, Rose, and I still don’t understand what Etta was thinking, letting you into this, but I’m glad you’re here.’
It’s only as Jonas heads to the healers that his words sink in. He doesn’t understand what Etta was thinking – shorthand for: he thinks I’m going to get myself killed. It’s not exactly a vote of confidence. Still, I don’t have time to worry about that now. Instead, I turn on my heel and make my way down into the lower floors.
The kitchen is the only place I’ve been downstairs, so I figure that’s as good a place as any to start. Even if there isn’t access, hopefully the staff will be able to point me in the right direction.
As I take the stairs down from the dining hall, the clatter of pots and pans, and the scent of roasting meats, weave their way up to me, and I already know I’m going to find the place far more alive than the night before. I’ve just reached the bottom steps when a laugh catches me by surprise. It’s a young man’s laugh, low and resonant yet also warm and frivolous. It feels so at odds with the day I’ve had, but so unbelievably needed. Like fresh air after all those years in the slums.
For a heartbeat I stand there, absorbing the sound, as if it could block out all the pain of the day, but when it stops, I blink myself back to realityand take another step forward into a cluster of women dressed in brown smocks, busy at work. The man, who I assume was the owner of the laugh, is sitting on a table with his back to me.
With a sudden sense of nervousness, I clear my throat, and several pairs of eyes turn to me. All questioning. Some fearful.
‘Sorry.’ I swallow the lump that has filled my throat. ‘I wondered if you could help me?’
‘Rettlings aren’t supposed to be down here.’ The woman who speaks is shorter than me, with honey-blonde hair and round eyes. ‘Food’s served in an hour. You’ll have to wait until then, I’m afraid. We weren’t expecting you back from the vows so early. We can only do so much.’
Her exasperated tone – and the comment itself – take me by surprise.
‘Sorry, I … that isn’t what I’m here for.’ I stumble over my words. ‘I wanted to know, to ask, if you know the way to the library?’
‘The library?’ She looks confused. ‘Oh, well. Maybe …’
Rather than replying, she turns to the man on the table, who hasn’t moved an inch. For the first time I look at him properly. He’s dressed in a plain black shirt, through which I can see his back is rippled with muscles, and there’s something familiar about the cut of his hair and the tension fixed across his shoulders.
I realise all too late who it is. Kyor. The life ruiner. Short of turning around and running back up the stairs to my warded room, there’s nothing I can do. And even then, I don’t think I’d be fast enough. Still, he won’t kill me here, not in front of the cooks – I’m at least certain of that – so I stomp hard on any fear that wants to rise.
In one smooth, swift motion, Kyor jumps down off the table and turns around. Rather than look at me, he faces the cook, flashing her the type of smile I didn’t think he was capable of.
‘It’s okay, Leilah,’ he says with an unexpectedly roguish wink. ‘I’ll take care of this.’
He found the time to remove his furs and put on a shirt, but he’s only managed to half-clean his face; blue smudges remain on his eyebrow, and there’s a shadow of stubble around his lips.
