“Now,” he snapped. “I’ll be waiting.”
Stepping back inside, I slammed my door with more forcethan necessary. I washed quickly, the water doing little to chase away the simmering frustration coiling in my chest. I pulled on the training uniform, before a familiar weight draped itself across my feet, followed by purring.
“Couscous,” I sighed, glancing down. She rubbed her orange-and-cream fur against me while her striped tail twitched against the floor. Smiling, I bent to pet her, taking comfort in the silkiness beneath my fingers. Then I crossed to the window and unlatched it. Couscous leapt onto the ledge, then sprang onto the trellis outside. Claws catching the wooden lattice, she descended in swift movements, disappearing into the garden below to hunt.
Stepping to the mirror, I regarded myself. The black tunic was too wide and long for me. I noticed the glyph on the sleeve and pressed, the fabric adjusting to fit me perfectly.
It was smooth and expertly woven, with just the right amount of give. The collar framed my neck while the sleeves were fitted to my arms. When I was finished, the supple leather trousers hugged my legs, tailored for movement without restriction, tucked into lightweight yet durable boots. I shrugged on the soft leather jacket, and the silver-embroidered tygers glimmered like moonlight. Lastly, I put on a finely worked leather belt, with holsters expertly placed for ribbons. As I slid my ribbons into place, I found myself wondering about Blake. He was such a contradiction.
I had never possessed such fine clothing. It was another reminder that I didn’t belong. But now I didn’t care. Iwouldwin a spot in the Culling. I would carve out a place for myself, no matter who thought I didn’t deserve it.
Good. Or else I’d need to do some biting, and I hate that before breakfast.Flame’s warm voice curled through my mind.
A breath of laughter escaped me.My kind of girl.
Hurry.
I twisted my damp hair into a long, precise blue braid, Blake’sstrands catching the light. Then, after a moment, I tucked Blake’s heat glyph into my pocket.
He was still fuming outside my door, only this time with a companion.
Thyme, I realized, in his Ambush Cub uniform.
“This is Thyme,” Blake said, arms crossing over his chest as he ran his eyes appreciatively over my fitted uniform. “Though I believe you’re already acquainted.”
Thyme looked pale, like he’d been caught doing something bad.
I jumped to defend him. “He didn’t—”
Blake cut off my defense of the boy with one outstretched hand.
“I’ve assigned him as your squire, through training. He can help you.”With permission nowwas left unsaid. “See her to the training ground,” Blake ordered Thyme, before turning on his heel and stalking away.
Thyme and I exchanged quick smiles before he led the way down the hallway. I followed behind, not sure what to do with the gratitude I felt toward the Ambush Master for assigning Thyme to me, knowing how much it would mean to have a familiar face nearby.
The palace was still quiet at this hour, the corridors bathed in the dim glow of the early morning light. I’d memorized the basic layout yesterday, at least where I had been led through. I knew where the main halls were, the staircases that twisted between floors, the small passages servants used to move unseen.
It was easy enough to tell we were close to the kitchens, with the warm, rich scent of baking bread curling through the air. It was too early for the kitchen staff to be serving food, but I wondered if I might scrounge up a custard-filled bun, maybe even a cup of jasmine tea. I needed to put on weight and muscle if I wasto have any hope of surviving against the huge warriors of this dominion.
As we neared the heavy wooden doors, a sharp voice cut through the quiet. “You noisy little fool! How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet while your betters—”
I paused in the shadow of the doorway.
Thyme didn’t notice menotbehind him any longer, continuing on without glancing back. I turned in to the kitchen light.
A tall thin woman stood with her back to me, long arms folded, fingers wet with spilled broth. A pot lay on its side on the counter, its contents dripping onto the floor. The kitchen smelled sharply of herbs and something burning while a few kitchen maids worked at the counters.
And Nelly stood there like a trapped hamster, her hands wringing in her apron. “I didn’t mean to distract you, Head Cook, even though you do tend to be ill-tempered and just the slightest bit clumsy in the morning.”
The cook turned on her; her bony hand swung through the air.
It never landed.
My fingers clamped down on her wrist. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the clatter of pots and the murmurs of the kitchen staff, who had frozen in place.
“By the bloody anvil, who are you?” The cook sneered, trying to jerk free, but I held firm. Then she took me in. The black and silver of my uniform. The expertly tailored fit. And most important, the embroidered tygers on my sleeves. Recognition flashed in her gaze. “My apologies, Tygress Rider,” she murmured, the hostility melting from her face quickly.
Something old and deep within me came to the fore. “Transfer Nelly to me as my maid permanently, effective immediately.” The words rang out. I didn’t know where that authority in my voice came from. It was as if someone else were speaking for me.
