Chapter 4
he warmth of Ruben’s hug is everything I remembered and a thousand times better besides.T It doesn’t matter that we’re now in a fully heated home, with no need for his power to stop my extremities from freezing. I cling to him, and I don’t want to let go. From the way his entire body relaxes as he holds me, he feels the same way.
It’s only when a throat clears behind us that I realise how long we’ve been holding each other. ‘So … any chance of some introductions?’ Benny asks, sounding amused.
Reluctantly, Ruben and I break apart. The comparative rush of cold is almost instantaneous, and Ruben’s eyes linger on me with a warmth that isn’t purely platonic, making me flush. ‘Benny, this is Ruben, a good friend of mine. From before the Retterheld.’ I lay just a little extra emphasis on the word friend. ‘Ruben?’ Benny says with a smirk as he takes in Ruben’s tousled good looks. ‘You’d think I’d have heard your name before, but I suspect there’s a reason she kept you secret. Not wanting to share, Rose?’ ‘Shut up,’ I say, but I can’t stop grinning. After everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours, having Ruben here feels like a
blessing I didn’t know I needed.
And I’ll take every blessing I can get.
Ruben is dressed in finery that there’s no way in hell he should possess, and his hug lacks the distinct ‘slum odour’ that used to characterise our
embraces. ‘Ruben, this is Benny. He’s the —’
‘Just Benny,’ he interrupts smoothly, stepping forward and offering a hand before I can say his title. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ruben.’ As the three of us stand there, I can hardly take my eyes off my old friend. He looks every inch an aristocrat, decked out in fine tailoring with his hair coiffed to perfection, although the way he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt almost gives it away.
Though frankly, the nervousness only makes me more overjoyed to see him. It’s a far cry from the arrogance that normally fills the High Hold. ‘You know,’ Ruben says to me after a moment, ‘I’m pretty sure it’s rude to stare.’ ‘Sorry.’ I let out an awkward laugh. ‘I know, I know. It’s just … you look good. How do you look so good?’ ‘Well, that’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one.’ He grins, taking any sting out of his words. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that … your clothes, your … everything —’ ‘I don’t look like I’m from the slums anymore? Figures since I now have a place in the third,’ he says with quiet pride.
With everything that’s happened over the last day, I thought I was done with surprises. But this has me beaming in shock. ‘You’re kidding? The third ring? How?’ I’ve heard of people moving from the slums to the fifth – it’s rare, but it happens – but to move all the way to the third…? ‘Come in,’ I say, realising we’re still standing in the doorway. ‘I need to hear everything.’ As he moves forward, it’s Ruben’s turn to stare in wonder, and he gapes at the magnificent house I now live in. ‘Gods, Rosey. How the hell did you cope so well in the slums if this is where you grew up?’ It’s a good question. All these years, I’ve told myself I’m good at adapting. I had to be. The slums taught me that survival belongs to those who bend first and break last.
But the High Hold is a different beast entirely. Here, everything is polished and sharp-edged, built for people who have never had to learn how to endure.
Adapting to this place will not be about hunger or cold, but about remembering who I am when every smile around me has a dagger hidden behind it.
The danger here is not that I will fail to belong. It is that I might succeed and lose myself in the process.
Still, I give Ruben the only answer I can. ‘I’m good at adapting,’ I reply with a brittle smile.
Having Ruben here reminds me that it’s true; I’ve dealt with change before. I can do so again. ‘Come on in. Let’s sit,’ I urge, dragging him into the dining room. He may as well eat while he’s here, and it’s not like there isn’t more than enough to go around. ‘How did you get into the third?’ I ask again as I push him into a chair.
Before he can answer, I ask, ‘Are you hungry?’ I point to the ridiculous spread Summer has prepared. ‘Please, help yourself.’ ‘No, no, I’m good,’ Ruben replies. ‘You are. You are definitely good,’ Benny mutters beside me.
I elbow him, hard, then ignore Benny and face Ruben pointedly. ‘How are you here? How are you…?’ I gesture to his fine clothes as words fail me. ‘Looking so hot?’ Benny finishes for me. ‘I think that’s what she’s trying
to ask, right, Rose?’ I roll my eyes at him. ‘I think Rosey will agree I’ve always been hot,’ Ruben says, flashing Benny a quick smirk. ‘But if you’re talking about the clothes and my miraculous transformation, that’s easy to explain. I took a bet – several actually – and they paid out. Very, very well.’ ‘You bet? On what?’ The question has barely left my lips when I realise the answer, and my hand flies to my mouth. ‘Ruben. You didn’t?’ His smile widens as he offers a slight shrug. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have entered unless you could win. So I sold a few things – well, yeah, everything, actually. I also called in a few favours to get a bit more, and then I bet on you to win. And well, here we are.’ Benny is back to gaping. ‘You bet everything you had on Rose to win the Retterheld? Everything? You risked it all? On her?’ His incredulity should be insulting, but I find myself agreeing utterly with his attitude.
Ruben’s eyes meet mine as he answers, causing the hairs to rise on the
back of my neck. ‘Yeah. I did.’ ‘Fuck, that’s hot,’ Benny mutters.
I don’t even want to hit him for the remark. But he’s wrong. It’s not hot; it’s incredible. It’s humbling. It’s phenomenal.
‘I bet on her to win the first trial, and when she won, I collected my winnings and immediately bet them all on her winning the second trial. And then the third and the fourth. And then the Ofur.’ ‘Gods, Ruben.’ I find myself lost for words. Lost for air, too. ‘If you’d lost everything … if I hadn’t won …’ He shrugs again, that smile still in place. ‘Yeah, that would have been difficult. But I know you. You’d have killed every person in Morathka before you left Kay alone. When you look at it like that, it was a pretty sure thing.’ I’m surprised by the tears that clog the back of my throat. For him to have that much faith in me, to know that he risked everything, has left me truly aghast. I’m not sure anyone’s ever shown that kind of belief in me before.
The thought forms only to be instantly replaced.
Kyor did.
When I dove into the water to communicate with the kraken, Jonas thought I was insane. Thought I was going to die. I’m sure even Benny doubted I was capable of it. But Kyor believed in me.
And now that memory is bitter as hell.
Fuck him.
Kyor doesn’t deserve a place in my thoughts right now.
Instead, I focus on the handsome man before me. Ruben risked everything he had because he believed in me. I’m never going to forget that.
Not ever. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. A moment passes between us – a moment in which the rest of the world filters away. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you.’ A smile flickers on his lips only to fade almost instantly, tension rising in his frame. ‘What is it?’ I say, confused by his sudden shift. ‘Has something happened?’ He presses his lips tightly together. ‘I actually came for another reason, not just to flout my new wealth in your face.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I need a favour.’ Given how he helped me in the slums, I owe him a dozen, if not more.
Not to mention the show of faith he has just displayed in me. ‘Of course.
Anything. What do you need?’ Rather than responding, Ruben fiddles with the hem of his shirt. ‘Mum’s got worse. A lot worse. I hoped that when we moved to the third it would help, but I’m worried we got there too late.’ He hesitates. ‘I know your mum
was a healer, Rosey, and I’m guessing that since you won, you’ve got your magic back. That’s what you asked for, right? Your magic, and everything taken from you, to be returned?’ ‘Right.’ It’s with a deep throb that I realise he knows me well enough to anticipate my one wish from Etta. ‘Well, Mum’s been to see the regular healers, but they said they can’t do anything. I just hoped … since your mum was such an amazing healer … there might be something more you can do?’ The weight of his hope settles on me like a physical thing. My mother’s name is never spoken, not aloud, but it hangs between us all the same. She was certainty; I am doubt. She was knowledge earned over decades, whereas I am only just finding my feet again.
For a heartbeat, I ache with the absence of her. With everything she might have taught me, everything I might have been, if the world had not torn her and my magic away. Healing was meant to be my path once. Not crowns or trials or divine bargains, but this. Hands stained with herbs. Long nights.
Lives made better in small, quiet ways. ‘I’ll try,’ I say honestly. The words feel pitiful, measured against what my mother was and what I was meant to become. Everything I fear I’m not. ‘Of course I’ll try,’ I continue, ‘but I’ve only just regained my magic. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do anything more than the experienced healers have already done.’ Less, in truth. But I’ll try. For him. ‘That you have your magic at all is a miracle,’ Ruben says softly. ‘I’m just hoping for one more.’ My mind races as I think of how I might help Noleen. Had my powers not been taken from me, I would have likely gone down the same route as my mother, combining my magic with spell work to make remedies as a healer.
But the chance to hone such skills was snatched from me, along with my magic. Still, I have her old notebooks and her orangery. Even if the plants aren’t in the best of shape, I’m sure I can remedy that. ‘I should probably have a look through some notebooks,’ I tell him. ‘See what I can find. Then we can collect some herbs from the orangery and head off in a bit?’ With a slight shift in his seat, Ruben looks apologetically at me. ‘Any chance we can grab those herbs first and read through the notebooks in the carriage on the way to the third?’ My stomach sinks. Things are truly dire then. Time is of the essence, and
I get the impression that he already believes he’s been away from her too long. Which means she really has gone downhill since I last saw her. ‘Sure thing. We can do that,’ I tell him, standing. ‘Thank you. Truly, thank you,’ Ruben says with such gratitude that I feel like maybe, just maybe, some real good could come out of me winning the Retterheld after all.
THE HOUSES IN THE COURTIERS’ arc are all fairly similar: ostentatiously large, with plenty of room for entertaining or holding covert conversations. But there’s one thing that makes our home entirely unique.
The orangery was a wedding gift from my father to my mother, who, prior to their marriage, was still living in the temple of Etta with Dinah. She had visited the house plenty of times, both when they were courting and when they were betrothed, but my father said he could always tell there was part of her that was relieved to return to the temple, not because she didn’t want to be with him, but because of the lack of plants.
The Goddess’s Garden is the largest garden in the entirety of Wrohelm, and walking among the temple’s vegetation was always where my mother was most at ease. According to my father, she got the type of grin from looking at herbs and plants that other ladies of the court got from looking at jewellery.
Which is why he arranged to have the orangery built within our home.
So many memories of my mother are sealed in that room. The way she would sometimes sing to herself as she tended the plants when she thought no one was watching. Or more often, talk to them with such tenderness and familiarity that it was like she was talking to old friends.
Right from the beginning, she taught me the differences between similar- looking plants. Such lessons were essential because one specimen could cure an ailment while the other could cause anything from a mildly upset stomach to an illness that would leave you bedridden for weeks. ‘Never assume, Rosey,’ she would say. ‘You test the fruit and the seeds, both sides of the leaves and the stems. And don’t forget the scent. Learn the scents of the leaves and berries, not just the pollen and petals. Mishaps happen, and things get moved around even here. And never allow part of the
plant near your lips until you’ve checked all those things. You understand?’ She would say such things before showing me two near-identical specimens and asking me to name what was what and explain their uses, as well as if or how magic could be used to make them more potent.
Of course she never seemed to do any of those tests unless she was teaching me. Instead, she would just glance at a plant and be able to tell you every detail about it, from the uses of its roots to the aroma of its sap. Back then, I thought it was something she’d learned through practice and trial. But as I step into the orangery, I’m no longer so sure that her knowledge was entirely learned. No, I begin to suspect it was, at least in part, gifted.
As I enter the window-lined room, with slate floors beneath my feet and ceilings high enough for small trees to flourish, relief rushes through me. As with the plants in the kitchen, mum’s water irrigation system has kept working all this time. The plants are wild, cluttered and with weeds everywhere, but they are alive.
I look around the dense jungle and draw on what I remember of Noleen from before I left the slums. The rattle of her cough. The pallid sweat on her brow. What could help with that?
The question barely enters my head when something catches my eye. ‘Can you see that?’ I ask Ruben as I move deeper into the space.
He hurries from where he was standing by the door, looking around. ‘What?’ ‘That plant there.’ I point to a flowerless, flat-leaved shrub that appears to be glowing ever so faintly. ‘How does it look to you?’ ‘Er … green?’ he says, trying to be helpful. ‘That’s it?’ I press. It’s definitely glowing, and its luminescence seems to be increasing in vibrancy. He might not have Benny’s special eyesight, but it’s definitely something he should be able to pick up on. ‘What about the one next to it?’ ‘Also green, but a bit bushy?’ His voice is hopeful, like he’s praying he’s said the right thing. But his description has me certain that I’m seeing something he’s not.
My magic is somehow illuminating the plants I need.
As I walk through an archway of dark berries, my nostrils fill with the scent of elderberry. I waste no time digging the dirt away from the roots before collecting more of the beckoning foliage. By the time I’ve collected all the plants that were glowing at me, I have a basket with over half a dozen
specimens, only two of which I knew the names of before I walked in.
I pause at the threshold of the orangery, basket heavy in my hands, reluctant to cross it. This room has always been a place of beginnings. First lessons. First failures. First quiet triumphs.
I wonder which this moment will be. My first attempt at healing – will it be a triumph or a failure?
Walking out of the orangery feels like stepping away from my mother’s support all over again. I can feel her here, like her spirit is walking beside me.
And I fear that if I leave this place, that moment of connection will be gone.
But the plants shift in my wake, as if urging me onward, and I know that Mother would have done the same. I should try to heal, even if I fail.
I draw in a steady breath and leave the orangery, knowing I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.
I hastily collect knives, a pestle and mortar, and a couple of my mother’s notebooks that I still have from my time in the slums, although Ruben assures me there’s no need for me to bring my little stove.
With that, there’s only one thing left to do. And it hurts just as much as I knew it would. ‘So I guess you’re going to be gone by the time I get back,’ I say to Benny. ‘Which makes this goodbye?’ My chest aches at the thought. ‘I was thinking,’ Benny replies with a casual shrug, ‘maybe I could hang around for a couple of extra days. Keep an eye on you. There are some people I want to visit in the fourth, anyway. Some things I need to straighten out.’ ‘The fourth?’ I frown. ‘What does the future Duke of the Eastern Isles have to do with people in the fourth?’ ‘Wait, you’re a future duke?’ Ruben stops in his tracks.
Benny’s jaw tightens slightly as he shoots me a glare for my slip, and then he turns back to Ruben, smirk back in place. ‘I’m just a friend of Rose’s,’ he says. ‘But I’ll get out of your hair and let you get going.’ ‘Wait,’ I entreat Benny. ‘Stay here. With me. Won’t you? Better here than
one of those stuffy, fancy inns.’ ‘You sure?’ ‘Definitely. Ask Summer to make up a room for you. If we only get a few more days before you go, I’d like to see you as much as possible while I can.’ Benny smiles. ‘Yeah, me too. Okay, sure. I’ll get my belongings moved here. Thanks for having me, Kultavaris.’
‘Sorry to put pressure on you, but we should get going,’ Ruben says anxiously. ‘I’ve already left Mum too long. She’s not great on her own. I really have to get back.’ ‘Of course,’ I reply, offering Benny a swift hug before parting. ‘Happy to give you one too,’ Benny offers Ruben, opening his arms wide at my friend, who shakes his head and lets out a slight laugh. ‘Nice to meet you, Benny,’ he says instead, waving a hand in farewell as he walks away. ‘Oh, we should definitely meet again soon,’ Benny mutters audibly as we leave. ‘Is he always such a terrible flirt?’ Ruben questions as we walk outside.
I think about it and shake my head. ‘No, not really. You should definitely take it as a compliment.’ He gives me a crooked smile. ‘Maybe I will.’ He laughs lightly.
Ruben is the type of man who turns heads wherever he goes, even more so now that he’s dressed in finery. Putting this talent to good use, he has no difficulty in hailing a carriage, even in the pouring rain, and we hastily climb in with all of my baskets of plants and notebooks.
I ignore the drumming of the rain on the wooden roof. It most certainly does not make me think of Kyor. ‘So whereabouts is your new house?’ I ask as we move, rocking with the cadence of the carriage. ‘Other than in the third ring?’ ‘Not far from the temple,’ he tells me. ‘Given that it was Etta’s trials, and her favour for you, that gave us this opportunity, I wanted to stay close to her.
To show my gratitude. To remember who I owe.’ Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. His is not reverence borne of fear or ambition, but a simple, honest acknowledgement that luck does not arrive without cause. ‘I’m certain she appreciates it,’ I say, and I mean more than just the Goddess. The thought of Ruben choosing proximity to faith over indulgence warms me in a way the carriage never could. It is a reminder of exactly what sort of man he is. A good one. The rarest kind.
He smiles. ‘I can only hope.’ Talking of hope, there’s something I need to address. ‘Ruben, I need you to know that I might not be able to do anything more than the healers have already attempted. Even my mother, with all her knowledge and years as a healer … well, she couldn’t fix every ailment.’
After all, that was why the queen died. ‘I know,’ he replies, the smile dropping from his lips. ‘I do know, Rosey.
It’s just a hope and a prayer, really. I mean, your tonics used to work so well, even when you didn’t have magic on your side. I guess I was thinking that now you’ll be able to do even more. If not, then I’m sure she’ll be pleased just to see you. Like I am.’ We travel in comfortable silence for a time before he breaks it. ‘So you defeated a kraken, killed a jötunn, and conquered an ice maze, right? Did I leave anything out?’ ‘Well, there were the dire wolves and the Issen spirits that tried to make us kill ourselves.’ ‘Seriously?’ He gawks at me in disbelief. ‘Yes, and believe me, the trials were nothing compared to the other Rettlings.’ ‘Now this sounds like a story I need to hear.’ I use the rest of the journey to fill him in on it all, starting with how I used his fire bead within the first few minutes of arriving at the barracks to stop Zara from killing me. ‘Well, you never were great at making friends,’ he jokes.
His laugh is good-humoured but strikes somewhere deep behind my ribs.
Despite all the chaos and drama, I had made friends during the Retterheld.
One particularly close one. Llinos. She and I shared one of the most genuine and easy friendships I can remember ever having, and now she’s dead.
Because of me.
I think of Caroline and wonder how she is doing. Had Llinos survived the Retterheld, I would have no doubt that Caz would have left her position as scribe to ensure they wouldn’t ever be parted again. But now it’s hard to know if she’ll stay in Wrohelm when Benny goes, or if she’ll leave with him to return home.
The guards don’t bother checking us as we head outwards. They only care if you’re going somewhere above your station, where there’s a chance you might steal something or attack the palace. Like the rebels had.
I think again of Ruben’s friend Peter, with his smoke tattoo, and his eyes, wide and unseeing as he lay dead on the ballroom floor. But I don’t ask Ruben about it. Now isn’t the time to pry when he is so clearly anxious about Noleen.
Only a minute later we slow again, and Ruben pulls out a slip of paper
from his pocket. As he unfolds it, a slight smirk rises on my lips.
I look at the squiggles drawn on the page. ‘Did you draw a map to your own home?’ ‘Hey, I’ve only been here a few days. I bought the place with some of the winnings after the third trial, but it took a while to get moved in. And these streets all look the same.’ As we disembark, I continue to chuckle as Ruben studies the scrap of paper for a moment longer, shielding it from the elements against his coat before he points down a narrow street. ‘This way,’ he tells me confidently.
All around us, people are bustling about their days, even with the constant rain falling. Magic mingles with the scents of roasted meats and fires in the air, and a few people glance in my direction, but these are not the same judgemental stares I felt in the High Hold. There’s a curiosity in their gazes, a quiet respect.
Maybe this is a place I could move to. Get that ‘fresh start’ I keep dreaming about. The one I’m starting to doubt even exists.
Yet the thought of leaving my home again causes an unexpected twist in my stomach. There are too many memories waiting for me there, and for so long I have stifled them. Too many cobwebs, both figurative and literal, to dust away.
So maybe I’m not as done with the High Hold as I wish I could be. ‘Mum’s not been talking much sense recently,’ Ruben warns as he starts to slow his steps. ‘Don’t take it personally if she says something off-hand.’ ‘I won’t,’ I assure him.
The sight of Ruben’s front door has me wondering exactly how much money he bet on me. And how much he won. And how he managed to secure a place like this so quickly in a city that does not make room for slum-born men without reason.
This is no cramped apartment tucked away in the lower rings. It is a proper house, solid stone with a wide frontage, the kind that speaks of coin and connections in equal measure. I suspect it is heated, too, a luxury I still find myself measuring out carefully.
The suspicion is confirmed the moment he pushes the door open and a wall of hot air rolls over us, carrying with it the scents of burning wood and something spiced and familiar. Warmth seeps into my bones. ‘Mum, I’m back. And I brought someone to see you.’ He looks at me like
the sun rises in my eyes, and I shift uncomfortably. ‘Someone special.’
