Chapter 73
squeeze my eyes tightly closed against the light that comes as a blinding contrast to the depths of the caves I was in just moments before. When II blink them open again, confusion takes hold. The room I’ve been taken to isn’t my room in the Retterheld barracks; instead, it’s a work of art. A sumptuous bed, larger than any I have seen, sits in the centre of the space, and ornate tapestries and gilded mirrors hang on the walls, the latter of which reflect the light flowing from the large, lead-lined windows. I step towards one and gape at the sight that awaits me. From here I can see out across the entirety of Wrohelm, the city and its rings fading into the distance. It’s a view the likes of which I hadn’t even realised was possible.
Whatever this room is, it must be in the very highest part of the High Hold, or at least close to it.
The height is somewhat dizzying, and I step back, trying to draw in a breath. I struggle to get my thoughts in order. Did that really happen? Did I really just win the gifting? Everything I ever wanted is mine. It feels … unbelievable. A dream. A hope. A wish. Now my reality. I almost cannot accept it, yet I know it is real. I can still feel the weight of my dagger in my palm as I killed Zara and the sting of the grazes on my shins and elbows from the countless shafts I climbed through. I can still see Jonas’s eyes as he thought his last moment had come. Yes, it is real.
With my heart pounding, I try to take a deep, calming breath, when something new causes my pulse to quicken further. My magic. I can feel it within me. Weaving through my veins. Filling my cells. Gods, I forgot how it feels, that warm, comforting buzz between my ribs.
Several small ornamental plant pots sit around the room. While looking at one, I twist my wrist, feeling the tendrils of my magic flow from my fingertips. As I watch, the plant flourishes, its leaves twisting upwards as new buds sprout, then open into wide, colourful petals. Flowers.
My magic. Just like my mother’s.
It has truly been returned.
A gasp escapes my lungs and tears trickle down my cheeks. I did it. I actually did it. ‘Rose?’ a familiar voice calls from behind the door. ‘Rose, are you here?’ ‘Kyor?’ I twist towards the sole entrance to the room. ‘Rose?’ I hear him call my name again a second before the door swings open. His look is one of awe and wonder and pure adoration. ‘I knew you would succeed. You did it, Thorn. You did it!’ His grin is triumphant and proud and infectious, and I find myself laughing, giddy with pure joy as I fall into his arms. His scent and his arms wrap around me in delicious perfection. Everything about this moment is more than I could have dreamed. He is here. I am here. ‘You are the most magnificent person I have ever met,’ he declares before planting his lips against mine. His magic does not spark between us now. We don’t need it. Kyor as he is, is enough for me. And from the way he holds me, as if I am something to be cherished, savoured, it’s clear that the feeling is mutual.
When we finally break away from the kiss, I look up into those clear blue eyes, unsure how I ever thought they were icy. That’s not the type of blue they are at all. They’re the blue of a cerulean sky, of clear, warm water.
The type that invites you in and holds you in complete comfort. ‘Where are we?’ I ask. ‘And how the hell did you know I’d be here?’ ‘It’s the Spire,’ he tells me. ‘Tallest point of the High Hold. I always wondered what this part of the palace was for. It’s always been off limits, even to me. But then I saw the priestesses outside—’ ‘The priestesses?’ ‘They told me that this is where they take the gifted before the final
ball.’ ‘They told you I won?’ He shakes his head. ‘They didn’t need to. It was always going to be you.
I knew, Thorn. I knew it would be you.’
He looks down at me as his hands cup my cheeks. Both our eyes are glistening with tears. ‘I have it all back, Kyor. Everything. My magic, my wealth, my title.’ As I say the words aloud, a realisation takes hold. In the back of my mind, there was always an expiry date to this relationship. The last thing the Prince of Morathka could do was marry a stripped former lady of his court.
But that’s not who I am anymore. I am worthy of him now. We can truly be together. In this moment, with this gift, we have something I didn’t know I desperately needed: a future together. I was hardly likely to be Korvane’s ideal daughter-in-law before, but now I’m the gifted, and if Kyor tells him the truth about my mother, then what possible objections could he have?
As Kyor gently combs his fingers through my hair, I look with surprise at the bright white strands. ‘I thought it would go back to brown,’ I admit. ‘You know, now that my magic has returned.’ ‘I like it this way,’ he says, leaning forward and kissing me gently on the forehead. ‘I like everything about you, Thorn. You know I love—’ A loud knock on the door cuts off the words I long to hear. At least the feel of his kiss lingers against my temple. ‘We’ll hold that thought.’ He grins ruefully. ‘It’ll keep,’ I agree softly with a smile of my own. My heart is so full, it feels like it might burst with happiness. All my troubles and all my trials are behind me now. My shoulders ease for what feels like the first time in moons. ‘Lady Rose.’ The deep female voice resonates from behind the door. ‘It’s time to get you ready for the ball.’ ‘Something tells me I’m going to have a hard time keeping you to myself tonight.’ Kyor mock huffs, gently kissing the top of my ear. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got all the time in the world,’ I tell him.
He shifts back, his face alight with joy as he runs a finger along my jawline. ‘We do,’ he agrees. ‘We really do.’ There’s another impatient knock, immediately followed by the same deep, gruff voice. ‘Lady Rose, we really do need to get you ready.’ ‘Yes, yes, that’s fine,’ I call back. ‘Come in.’ I kiss Kyor’s lips lightly. ‘I’ll see you at the ball.’ ‘I’ll be saving every dance for you, Lady Rose the Gifted,’ Kyor promises, pride in every word.
He kisses me once more before moving to the doorway and opening it.
A stream of maids, dressed identically in pale yellow frocks and white hats, scurry in. Kyor frowns slightly, his gaze hovering over them.
A laugh escapes my lips. After everything I’ve just survived, he’s worried about leaving me alone with half a dozen maids? ‘I’ll be fine,’ I tell him. ‘You go and get ready. I’ll see you at the ball.’ He nods quickly, winks at me with a cheeky smile, and disappears outside.
Unlike me, who has absolutely no idea what I’m doing, the maids quickly get to work. One heads straight into the bathroom, another for the wardrobe, while one starts stripping my bloodstained clothes from me. ‘Congratulations, my lady,’ she says as she works, her eyes trained downwards so that all I can see is the blanket of fabric covering her hair. ‘They’re pleased on the streets. One of us. That is the chant, is it not?’ My heart surges as I think of all the people my victory has brought hope to. The gifting may have been about getting Kay’s and my powers and station back, but maybe I’ve achieved far more than that. ‘We will let you bathe,’ she says. ‘The dresses are on your bed for you to choose from. When you have selected your gown, I will come and help you dress and do your hair.’ ‘Thank you,’ I tell her with a grateful smile.
The bath is everything I need it to be – warm, cleansing, and scented enough to remove the smell of blood from my skin. I wish I had asked Kyor to stay with me a little longer so he could join me, but there will be time for that later. Now that I’m not a slum rat anymore.
My eyes drift closed to thoughts of Kay. Will she know yet that I’ve won? Perhaps, if her stripped magic has returned to her as instantly as mine did. Yet her magic had not even settled before it was removed from her, so will she recognise the feeling of it?
Will the ball be the first time she learns of the identity of the gifted? I have no doubt she’s been worried sick all this time, but a smile of anticipation curls my lips as I imagine her ecstatic joy when I finally see her. Surely the tension brought on by Holden’s death will fall away? I imagine seeing Benny and Jonas, too. While there will be envy there – how can there not? – I know they will be happy for me.
The conflict between elation and worry continues to undulate within me as I drift into sleep in the embrace of the warm, comforting water. When a
knock on the door startles me awake, I discover the bath is now stone cold, and I realise just how long I’ve slept. It’ s hardly ideal. ‘My lady, I’m sorry, we can’t wait any longer. Guests will be arriving for the ball soon. You need to get dressed.’ I step out of the bath, towel around me, and head back into the main chamber, where three dresses have been placed on the bed. They’re far from the unique chicness of Llinos’s designs, but beautiful nonetheless, and I waste little time in picking the deep emerald ballgown with a plunging neckline. ‘That colour suits you perfectly,’ the young woman says. She’s the only maid present now, but there’s something vaguely familiar about her, though it could just be that she was one of the fussing maids from earlier. ‘Thank you. My mother always looked beautiful in green.’ ‘Come, slip it on, then I’ll tighten it and fix your hair for you.’ I do as she suggests, stepping into the ballgown. The fabric is insanely soft, and as she pulls the ties tight around the waist, I can’t help but gaze at my reflection. No, it’s not like Llin’s creations at all, but there is something almost regal about it. Fit for a princess, I let myself think, before hastily pushing the thought aside.
My heart aches for Llin. I wish she was here, holding a dagger and taking it to my dress with a wicked gleam in her eye. Almost immediately my thoughts wander to how Caroline is coping and if she still blames me for her loss. I do.
When the dress is on, I struggle not to gawp at the finished look. I truly do look like a princess. I try not to imagine myself on Kyor’s arm, yet no matter what I do, the image refuses to go away. Korvane hates my family, yes, but only because he believes in my mother’s supposed misdeeds. Now that my powers and status have been restored, there’s nothing to stop Kyor from sharing the truth with his father. Once he does that, the final barrier to our future will fall away.
Though even the limits of my imagination can’t envision cosy dinners with Korvane. The man who ruined us all. Whose actions led to my parents’ deaths … but maybe I just need time, too. Maybe there is more to him than the cruel man I’ve seen. I hope so, for Kyor’s sake. ‘Come, sit down.’ The maid leads me over to the dressing table where she starts to brush my hair the moment I’ve taken a seat. ‘You love the prince very much, don’t you, my lady?’
I blink. That’s not the small talk I was expecting. My eyes tilt upwards, catching hers in the reflection. Was I thinking my thoughts out loud? Or were they simply written all over my face?
She smiles gently. ‘I was here earlier,’ she explains. ‘When the prince was with you. And he looked at you with such adoration. I imagine it must feel incredible to have someone look at you like that.’ She sounds wistful and is giving me such a knowing smile that I feel vaguely uncomfortable.
Korvane no doubt has spies everywhere, and the familiarity with which she’s speaking to me is not normal for any maid. Is she trying to entrap me into saying something damaging? ‘The prince is a good man,’ I murmur, evading the question, and she combs a thin wax into my hair to assist with the styling. ‘I have an idea for a style,’ she says, twisting a strand of damp hair around her finger. ‘A style I know the prince will love.’ She takes several pieces from the front, curling them into deep spirals.
It’s not a look I’d normally go for with my frizzy hair, but I have to admit, it suits me more than I expected. We sit in silence as she works, twisting and twirling my hair expertly. ‘You are lucky to have someone like him you can trust so well,’ she says again after a long moment.
This time my jaw tightens. I’m not saying that me defeating fifty other trained warriors to win the Retterheld should be what this woman wishes to discuss, but she is clearly more interested in Kyor than my achievements, and that’s ringing all my alarm bells. ‘As I said, he is a good man,’ I repeat, hoping my curt tone will be enough to dissuade her from her prying. ‘Yes. And so misunderstood, too,’ she continues nonetheless. ‘But I suspect you understand him. Don’t you, my lady?’ I open my mouth, not sure how to respond, when something flutters down from the woman’s hand. A piece of paper lands by my foot. ‘Oh, sorry, my lady,’ she says, though her tone is guileless and says she is anything but. The paper is far easier for me to pick up as I’m sitting, so I reach for it. As I take hold of it, the corner starts to unfold and the edges of a charcoal image become visible.
My pulse quickens. What is this? Has she got hold of one of the images Kyor drew of me? Is this a blackmail attempt?
The maid stands still behind me.
‘See for yourself, my lady,’ she commands, tone unlike any maid I’ve
ever met.
Unable to do otherwise, I obey.
My hands tremble as I unfold the paper, and my eyes lock on the image in front of me. Just as I expected, it’s one of Kyor’s pictures. The perfectly drawn proportions, the detail in the eyes … I know his style pe rfectly, just as I know the bed the female figure lies upon. It is the one in the kitchen of the barracks. The place he told me he had used as a sanctuary long before the Retterheld even began. I thought I was the first he’d welcomed into his inner sanctum, but evidently not. For while I know both the style and the location of the image, what I do not know is the woman who is the subject of his art. It’s certainly not me, and that’s a punch to the gut in and of itself.
As I study the unknown woman, her familiarity niggles at me.
She lies there, arms outstretched, smiling gracefully as the blanket discreetly covers the top of her chest. Her hair falls in lazy curls, almost identical to the ones the maid has teased mine into. The look of pure bliss on her face, and those eyes … I lift my gaze back to the mirror, to the reflection of the maid. A gasp sounds in my throat.
She has dropped her hat, letting the full length of her hair fall down past her shoulders. It is not dark like that of the woman in the picture. Nor like her sister’s was when she was still alive. It is the same tone as mine. White- blonde and stripped of colour, just like she was stripped of her magic. ‘Thea.’ I choke on the name of Estel’s sister as tears burn my eyes.
Thea, who was stripped of magic and cast out, all for the perfidy of having the gall to fall pregnant with Kyor’s child.
As I gape at the subject of Kyor’s picture, now here in my very presence, her lips twist into a sneer. ‘He told me he loved me, too. Whatever he has told you, whatever he has made you believe, he will never choose you. He is just a spoiled rich boy, forever tethered to his narcissistic brute of a father. And you will never come before his king and crown. It’s better you learn that lesson now than when it’s too late.’ My chest is so tight I can barely draw breath. This can’t be real. Can it?
I stare at the picture, yet it blurs as tears begin to fall. He drew her like he drew me. Has lain with her in the bed I considered my sanctuary.
As I struggle to ease the trembling in my lungs, Thea pulls the paper from my loose hand. ‘I know I may seem cruel now,’ she says, ‘but I’m
doing you a favour, Rose Kultavaris. You have your powers back. Don’t lose them again for him.’ My throat is closed with rising tears, and before I can say a word, she turns and walks out, leaving me with hair styled perfectly like hers.
