“Are you certain?” Head Cook asked, lifting an eyebrow. “We shall be glad to be rid of her. This one is a trial.”
“Not to me,” I said.
Nelly’s eyes shone. She fumbled to take off her apron.
I gave her a nod as I left the kitchen, swiping a warm bun from the cooling rack.
I followed the hallway to its end, finding a large wooden door. I took a deep breath as I stepped outside. The air was cold, carrying the damp scent of stone and snow. Despite my clothing, I was glad for the warmth glyph. The first light of dawn crept over the high palace eaves, casting a soft glow on the large courtyard. It was paved with smooth flagstones cleared of snow, its surface worn from years of footsteps.
A massive stone basin stood at the center, its water flowing in steady streams, the sound a quiet backdrop to the morning stillness. I wondered if glyphs kept it from freezing. Manicured hedges bordered the walkways, and rows of ginkgo trees lined the covered galleries, where lanterns burned low, their flames flickering in the breeze.
Though most of the palace still slept, the courtyard was already stirring. Guards in polished armor stood at their posts. A few sentries patrolled along the high walls. Servants moved briskly, carrying bamboo baskets of laundry or hauling buckets of water from the wells. A stable hand led a pair of horses across the yard, their hooves clopping against the stone.
Across the courtyard, the wide archway leading to the warrior training grounds loomed tall, its iron gates open. Beyond it, the grounds stretched into the distance, the dirt-packed arenas and sparring rings still quiet except for the distant clang of a blacksmith already at work.
The scent of burning coal and hot metal carried faintly on the wind.
A quick patter of footsteps approached. Thyme sprinted toward me.
“Where did you go?” he panted, eyes wide. “They’ve already started!”
He didn’t wait for an answer before turning and heading toward the training grounds. I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and followed.
Thyme wove through the courtyard at a quick pace, slipping between servants. I kept close behind, my boots tapping against the stone as we passed beneath the archway.
The scent of sweat, earth, and faint traces of metal filled the air as we stepped onto the packed-dirt field. It was enormous, stretching far beyond the walls of the courtyard, with multiple sparring rings, wooden dummies scored with blade marks, and racks of weapons lining the perimeter.
A few warriors stood near the edges, oiling armor or sharpening blades, but my attention was immediately drawn to the wide track at the center of the grounds. The Tyger Warriors were already moving. More than a dozen figures ran in tight formation, their movements precise, power in each stride. All Silvers, of course. All yangs, except I spotted the gleam of Malissa’s long light hair.
Beside them, tygers thundered across the dirt, muscles rippling beneath their thick coats. The ground shook beneath their combined force, dust kicking up around them as their breath came in powerful puffs of steam against the morning chill. I didn’t see my Flame.
No one spoke as they ran. The Bond between warrior and beast seemed silent but absolute. Each tyger matched the stride of its human partner, their paces synchronized like two parts of the same body. It wasn’t just running. It seemed to be a test of endurance that set them apart from ordinary soldiers.
Thyme shot me a quick look over his shoulder. “Hurry,” he said between breaths. “You’re going to have to make up what you missed.”
I nodded, watching as a familiar figure among the runners came into view.
Blake. His bronze hair was damp with sweat, his expression focused as he kept pace with Kingsolver, whose massive paws barely seemed to touch the ground before launching forward again. Even in the brutal efficiency of training, there was something effortless about the way they moved together.
Thyme tugged at my sleeve. “Come on.”
Only we didn’t make it. Blake eyed me, turning and stepping out of the moving circle, Kingsolver leaping majestically into place behind him. At his break, the others slowed. Jace and his tyger were the first to join Blake.
Jace approached me with a smile. “Good to see you, Rubi.”
I didn’t miss the quiet glare Blake threw toward the Captain of the Guard.
“Everyone, fall in line,” Blake shouted, eyes piercing. “Let us begin properly, now that our newest warrior has decided to show.”
19
The warriors gathered at the center of the training field, the morning sun glinting off of the tygers’ pelts. Blake stood before us, tall and grim, Kingsolver sitting at his side. He swept his assessing gaze over us before he spoke.
“You are the elite Tyger Warriors,” Blake said, his voice carrying. “You were chosen by your tyger. You are fast, brutal, and disciplined. But that is no longer enough.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch, the weight of it settling into our bones.
“The Raveling is not a tournament. It is not a game. The seals to the Demon Realm are failing. If we lose, it will not be titles or crowns at risk. It will be the lives of everyone in this dominion, and the dominions beyond.”
