Chapter 12
he room is unnervingly still once Jonas is gone, and I rest for a moment on the too-soft bed. I’m so used to the constant noises of theT slums: the hustle and bustle, the cries of children continuing well into the night, the drunken bellows of those lucky enough to afford drink to lose themselves in, and the quiet murmurs of prayers from those who are desperate to believe that this will not be their fate.
Here, there’s nothing, and I miss the reassurance of Kay’s steady presence beside me, even if she does snore. I can hear muted footsteps below me, Rettlings talking softly and moving around. But there are no screams or cries. With nothing to break the quiet, it reminds me of a mausoleum. The thought isn’t a reassuring one.
I heave myself off the bed and turn to my bags. With Jonas having emptied the wardrobe, there’s more than enough room for me to place my own belongings inside, and given the quality of the robes Dinah gifted me, it only seems right to hang them up. As my fingers run over the silks and furs, I think again of Kay. Has Artur fetched her yet?
If not Artur, then Ruben will surely have her, I reassure myself, trying to push the anxiety down.
Once the clothes are hanging, I need to work out what to do with the satchel and the rest of the items. There’s a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, but there’s no key for the lock. What I need is somewhere secure.
Somewhere hidden.
I turn on the spot, taking in the brick walls and wooden floorboards.
Everyone has things they want to hide, and I suspect the guard who usually bunks here isn’t any different. I start to tap my foot along the floor, hoping
to hear the hollow sound of a hidden compartment, even moving the bed to check beneath it. When I’ve no luck with the floor, I move on to the wall, tapping the bricks and dragging the only chair around with me so I can try the highest corners. I feel myself growing more and more despondent with each fruitless knock, and I’m just about to give up when I remember the bathroom.
As though led by a guiding hand, I move straight to the sink and tap the tiles below it. My ears are met with a crisp echo, and a minute later I’ve prized off the white tile and found a decently sized gap behind it. It’s not quite big enough for the entire satchel, but it’s large enough to slide in several bags of the rarer seeds Dinah gave me, not to mention the two smaller daggers I found while going through the rest of the bag. For the copper-hilted one, I take one of the straps from the bag, wrap it around my thigh, and sheath the dagger into place. I’m sure the other Rettlings will have properly crafted holsters for their weapons, but this works perfectly well, and the incident with Zara has taught me not to go anywhere unprotected.
With my limited belongings away and secure, I drop onto the bed, only for my stomach to growl. Loudly. Korvane’s balls never used to begin until the sun had set, and I don’t expect this one will be any different, which means it will likely be hours and hours until I get to eat unless I go find something for myself. Though before I leave, there’s one other thing I want to do … I head into the bathroom, strip off, and start the shower. The steam billows off the water and I step beneath the spray with a happy sigh, which quickly dissipates as the hot water hits the burned skin on my thigh. I wince but persevere.
After, as I dress in a pair of clean trousers and a plain brown top – standard colour choices for the slums as they hide the dirt – I note just how gaunt my face is and how pale my complexion. The sooner I put some more weight on, the better. And hopefully, that’s going to start now.
Grateful that I don’t have to go back past all the other doors, I take my rickety metal staircase down to where it meets the sturdier stone steps beneath it and continue descending.
The staircase opens at the far end of the hall I saw earlier, which is still empty of both staff and Rettlings. I assume the kitchen workers have been summoned to the king’s quarters to prepare for tonight’s feast and that I’ll
be able to sneak in and grab something to eat without being seen, but as I take the first steps towards the kitchen, a sound stops me.
There are people talking. Or, more specifically, laughing.
My heart drums a fraction faster as I listen in, trying to recognise the voices – not that it’s likely I will, unless it’s Jonas’s, of course – but I quickly realise that isn’t the case.
My stomach growls again, and I reach down and feel the dagger on my thigh. I was a damn good fighter fourteen years ago – for a nine-year-old – but one blade and rusty skills aren’t going to cut it against the full magic and strength of several well-trained Rettlings. Deciding it’s probably best to avoid any kind of confrontation for now, I turn on my heel. After all, it’ll hardly be the first time I’ve gone hungry.
A rich male voice rises from behind me, stopping me again. From his accent, I’m fairly sure he hails from the Eastern Isles. ‘You don’t need to go. We’re not a threat. I promise.’ ‘And there are pastries,’ a woman adds, her accent also from the Eastern Isles. ‘Good pastries.’ I remain where I am, still undecided about what I’m going to do. Zara made it very clear that I shouldn’t go into this thinking I can trust people, but Jonas’s comment about alliances is still fixed in my mind. He implied he was willing to work with me, but implied doesn’t mean agreed. And even if we do work together, it’s still just the two of us. As impressive as his power is, it’s not going to inflict damage the way a flame-wielder could.
Which is why, despite the hammering in my chest, I turn back and take the last few steps towards the kitchen, where a group of five – four men and one woman – are sitting around a table. Just like they said, there is a platter of pastries between them, and my eyes feel as though they’re bugging from my head at the sight of the glazed delicacies. The sugar is so thick it’s practically sparkling, and I’m not even sure what all the fruits on top are.
They don’t make things like this in the slums. ‘Come and join us,’ the woman says as she pushes the platter towards me. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t find any fans of Zara and the Rowell crew in here.’ ‘She killed one of us yesterday.’ The one who speaks looks like the youngest. I know he has to be at least eighteen to even be here, but he looks younger than Kay. His sandy-blond hair is tousled, his olive cheeks pale,
and his eyes torn with grief. ‘Suan. Zara decided she was another runt.’ His voice is bitter, and I don’t blame him.
An enemy of my enemy though … I approach the group with a little less trepidation. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I take a seat at the end of the bench, a short way away from the only female of the group. ‘May Mortidem hold her gifts with grace.’ ‘Thank you. We appreciate that.’ The one who speaks this time isn’t the biggest; that position is held by the boulder of a man at the end of the table who hasn’t so much as glanced at me as he’s too busy shovelling food into his mouth, but he has an air of distinction about him. His skin is dark, his curly black hair cropped close to his head, and he sits with an impressively straight posture as he stretches out a hand to me. ‘Benny.’ ‘Rose,’ I respond, taking his hand briefly. ‘Llinos.’ The brunette woman introduces herself next, pronouncing the first sound of her name with a liquid noise somewhere between a ‘c’ and an ‘l.’ ‘Sorry, did you say Clinos?’ Better to ask now than still be pronouncing it wrong in a week’s time. ‘Llinos,’ she repeats with that same c-l combination. ‘Don’t worry.
You’ll get the hang of it.’ She winks at me, freckles scattering across olive skin as her hazel eyes gleam with mischief. ‘Coulter,’ the youngest one names himself.
The fourth man at the table is much older than the others, with grey hair and skin a remarkably similar colour, but as he merely nods at me and mumbles inaudibly, I’m none the wiser as to his name. As for the boulder man, who looks a good decade older than the rest of them, he doesn’t even bother acknowledging me. A friendly sort, then. ‘It was definitely an unwelcome start to this thing,’ Llinos says, presumably talking about what happened with Suan. ‘I was hoping I could get through this entire Retterheld without having to kill anybody. But I guess that was wishful thinking.’ ‘There was one Retterheld five hundred years ago, where everyone made it through to the start of the Ofur – the final challenge. They all just worked together.’ ‘I heard about that one too,’ I add. ‘I was kind of hoping it would be like that this time, but that was wishful thinking. If I didn’t have a target on my back before, I definitely have one now.’
‘It’s safe to say you made quite an impression.’ Benny’s response isn’t exactly comforting, though his smile is soft and genuine. ‘Nice trick, by the way. What was that you threw to start the fire? Looked like some kind of glass orb. Magic-infused, I take it?’ His question is casual, but a ripple of fear fills me. I was hoping to fool the others into thinking I had at least some magic for at least the first trial. ‘Who said I threw anything?’ I try to appear relaxed despite the prickling down the back of my neck. ‘Benny’s gift is sight-related,’ Llinos explains. ‘He can slow down what he sees and take in all the details. You won’t get anything past him. Super annoying when we played hide-and-seek as kids.’ ‘Wow, I’ve never heard of anything like that before.’ ‘It’s not exactly common.’ Benny shrugs. ‘Has more advantages than you’d imagine. Though it’s not as visually impressive as some. Right, Jai?’ Jai, I discover, is the name of the mountain of a man at the end of the table. ‘Go on, show her,’ Benny cajoles. ‘Just keep it under control. Maybe use the hearth.’ Jai’s face is twisted in a scowl, and he looks like he wants to throw Benny across the kitchen rather than do what he says, but a moment later, he lets out a slight grunt and the bricks around the fireplace begin to glow – softly at first, and then brighter and brighter until I can feel the heat radiating from them. In moments, the heat is almost as strong as that from the fire bead. ‘Isn’t he amazing?’ Coulter says in wonder. ‘Okay, buddy, that’ll do.’ Benny taps Jai on the arm, and with another grunt, the man stops, and the bricks cease to glow, though the ripples of heat remain. ‘Loch, here, is our bat ears,’ Benny continues with a nod to the man whose name I missed earlier. ‘Which is how we knew you were out there on the stairs. And Coulter can do pretty much the same as Jai, but he heats liquids, not solids.’ As I try to memorise the powers and names and link them to the faces, one overwhelming thought takes hold. ‘You’re not nervous telling me your powers?’ Benny shakes his head. ‘We’re chill. And I saw how you were with Zara. You didn’t want to fight her; you wanted her to back the fuck off. I
respect that. Besides, you already saw what Llin can do.’ I’m utterly confused. ‘I did?’ ‘The wind,’ Llinos explains. ‘The one that blew the fire out. That was me. Sorry,’ she adds apologetically. ‘I would’ve let the bitch burn.’ They’re the first words Jai’s grunted since I got there, and I’m one hundred percent sure he meant them. Despite the positive vibes I’ve got from Benny, Coulter, and Llinos, I can’t say the same about Jai. ‘We know you would have,’ Benny says flatly, ‘but we didn’t want the fire to spread. As much as we all want Zara dead for what she did to Suan, there were a lot of people in that corridor who didn’t deserve to be flame- grilled. Our plan was never to kill people. Our plan is to work together, get as many of us to the Ofur as possible, and hope that Etta deems one of us worthy to give us the gift. Remember?’ With his easy tone and smile, Benny exudes quiet confidence and charisma. ‘You’re all from the same city?’ I ask, partly to turn the conversation away from Zara, and partly because I may as well use the opportunity to learn as much about them as I can, particularly while Benny’s in such a sharing mood. ‘Sort of. Llin and I are both from Brandish. The others are from different islands. Different cities.’ Different cities? I assumed there was only one city in the Eastern Isles because people only ever spoke of Brandish. ‘So what’s your power?’ Coulter asks me bluntly. ‘Because, you know … throwing things won’t get you far.’ ‘My power?’ I repeat dumbly, fingering my hair, heat rising to my cheeks as embarrassment claws at me. Gods, they invited me to sit with them, but they don’t know I’m the stripped slum rat. Maybe they assumed I had Issen blood. Either way, there goes my chances at allying myself with them. ‘Yeah. I mean, I thought that was what we were doing, right?’ Coulter says pointedly. ‘Sharing things.’ ‘Yes,’ I agree, swallowing hard. I lean forward and pick up a pastry. I may as well get that before they chuck me out. With a firm grip on the sticky treat, I admit, ‘But I don’t have anything to share.’ Confusion clouds all their faces.
‘What do you mean?’ It’s the first thing Loch has said, and his voice is unfeasibly quiet. Then again, I guess if you can hear footsteps from however far away, you’re not a great fan of shouting.
I’m not sure how I should respond. Telling them I’m completely powerless seems foolish, but given Zara didn’t hold back from calling me stripped before I set her alight, I’m not going to be able to keep the truth hidden for long. ‘I’m Rose Kultavaris,’ I say after a pause .
I figured that would be all I needed to say. That they would gasp and exchange pointed looks before hastily retreating from my presence. But though Benny and Llinos exchange a quick glance, the others look at me with complete confusion. ‘You’re gonna have to give us more than that,’ Coulter says.
Huh. ‘You honestly don’t know?’ ‘Yeah, we’re just really good at playing thick,’ Jai replies sarcastically. ‘No, Rose Kultavaris, we have no idea who you are. That name should mean something to us, I gather?’ I take a deep breath. ‘My mother was Reeva Kultavaris. She was the one who helped birth the queen’s second child.’ And just like that, I see realisation colour the rest of their faces. Tension wraps itself around me as my throat tightens. I try but fail to swallow the sensation down. Now that they know who I am, they’re probably pissed Zara didn’t get rid of me when she had the chance.
Llinos’s eyes lock on mine, and my fingers twitch for the dagger at my side, but they’re full of the sticky treat instead. Way to go, Rose. You’re going to die because you had a pastry in your hands instead of a weapon. ‘I am so sorry,’ she murmurs. ‘I was twelve when it happened. I remember the upset through the islands. The grief. It was…’ She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to. ‘The queen was an incredible person,’ I say stiffly. ‘Yes. But that isn’t the only reason we grieved. People die every day in childbirth. Sometimes healers just can’t get there in time. And sometimes the healers aren’t enough. It’s a cruel reality and I don’t know anybody who hasn’t been touched by it at some point. But to punish the person who was there to help … that should never have happened. I’m sorry for your mother. And your baby brother … I can’t imagine how horrific that must have been.’
I sit dumbfounded and breathless.
People I considered my friends, and people my parents considered their friends, left us the moment the king made his ruling. Yet here are strangers who don’t blame my mother. Who don’t agree with Korvane’s ruling and are bold enough to say so.
While I’m still gaping, Benny speaks up. ‘Is it true that the prince was the one who said your mother was responsible?’ My jaw clenches and my nostrils flare in anger. The words, when they come, are said through gritted teeth. ‘He lied. The queen told my mother to save the baby at all costs. And she tried, but … ’ ‘You don’t need to talk about it.’ Llinos’s hand reaches across the table.
Benny lets out a low whistle. ‘With the prince in the trials, this is going to be one hell of an awkward reunion. Maybe you should’ve let Zara get to you after all.’ His lips quirk upwards as his eyes glint with mischief, telling me he’s only joking. I’m grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood and for Llinos’s understanding. It was exactly what I needed.
I never realised quite how much.
