I glare at Devin as we fall into step back down the hallway. “What do you know of it, then? Tell me.”
Devin’s narrowed eyes slide to me. “Keep walking.”
“Well, if it’s something dangerous, I imagine you wouldn’t want your little spy to be killed, now would you? Even if Cyrus didn’t command you to protect me, who else would be able to get close enough to the women to figure out who’s here underfalse pretenses?”
He grumbles, “All you need to worry about is making sure the other ladies don’t catch onto what you’re truly here for.”
“Perhaps I let them in on our little secret then, if you aren’t willing to share any information.”
He whips to me, eyes full of threat. His forearm braces against my throat, the golden vambrace cold against my neck as he rushes me back to the wall. My back slams against it as he pins me there.
Leaning forward, he hisses, “This is your first and last warning: you will not threaten this plan. This is not some silly little game. If I find you’ve done anything to undermine everything we’ve worked for, you will be six feet under. Alive until you cannot take a single breath more. Is that clear?”
I can’t help the small laugh bubbling up my chest as I meet his gaze. He presses his forearm into my throat harder, making it difficult to croak out, “So aggressive, Devin. It’s disappointing, isn’t it? That you have to lean on violence just to get your point across. Are you not able to rely on your words alone?”
His eyes narrow, but he drops his arm. My smile grows—I’ve struck a nerve in him. Whatever is between us only sours with time.
“What would Cyrus think, if he knew of this little,” I flick a finger back and forth between us, “encounterwe just had?”
“You wouldn’t,” he spits at the ground.
There’s a certain pleasure I find in this triumph. Snorting, I walk down the hall, not waiting for him to lead. Ignoring the lingering ache in my throat from the weight of his vambrace, I keep my chin held high.
His footsteps are close behind me. “You’ll be sure to remember the only reason you’re here is that I reluctantly agreed with Cyrus on your assignment. That can change quickly.”
I laugh, slowing my pace to look over my shoulder at him before I turn the corner into the hallway housing my room. “Why is it I know your word means next to nothing, Devin? Even if youhadrefused, you’d have no power compared to Cyrus’ wishes. If he weren’t king, he’d still outmatch a man as pathetic as you.”
He’s quietly fuming when he strides past me, reaching for my door and pushing it open. Once I’m in, I turn to face him as he pulls the door toward him. Just before it closes completely, he whispers into the crack, “Make sure you crawl.”
Fourteen
- LYRA -
The birds chirping outside are not enough to ease my anxiety this time. It stirs in my gut like a storm, no matter how hard I try to tamp it down. Even as I glimpse the gardens, trees swaying gently in a breeze and carrying me back to my conversation with Cyrus about gardening, I can’t distract myself from today’s reality.
It's the first day of trials.
When the lady’s maids arrive and deliver a ribboned box I’m to open, I skip a breath when I remove the lid. Inside is a set of black leather clothes. The torso is armored with what looks like red dragon scales, and matching red trim lines the seams of the suit.
“What is this for?” I ask in a trembling voice.
The lead lady’s maid shakes her head, either unable or unwilling to answer. Wordlessly, she and the other two work on dressing me, braiding my hair back into two plaits. Once they’re done, they turn me to face the mirror.
I look like someone else entirely.
Not someone fighting for the mere chance of marriage—but about to fight in awar. My hands begin to shake, and I turn a wide-eyed gaze back to the women. “Please. Can you tell me anything? I-I’m not very skilled physically. I don’t have any experience with weapons or?—”
The lead lady’s maid squeezes my shoulder with a small smile. “He will not let you be harmed. This?” She teases the dragon scales overlapping on my abdomen. “These are dragon scales. Nearly impenetrable and fire-resistant.”
It does nothing to help. Instead, it kicks me up into a higher state of panic. “No. Whatever this trial is?—”
“Shhh.” She brushes my cheek, then shakes herhead. “He only told me to tell you to keep your head down, okay? Head down until the finish. Then back behind when you smell it.”
“I don’t understand what that means,” I whimper.
She and the other two lady’s maids usher me out into the hallway where the rest of the women buzz anxiously.
All of us are dressed in similar leather clothes. But rather than red dragon scales, we are an array of colors. Blue, representing water dragons. Green, for earth. And red, for fire dragons.
