She didn’t respond to him.
We passed beneath the torches, beneath the eyes, beneath the heat and stench of too much … too much noise, too much hunger.
The woman led us through it all without flinching.
Behind us, the feast raged on. But ahead—my fate waited, teeth bared and patient.
The doors groaned shut.
Chapter14
Nomiki,” the woman threw over her shoulder in a brisk voice. “That’s my name. I won’t repeat it.”
Her sandals struck the stone with clipped precision as we scrambled to keep pace. Light played over the lines etched into her face, the creases clinging to darkness like grime in old wounds.
Behind us, a handful of soldiers fell into step, spears upright, eyes forward, the groan of metal shifting with every stride.
“Your titles are gone. Your pasts are dust. You’re not princesses or paupers now. You’re chosen, and that means three things: you listen, you learn, and you donotembarrass me.”
She rounded a corner, not bothering to check if we were still with her.
“You will rise at dawn. You will not eat before you’re told. You will wear what you are given, speak when addressed, and keep your gods-damned hands to yourselves unless instructed otherwise. Is that unclear?”
A few girls muttered no, others shook their heads. I didn’t speak at all.
Nomiki clicked her tongue. “I want a real answer next time. None of this simpering mouse noise. You want to cry? Do it in your sleep, and quietly.”
The sound of revelry behind us faded into memory, replaced by the hush of cold stone. Here, in the corridor, everything felt tighter. Sterner. The air itself seemed to demand obedience.
She didn’t stop walking. “You’ll stay in your rooms unless summoned. No wandering. No fraternizing with anyone outside of the other chosen. If you’re seen without a reason, I’ll assume you’re looking for trouble—and you’ll find it. Likely dressed in the red of the rejected.”
One of the girls lifted her head like she might ask why. Nomiki paused at another heavy bronze door and turned to face us fully for the first time. The lookshe gave was answer enough. Her brow lifted and the girl’s mouth snapped shut like a trap. Whatever question had been forming withered in her throat.
She skimmed the line of us with a soldier’s precision. “Some of you think the Trials will be about charm. About grace. About pleasing His Majesty.”
Her lip curled.
“They won’t be. The king has plenty of ornaments. A Queen of Sparta is something else.”
A soldier stepped forward and pulled the door open with a grunt. The hinges creaked like an old beast waking. Nomiki didn’t thank him. She simply strode through, then turned back once we’d followed her into the dim corridor beyond. “This is your wing,” she said. “Your rooms are inside. You’ll be assigned one each. No swapping. No sneaking. No visitors. You’re not here to make friends.”
Her eyes flicked from girl to girl, pausing just long enough to ensure the words stuck.
“You may remove your veils in here,” she added, “and only in this wing. If I catch you barefaced outside this threshold, I’ll assume you’re trying to flaunt yourself and you will be dismissed from the Trials.”
She let that hang for a moment, the silence thickening between the rhythmic beat of the torches.
“Now,” she said briskly, “line up. Let’s get this over with.”
We lined up like schoolgirls as Nomiki held up a thin strip of parchment, squinting at the names scratched there. “Damaris,” she barked. A small girl with hunched shoulders stepped forward. “Room one. Far left.” She pointed, then moved down the list. “Theia. Two. Iris. Three.”
One by one, each of the chosen were called, vanishing through narrow doorways set along the corridor like tombs awaiting occupants.
“Helena,” Nomiki said, her tone unreadable.
I stepped forward.
She didn’t bother pointing. “Last door. End of the hall.”
