Ingra was different.
‘Why?’ I once asked when she came back to our bunk, grimy and shivering after spending another night in the Pit. ‘Why do you do it? Drawing attention to yourself, antagonizing Matron like that. Why do you always have to do …something?’
And I remember the way she smiled at me – softly, sadly – her split lip bleeding afresh. ‘Because if I did nothing, I’d become nothing.’
The words weren’t said with venom, but they still stung. For she was brave, unbroken. But me? I was broken before I had the chance to be whole.
I glance to my left, where Ingra is still caught up in some kind of staring contest with Matron. Gritting my teeth, I elbow her gently in the side. Ingra lets out a little huff of air but answers my silent plea, lowering her head with deliberate slowness.
For a moment I think about how different things would be if Ingra were in my shoes. If the magic of our ancestors had been returned toherinstead.Shewouldn’t have been frightened. She wouldn’t have tried to hide. She wouldn’t have wasted her gift. She would’veusedit.
The people of Veridia once controlled and harnessed the power of the desert. I imagine Matron would be neck-deep in quicksand by now.
When the inspection is over, duties are assigned. It comes as little surprise that Ingra will spend the best part of the afternoon mucking out the stables.
For some reason, Matron leaves me until last. I clasp my hands behind my back, willing my shadows to remain hidden.
‘You’ve been granted a new position. Requested personally, I believe.’
I stare at her, uncomprehending. Matron clicks her tongue impatiently and I straighten up, blinking. ‘By – by who?’
‘Don’t ask questions,’ she scolds. ‘Report to the Ignitia Wing, first door on the right.’
The Ignitia Wing? Requested personally?I frown, confusion swamping fear.
‘What’re you waiting for?’ Matron snaps.
I jump, nodding hurriedly, then head to the serf tunnels. There are thousands of them, all interconnected, leading to every floor of the palace. Some, though they’re well hidden, even have direct access to individual chambers – like the ones belonging to the Earth Cleaver, who’s clearly been using them to navigate the place for quite some time, and Hal, who unsealed the secret door behind the screen in his rooms for my use alone.
I wend my way through the pitch-black tunnels. Just as my eyesight has become sharpened, so too have my other senses. I’ve started hearing sounds in the dark that my ears wouldn’t normally pick up. The soft scurrying ofmice beneath floorboards. The slow, rhythmic breathing coming from bunks halfway down the corridor. Everything smells stronger, too. Roses in the palace gardens. The musty, metallic scent of the serf quarters, which sit just above the dungeons, cut into the golden bedrock of the mine. Unfortunately, this heightening of my senses also applies to taste. Food that was once stale is now inedible, the tea leaves swirling at the bottom of my cup unbearably bitter, and fruit even the slightest bit overripe carries the cloying sweetness of rot. Ingra keeps eyeing me suspiciously each time I push my plate away unfinished.
I’m out of breath by the time I emerge into the Ignitia Wing. The first door on the right is ajar. I realize that I’ve been to these chambers before, readying Blaze for what turned out to be her second trial. Cautiously, I reach out and rap twice.
‘Come in,’ trills a familiar voice. ‘It’s open!’
The room beyond is almost identical to Blaze’s, except while hers was blue, this one is red. Crimson tapestries, scarlet cushions and chaises, andclothes– mountains of them.
I startle as a figure emerges from a pile of sparkling vermillion jumpsuits. The girl is tiny, not five feet tall, with periwinkle eyes, freckled skin and a mass of fiery hair.
‘Elva!’ Elaith cries. Then, a little anxiously, ‘It is Elva, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
She pulls a face. ‘Oh please, none of that. It makes me sound about a hundred and three. Besides, technically, I’m not actually highborn. My family are just obscenely rich. Myfather bought us all titles though he’s not fooling anyone. Money can buy nobility, but not noble blood. Anyway, forgive me. I’m rambling. I do that a lot.’
‘You … you wanted to see me?’ I say, a little bemused.
Elaith snaps her fingers. ‘Right, yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to ask, since Blaze isn’t here, would you consider helping me instead?’ My astonishment must be evident, for Elaith hurries on, ‘It’s just, I know she was fond of you, and her hair always lookedsobeautiful. And between you and me, I swear my last serf was stealing my rings.’
This doesn’t surprise me. Clover is known for being a tad light-fingered. I only hope Matron never finds the collection of trinkets hidden beneath her bedroll, or she’ll be facing a far worse fate than the Pit.
‘In any case,’ Elaith continues, ‘what with most of my friends back at Fire Mountain, the twins locked up in a safe house and Spinner nowhere to be found, I could use some company.’ She eyes me hopefully. ‘So, what about it?’
It’s sweet of her to position it as a request though we both know I couldn’t refuse. I muster a tentative smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Yay!’ She bounces up and down with delight, barely clearing my shoulder.
Despite my protests, Elaith helps me unpack and put away all of her belongings.
