Chapter 19
he carriage door clicks closed, and a moment later, we jolt forward.
There are no windows and no way to see out, save for a thin crackT around the door that lets a sliver of light through and an open skylight.
I fix my eyes on the sky above, watching it turn from blue to grey. ‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how much blood you give at the blood vow,’ Jonas says as the horses’ footsteps clatter on the paving stones. ‘It’s just to seal your participation in the trials.’ ‘Yeah, we were talking about it before you turned up,’ Llinos tells him. ‘Right, of course, but Rose,’ he continues directly to me, ‘if the cut is on your hand and you get to choose which hand to bleed, it’s probably best if you use the one that’s already injured rather than opening up a new wound.’ ‘Yeah, I figured,’ I say.
I push the exasperation down. It’s sweet that he’s worried about me, but I’m not stupid. ‘Also, several years ago, one of the trials took place in the Sunken Temple,’ Jonas continues. ‘So it’s worthwhile researching the space while we’re there for the vow.’ ‘Which, of course, you already have. I bet you’ve been there dozens of times,’ Jai mutters. ‘No one is allowed into the Sunken Temple,’ Jonas snaps back. ‘Only the priestesses. So no, I haven’t. ’ ‘I bet you’ve studied maps and shit.’ Jai folds his arms. ‘He’s trying to be helpful,’ Benny says sharply. ‘Well, if he could do it without sounding quite so condescending—’
‘Guys,’ Llinos cuts in. ‘I get that the impending inauguration is making us all nervous, but this is nothing. It’s not even a trial. And there’s no way this is scarier than last night. I mean, at least we’re in comfy clothes, right?’ Her attempt at levity fails, and tension rolls through the carriage. And we’ve still got one heck of a journey ahead of us. I’ve heard that several of Etta’s priestesses have powers of portation and can move between locations in an instant, but you’d have to have an insane amount of strength to move all the Rettlings. ‘You show fealty to Etta, too,’ I say, noting the spiral marks on Llinos’s face, although the two lines – one wavy, one straight – above her brow mark her main God as Niairah, the Goddess of Air and Fire. Fitting, considering her gift as a wind-wielder. I wonder who Kyor’s Gods are, though I’d bet a pint of blood the Goddess Yordenrin is there. That man has chaos written all over him. ‘My aunt is a priestess of Etta’s,’ Llinos tells me. ‘So we’ve strong family ties to the Goddess.’ ‘My mother was raised by a priestess when she was abandoned in the slums,’ I reply, surprisingly grateful we have yet more to bond over. It’s been a long time since I’ve found myself wanting to form friendships, and given that we’re in direct competition, forming one with Llinos probably isn’t the wisest thing to do, but I don’t think I could end our burgeoning friendship even if I should. I need it too much, and I think she does too. ‘Sorry, not to be rude, but if your mother was abandoned in the slums, how were you a noble?’ Benny joins in the conversation. ‘My father,’ I explain. ‘He was a noble.’ ‘Barely.’ The word is muttered under her breath, but it’s loud enough to ensure all eyes fall on Estel. I’m really starting to regret my decision to invite her to join us. She clearly has a very large rod up her arse.
Everyone’s questioning gazes return to me, and I’m not sure why I’m hesitant to tell them my father’s story. After all, the fact that they stayed beside me after learning of my connection to the queen’s death tells me these are good people. Still, I suppose it has to come out at some point. ‘He was a bastard,’ I say, ‘born to a woman in the third ring. My grandfather’s actual wife couldn’t have any children, but when my father was nine years old, they could already see how much power he had, and so my grandparents took him in and raised him as their own. There are some in
the High Hold who held that against him …’ I shoot a glare at Estel, though she doesn’t look like she gives a shit. ‘And then he went and married for “love,” which was a surefire way of weakening family lines and screwing with centuries of alliances in the High Hold. Real romantic,’ she scoffs. ‘Not that I suspect a bastard had many allies.’ I grit my teeth and force myself not to reply.
An uncomfortable silence descends, and I catch Benny’s eye. He sends Estel a side-eye accompanied by a jerk of his head that tells me he’d be more than happy to push her out of the carriage if I wanted. With my lips pressed tightly together, I manage to suppress a chuckle, but my spirits lift.
Estel may think less of me for my roots, but Benny doesn’t give a shit. ‘So,’ Llinos says, breaking the silence, ‘how about this weather we’re having?’ I’m beginning to really love these islanders.
The longer we’re moving, the more varied the sounds and smells that drift in from outside become, and eventually I recognise the familiar stench of the slum. I’m not the only one who smells it. ‘Gods, how can anyone live in this stench?’ Jonas says in revulsion, only to immediately realise his mistake. ‘Rose, I’m so … I didn’t think.
I’m —’ ‘It’s fine,’ I say, wishing he wasn’t sitting straight across from me so I could avoid looking at him. I shrug lightly. ‘You get used to it.’ With people now steering clear of the topic of families and previous living situations, conversation moves to the trials. We list all the ones we can remember, including the delightful time the Rettlings were forced to free themselves from underwater chambers before the air ran out, and another trial where they had to catch and hogtie an unbonded dire wolf.
Apparently, a record number died that year. Through it all, my gaze constantly flickers upwards to the sky, almost as though I’m expecting another raven to appear. Thankfully, there’s no sign of any. That’s a good thing, right?
Thick clouds are all that’s visible through the skylight when suddenly we are plunged into utter darkness. ‘Well, we’re definitely underground,’ Benny says after the unrelenting darkness has continued for a few minutes.
We must be nearly there .
The Sunken Temple is a place whispered about with reverence, even in the slums. It’s shaped like an inverted cone, going hundreds of feet underground, and was carved by the Gods or giants – or so the story goes.
Down its sloping marble walls winds a procession of stone steps, descending into shadow, upon which spectators may sit to watch events in the arena. As a holy place, the Sunken Temple is rarely open to the public, but access is granted during the Retterheld. Being here is a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity, and I’d be lying if I said excitement wasn’t fizzing in my veins.
From across the carriage, a hand reaches out in the dark and touches my
knee.
‘You okay?’ Jonas’s voice echoes. ‘I’m good,’ I murmur quietly. ‘Is it me, or have we been going down for ages?’ Coulter asks plaintively. ‘Is this right?’ ‘Of course it’s right,’ Jai grunts back. ‘Not long now,’ Loch tells us. ‘The front carriages have already stopped.’ Yup, there’s no denying it; his power may not look as cool as wielding flames, but it’s awesome.
When we finally come to a stop, the carriage doors spring open and a scattering of torchlight breaks the unrelenting darkness. We start to file out, but as I move to stand, Jonas reaches forward and places his hand on my arm. ‘Can you give us a minute?’ he asks, looking at Benny and Llin.
Benny doesn’t reply until he looks at me and I give him a nod to say I’m fine, after which the others squeeze past, and I sit alone with Jonas. ‘I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About the slums,’ he clarifies. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’ ‘I do. It was a flippant remark, and I didn’t think about its consequences. And for what it’s worth, I’m also sorry about what Estel said.
About your father.’ Again, I didn’t need the clarification. ‘I’m sure she’s not the only one who’s thought it,’ I reply shortly. ‘Then they’re fools,’ he says, laying both his hands on my knees as he looks directly into my eyes. ‘Your father was phenomenally powerful. More
powerful than almost every other noble in the High Hold. If they did have a problem with him, it’s because they were jealous. I mean that, truly.’ ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ I take his hands and squeeze them as I lift them pointedly off my knees. ‘Come on. We should get going. We’ve got places to be.’ I step out of the carriage into a long, narrow tunnel, with torchlights offering the only illumination. The sound of the Rettlings’ footsteps bounces off the walls, making it sound as if there are hundreds of us rather than a mere fifty.
A short way ahead, Llinos is waiting for me. ‘So did you two kiss and make up? There obviously wasn’t time for any more.’ ‘Sorry to disappoint, but there was no kissing.’ ‘That is disappointing. Nothing like a bit of gossip to distract from a spot of impending doom.’ ‘You’ll have to find another source, I’m afraid,’ I say drily, smiling despite myself. The tunnel we’re moving through continues to slope down, growing narrower and narrower, and soon it’s barely wide enough for us to stand side by side, at which point it turns into a series of steps. Another precarious staircase, and this one in near darkness. Great.
Finally, the steps end at a massive underground cave. Almost three- quarters of the ground is covered by a lake of pale sapphire blue, so still it acts like a mirror, reflecting the stalactites that hang from what must be a hundred feet above. I’m gawping at the sight, I know I am, but I don’t care.
Korvane’s ostentatious chandeliers have nothing on this raw, natural beauty. ‘Rettlings, welcome to the Sunken Temple. Now, it is time for a few guidelines to make sure things run smoothly.’ The voice is filled with the tone of command, but annoyingly, I can’t see the speaker because the Rettlings who got here first have crammed themselves so tightly around the person that there’s barely any room to move. As I search out a better view, I notice an outcrop not too high up on the edge of the wall. The stone is rough, with deep divots that will be perfect for climbing. ‘Where are you going?’ Llinos whispers as I squeeze past her. ‘To get a better view,’ I say, pointing to the wall.
She turns back towards the speaker, who is now praising Etta and the other Gods. I’m only half listening, focused instead on choosing the quickest path to take up to the outcrop and ignoring the stinging in my left
hand as I hoist myself up. The instant I take a seat on the ledge, I know I’ve made a good decision. I’ve got a much better view up here, and not just of the speaker, but of the Rettlings, too. The knighted guards are still clustered together and easily identifiable by the manner in which they stand. Still, attentive, and confident, it shows their respect for the occasion. Respect not everyone else is displaying.
An older woman is running back and forth to the water’s edge, while a younger one tries to stop her with constant hushing noises, which only serve to elicit more attention. As I watch, I recall what Estel said about the crazy woman from Dorain she was sharing a room with. I suspect I’ve figured out who she was talking about.
By the looks of things, there are several more Rettlings from Dorain with the two women, many rolling their eyes at the older woman’s antics, though not as many as the group from Galreck, whose pale faces are all marked with the four vertical lines to represent their city’s famous towers.
Zara is still with her goons, Oke and Elenor, and they’re joined by Shim and a couple of others. As I take in the Rettlings, I realise I should be listening. Getting distracted during the trials could be deadly. I need to focus.
I look to the speaker and immediately recognise him as the man who tried to help Kyor sober up at the ball.
He looks around sixty, with a grey beard and bald head, yet his frame is still ripped with muscle, and he carries himself with the same sort of gravitas as the knights. I’d bet my supply of seeds from Dinah that he’s got a dire wolf somewhere. I allow myself a quick scan to see if it’s present, and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed when I don’t spot it. I do spot someone else, though. Kyor.
He’s leaning against one of the cavern’s jagged walls, staring blankly at the speaker. Hungover, probably. He wears a fur stole across his shoulders and leather fighting trousers, and that’s it. The man must not feel the cold.
Either that, or his plan is to distract everyone with his physique, which I hate to admit is an annoyingly effective technique. As he stands there, I try to make out the marks of his fealty Gods. I’m sure it’s Yordenrin’s starburst below his Wrohelm insignia, but I can’t decipher the one above his brow bone. What I do know is that the blue dye suits him. The colour glistens against his olive skin, while the crispness of the lines makes his cheekbones look even sharper.
The thought barely forms before he turns and catches my eye. I shift my gaze as fast as I can, but I know I wasn’t quick enough. I die a little inside, knowing he saw me ogling him. ‘The priestesses alone know what the trials will encompass,’ the speaker is saying, ‘so while Commander Holden and I will be responsible for your training, we do not know what dangers you will face. ’ Holden. The name rings a bell, but I can’t immediately place it. ‘Thank you, Commander.’ The man who must be Holden steps forward to stand beside the speaker. A short man, Holden looks to be of a similar age to what my parents would be if they were still alive. ‘Over the course of the Retterheld, we will become better acquainted. Either Zelle or I will be in the yard from dusk till dawn each day, and I would recommend that any of you who want to succeed do the same. Although it must be said that training alone will not be enough to help you survive.’ So the first speaker was Commander Zelle. He’s rumoured to be good friends with Prince Kyor, which immediately makes me distrust his judgement. ‘After the vows, you will be transported back to the palace.’ Zelle takes over again. ‘And I would urge you to remember that while each of you here has been blessed by Etta, the Goddess can strip you of that blessing just as quickly as she gave it. So tread carefully.’ The way he enunciates his words, like he’s issuing a personal threat to us all, causes a chill to roll through the courtyard. ‘You will be called one by one today to give your blood in the manner chosen by the priestesses. You do not speak. Not before, not during, not after. Not a single word.’ He pauses again, and tension swells through me. ‘Does anybody know the punishment for speaking in the Sunken Temple?’ As the hair rises on the back of my neck, I don’t doubt that every single person here knows exactly what he’s talking about. The Sunken Temple is not just a temple of Etta. It is sacred to all the Gods, and only the priestesses may converse in this sacred space. ‘We’re not in the temple itself yet,’ Zelle reassures when he realises volunteers aren’t forthcoming. Even the young woman from Dorain has ceased hushing her older companion. ‘You can bet my life I wouldn’t be speaking if we were. Now, someone tell me, what’s the punishment?’ Slowly, a shaking hand rises into the air. Coulter. ‘You have your lips bound together?’ His voice trembles.
‘Yes,’ Zelle replies. ‘For how long?’ ‘One stitch and twelve moons of imprisonment for every word spoken.’ It’s a knight who answers this time, and I’m pretty sure it’s Grenda, the one Jonas told us was a serious contender. ‘Good.’ Zelle scans the crowd, nodding. ‘A stitch and a year for every word you speak. So keep your mouths shut in there. Or if you must say something, you’d better make it good, because those words may well be your last. ’ I can feel the nerves ripple through the space. Coulter is physically trembling, and it’s not the kind of clenched-fist tremble you can keep to yourself. His knees are jerking up and down, and from where I’m perched, it looks like his skin has taken on a greenish hue. Llinos places her hand on his arm and whispers something comforting in his ear. ‘Any questions?’ Holden barks.
I assume the question is rhetorical, and yet one hand shoots into the air: Zara’s. ‘Why aren’t you two in the Retterheld?’ she says. ‘You’d be eligible.
Did she turn down your offering?’ A collective gasp echoes at her gall, but while Holden’s face flashes with fury, Zelle offers a smile in response. ‘From my experience,’ he says, ‘one who cannot find happiness within the gifts they have already been given will struggle to be satisfied by more.
Now, unless there’s a question that actually has a purpose, let’s get that blood drawn.’ A couple of hushed whispers pass between a few of the Rettlings as my mind ponders what Zelle said. By his reasoning, I’m the only one this gifting will truly benefit. Maybe I should trust his judgement after all.
As silence takes hold of the group, I twist around and carefully make my way back down the cave wall. When I reach the ground, I immediately look for the group from my carriage, wanting their moral support.
Excluding Estel, that is.
After spotting Llinos in the crowd, I make a beeline for her, only to find my path blocked. Not by a Rettling, but by Commander Holden himself, the scowl still very much in place. Seeing him up close, I realise he’s not quite as short as I originally assumed; Zelle must just be exceptionally tall. ‘Of course, I should’ve known a Kultavaris wouldn’t be able to just stand and listen like everybody else.’
‘You knew my parents?’ I ask, surprised by my own forthrightness.
Holden scoffs and his features contort as though he’s swallowed something impossibly bitter. ‘To think, the Goddess chose the offspring of the bastard lord and his witch wife over, over …’ ‘Over you?’ I suggest.
A snarl rattles from his lips. Animosity from the other Rettlings I expected, but from one of the people in charge of training us? That’s something I wasn’t prepared for. Jonas’s words about the only people having problems with my father being those who were jealous of his powers swim around my head. Well, I can’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure this interaction is telling me that Holden was seriously jealous. ‘Holden.’ Zelle’s voice echoes in the cave. ‘Time to move.’ Holden bites down on his lip as he stares at me. ‘Plenty of Rettlings don’t make it out of the trials,’ he finally says, his voice almost a hiss. ‘I’ve even heard of one or two not making it through the vowing. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for you.’ What a delightful human, I think sarcastically as he turns on the ball of his foot and strides away. ‘What was that about?’ Jonas asks, appearing at my side. ‘Oh, nothing at all,’ I say, watching Holden march away. ‘Just another person who wants to see me dead, that’s all. Come on, we should go.’
