I’m not the person I was the last time I left. I’ve moved on, whether I like it or not.
And when I graduate, I’ll be given housing in the Bonded City, in the Strategos neighborhood. I’ll be expected to live there whenever I’m not at the front. It’s still unclear to me whether I’ll be able to bring my mom—and Saela—to live with me.
Maybe that’s why I get the overwhelming feeling that this it—the final goodbye.
This place will never truly be my home again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
When I return to the castle, the Strategos common area is buzzing with pre-ball excitement. The air is thick with perfume and anticipation. My fellow Rawbonds dart back and forth between rooms in various states of undress, as usual unashamed to show a little skin, helping each other with hair and makeup and complicated clothing.
I’m still dreading the ball, but I find myself warmed by the air of cheerful chaos. It’s quite a contrast to yesterday’s grief—and to the usual military precision of our daily lives.
“Meryn! There you are!”
Izabel and Venna erupt from the dorm room and corner me with identical conspiratorial grins. The eagerness in their expressions fills me with half affection and half dread.
“Hey,” I say cautiously.
“Don’t ‘hey’ us like this is just any old day!” Izabel exclaims, grabbing my arm. “We have a royalballto prepare for! Come see the dress we brought for you!”
Venna takes my other arm and they tug me forcefully into the dorm.
Embarrassment and gratitude keep me silent as they present the dress to me. It has an off-the shoulder silver lace bodice and a black satin skirt with a large slit up the side. The cut of the bodice is low and revealing.
I can’t say I’m surprised by the style; after all, the goal of tonight for the Bonded is to look as sexy as possible in front of all the nobles there to ogle them.
“Now, we know it’s a bit dated,” Izabel says apologetically, as if I have any clue what up-to-date Bonded fashions look like, or would be offended by the relevancy of a dress. “It was the most modest thing we had, though. It’s only been worn once—to our cousin’s sixteenth nameday celebration a few years ago. You have fantastic legs, so we thought the slit would suit you.”
I blink at her. No one has ever told me I have fantastic legs before.
It’s amusing that either of them find this dress modest, though.
“What do you think?” Venna asks. “Do you like it?” They both gaze hopefully at me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, taking the dress. “Thank you. Really.”
Izabel frowns. “You’re sure? You seem a little upset.”
“No. Shit. I’m sorry,” I mutter. “It’s not the dress.” I pause, thinking about my trip to the city—about Mom and Igor and leaving my home behind. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
Izabel nods in understanding. “You’re nervous about the ball. I totally understand. But don’t worry, okay? Like I told you before Presentation, you don’t need to hook up with any nobles if you don’t want to, it’s not required of us.”
I muster a smile and another thank you. I’m not sure I could even explain what I’m feeling—or that they would understand if I could.
“Go try it on!” Venna says. “We’ll help you with your hair and makeup after we’re done getting ready.”
I nod and head for my room, relieved to have a moment alone. I need to get my head screwed on straight. The ball might be a party, but it’s not just for fun. This, like everything here, is another Trial. We’ve survived our individual packs’ culling, but now we’re going to be thrown into a social competition.
Everyone tonight will be trying to impress King Cyril and the hundreds of nobles visiting from the seven fiefdoms in Nocturna. They’ll all be watching, judging. I need to be clear and alert. Ready for anything.
We’re all still jockeying for rank within our own packs, too. After my survival in the Purge, the competitive side of me is coming alive again. I’m not just trying to avoid death anymore, I’d like to actually earn the respect of the other Rawbonds.
Anassa growls an agreement.
Hopefully this dress will be enough to help me look the part of the role I’m ready to claim.
I take a steadying breath as I push open my bedroom door—and then freeze on the threshold.
