Chapter 8
give up trying to sleep as dawn’s weak light trickles in through the gaps in our makeshift walls. My chest is tight. Today I leave Kay and presentI myself to the High Hold.
I can’t bear to imagine what it will be like without her. Family and friends can’t see the Rettlings unless they’re invited to attend the balls held in Korvane’s court, meaning it could be months until I see my sister again, and fear gnaws at me that she won’t be safe without me. As yet, there’s been no word from Dinah or Lord Artur Lorathin.
A gentle trill sounds from outside and a smile pulls at my lips. No bird makes that sound, but a whistling Ruben does. Careful not to wake Kay, I slip out the door and into the street. The sky is grey, the sun having not yet broken the horizon, and Ruben’s smile provides a welcome warmth. ‘Hey Rosey.’ Ruben’s soft eyes look at me as he scratches at his stubble. ‘You got a minute?’ I smile. ‘Sure. I didn’t know if I’d get a chance to see you before I left …’ ‘Bet you thought you’d sneak off to claim great victory and power without even saying goodbye, right?’ He shakes his head as if he’s annoyed, but it doesn’t dim the smile on his lips. ‘I knew you were only ever using me for my warmth.’ I laugh and raise an eyebrow. ‘And do we want to talk about what you were using me for?’ He smirks and lowers his voice. ‘A gentleman never tells.’ The smile fades then, and his expression grows uncharacteristically serious. ‘I’ve got a gift for you.’
‘For me?’ I ask dumbly. ‘For one of our own,’ he says solemnly, repeating the words that were sprayed across the walls of the slum buildings almost immediately after the guards’ announcement yesterday morning, next to my initials.
The best graffiti I’ve seen was a thorny rose wrapped around the High Hold in triumph.
When I feel uncertain, I’ll picture that image in my mind.
Last night food was placed by our door. More food than I could ever eat, gifted for me to gain my strength before I enter the Retterheld. Just thinking of their kindness makes me want to weep.
Ruben reaches for his wrist and unfastens a thin bracelet with a single bead the size of a thumbnail. At first glance, it appears to be made of ordinary glass, but I quickly realise it’s far more than that. Magic has been physically channelled into the item, the swirling iridescent reds and yellows writhing with trapped power. ‘What is it?’ I ask as he holds it out to me. ‘A fire bead. It’s a one-shot thing though, I’m afraid. You throw it at the ground, and whatever is there will catch light.’ I gape, my jaw dropping in pure disbelief. Ruben’s giving me magic?
He winks. ‘Make sure you don’t light it on a patch of ice, all right?
Make it count.’ I take the bracelet in my hand and find myself at a loss for words, too mesmerised by the slight hum that fizzes through my skin where it touches the bead. ‘This isn’t just from me,’ Ruben rushes to add. ‘It’s from the slums.
From all of us.’ ‘The slums,’ I say, finally drawing my eyes away to look at him. ‘They’ve already given me so much. Too much.’ He nods. ‘People want to help give you a chance. Let’s be honest. We all know this kingdom would be a whole lot better if it were someone like you, and not Korvane’s narcissistic offspring, who wins.’ A coil of nerves twists in my stomach. Never, in all our nights together, has Ruben ever mentioned any disdain for the kingdom, and certainly not the king and his son. It would be treasonous. The fact that he’s risking this with me now, it’s … it’s terrifying, yet it also causes a rush of relief to roll through me. I might be on my own in there, but I’ll have people rooting for me on the outside, and that matters. One of us. One of the outcasts, the
downtrodden. Yes, I’m one of them all right. They taught me what it takes to survive, and I’m not going to forget that now.
I clip the bracelet around my wrist, then wrap my arms around Ruben’s torso. I’m not hugging him for his warmth now, nor to hide my loneliness the way I usually do. I hold him simply because I want to hold him as tightly as possible. It feels like my heart might burst with gratitude. I will do my damnedest to be worthy of his gift. ‘I have been very lucky to have a friend like you, Ruben,’ I choke out when we break apart.
He mock-winces. ‘Ouch. Friend-zoned just like that.’ I punch him lightly. ‘Maybe, but you’re a damned good friend to have.’ He rubs his shoulder as if I hadn’t pulled my punch. ‘Be gentle with me, Kultavaris. I’m not as deadly as you.’ I snort at his antics, then sober. ‘I really am so grateful. This … it could save my life.’ ‘I hope it does.’ He pauses awkwardly. ‘Well, I should go. Leave you to it.’ He turns to leave but I grab him by the shoulder. ‘Wait. I need to ask something of you. Something more,’ I add, glancing down at the bead around my wrist. ‘When I’m gone—’ ‘You want me to keep an eye on Kay?’ he finishes before I can. ‘You don’t even need to ask.’ Heat pricks behind my eyes as I look back up at him. ‘I don’t deserve you.’ ‘Sure you do, Rosey.’ He slips his hand around my neck and plants a gentle kiss on my lips before breaking away. ‘You deserve the entire fucking kingdom.’ A tear slips down my cheek as he steps away. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Acacia.’ I nod, hating the lump that has reformed in my throat. ‘I have some friends … friends in the High Hold. They should be coming to get her, to take care of her, but if they don’t … if she’s alone…’ I can’t even finish that sentence, let alone finish that thought. ‘She will never be alone, Rose. I promise you that. If they don’t come, she’ll move in with us. She’ll have to sleep next to my ma with her snoring, but she’ll be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it.’ As his eyes catch mine, a glint flickers within them. ‘Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t tell her what happened in the tannery.’ He winks .
A laugh chokes from my throat as I reach out and thump him on the arm again. ‘You better not!’ I grin at him, though instead of his smile widening at the memory, the way mine did, his face falls. For the first time I can ever remember, Ruben looks at me with an expression of pure seriousness. ‘Give them hell, Rose,’ he says. ‘You deserve that gifting. Go get it.’ ‘I plan on it.’ He hesitates. ‘The flame bead. Give it a little squeeze before you throw it. Just to make sure it works properly.’ ‘Thanks,’ I tell him again, wondering how the hell he got his hands on it in the first place. But I don’t ask him. Instead, I simply watch him walk away.
Kay is awake when I return inside, her cheeks once again glistening with tears. ‘Please, Kay.’ I kneel down beside her. ‘No more tears. Not now. Let’s not spend our last hours together like this.’ She sniffs. It’s such a simple action, yet it somehow transforms her from a beautiful young woman into my fragile little sister, someone I would give my life to protect. Which, I guess, is exactly what I’m about to do. ‘We have some time, right? Can you tell me some stories? Stories of before?’ Her voice cracks as she whispers to me. ‘Tell me about when we all had magic?’ ‘We have time,’ I reply softly. Precious little, but time enough for her.
Always for her. I sit next to her, put an arm around her shoulders, and start to talk of better times.
THIS IS WHAT I WANTED, right? A flicker of doubt fills me as I walk towards the sixth ring, and a desperate urge to turn around and run back to Kay nearly overtakes me. She offered me Mother’s ring to bring with me as a memento, but I don’t need tokens. I carry everything inside me already.
Still, I barely made it two steps from the front door before my own tears fell.
I keep moving forward. I have no choice now.
‘One of us!’ a voice calls out. I turn to the side to see a man in ragged clothes, his hand raised in salute. I wave my hand briefly in response, only for the same thing to happen a few steps later.
‘One of us!’
‘Go give ’em hell!’ ‘You’ve got this!’ Their words bolster me. I am one of them. And when I win this, I will give back to them in the way they deserve.
I’m still in the outer ring when a carriage draws up behind me. ‘You the Rettling from the slums?’ the driver asks, his eyes fixed on the large bags slung over my shoulders. ‘The flower?’ ‘Yes. Rose, Rose Kultavaris,’ I tell him.
His lips part to reveal a near-toothless smile. ‘Hop on. Only going as far as fourth, but we can pick you up another ride there.’ He reaches down and offers me a hand, exposing a tattoo on his wrist. A tendril of smoke, almost identical to Peter’s. It’s not a particularly bad design, but I’m surprised to see it replicated so closely. One of the tattoo artist’s favourite designs, perhaps?
The chants of ‘one of us’ follow me all the way into the fifth ring, and I am both bemused and heartened by all the support.
Just as he promised, when the driver reaches the fourth ring, he secures me a lift through the next few gates, though I’m back in the back this time, bouncing on the hard wooden bed alongside crates of pears. It’s tempting to take one or more and slip them into my pocket – after all, these are headed to the High Hold, to people who have likely never felt a rumbling stomach, let alone pure starvation – but I’ve got this far in life without stealing food and I’m not going to start now.
The walls of the High Hold tower above the lower city rings, masking all inside it besides the tips of the highest turrets of the palace. Foreboding.
That’s one word that springs to mind. Corrupt, malignant, and dangerous are others.
Thousands of people live within those walls, hidden from view. They’re the king’s court. Dozens of noble families with their own houses – mansions, really – each filled with their own servants.
Then there’s the barracks, which are occupied by those who train to be guards, bound to fight and die for the king. As well as the soldiers, the walls are bursting with priestesses, wardens, and emissaries. Sellers, scholars,
physicians, and healers. There are stables crowded with horses, as well as all the stablehands needed to tend to and groom the animals. Scribes and chefs. Craftsmen and acolytes. The High Hold is filled with the most powerful, respected, and richest of all in Morathka, and now I’m to join them yet again .
I don’t want to feel nervous. I want to feel as confident as I did when I scaled the third wall and monitored the guards at the temple. As confident as I pretended to be when I told Kay everything would be fine. But it’s hard.
As I step out of the carriage, I clutch the satchel Dinah gave me, wishing I’d taken the dagger and slipped it in the back of my trousers already. Instead, a steeling breath is all I have to quench my nerves as I make my way up the steps to where over a dozen knights stand with their
bonded dire wolves. ‘Rose Kultavaris,’ I tell them.
Immediately, they step aside. There’s no questioning me today. It should be a relief, but it doesn’t stop the skitter of nerves at the way the wolves’ eyes follow me as I walk through the entrance towards the narrow passageway beyond. Unlike the rest of the Wrohelm walls, which are only ten or so feet wide, the inner ring wall protecting the High Hold is almost double that. And traversing the narrow passageway through it, lit only by pale yellow lamps, feels like walking into a whole new world. I suppose it is.
I hate the gasp that leaves my lips as I enter the High Hold. There is no darkness anymore. The wall’s stones, which were onyx black on the outside, are marble white here, reflecting the weak light that falls on them and turning it into something truly spectacular. It is the sheer amount of open space that stuns me the most. The room between the buildings, the height of which dwarfs even the largest structures in the outer rings.
Several passersby offer me a glance, only to wrinkle their noses and scurry away as if poverty were contagious, yet I pay them no mind. The High Hold. This is where Kay belongs. And I will get her here, even if it’s the last thing I do.
Though first I have to figure out where I’m supposed to be going.
While the rest of Wrohelm is divided into rings, the circle of the High Hold is divided into arcs fanning out from the palace at the centre. While I’m pretty sure the Rettlings aren’t going to be in the temple arc or the courtier arc, I don’t know for certain, and annoyingly, there’s no big sign
with ‘Retterheld’ written on it, directing me. Which means I’m going to have to ask someone.
As I search out a friendly face among the scores of people milling about in their finest furs, I spot a priestess of Yordenrin – Goddess of Chaos – dressed in a purple cloak. Priestesses feel like a safe bet to ask for help.
With a slight grunt, I hoist my bags firmly back onto my shoulder and hurry over to her. ‘Excuse me.’ I wait until she’s looking at me before I continue. ‘Do you know where the Rettlings are supposed to go?’ The elderly woman tilts her head to the side, and the purple stone within her forehead gleams like fire in amethyst. Rather than speaking, she merely points towards the palace.
It’s not the most helpful direction I’ve ever been given, but I do as she directed, walking between two large buildings with great colonnades while trying to keep my mind on the task at hand, rather than getting distracted by all the wondrous sights around me.
I know it’s been fourteen years since I was here, but my memory has grossly failed me. Either that or it deliberately tried to forget how truly magnificent it was so as not to make me ache for it more. Everything feels like I am seeing it for the first time.
To my right, a large pond is set in front of a red brick building, and waterlilies grow above broad-plated leaves. To my left, a group of red cloaks – priestesses of Niairah, Goddess of Air and Fire – stand in silence around a vortex of swirling flames. I assume the building behind them is a temple to the Goddess. Just as I’m starting to think I never spent any time in this part of the ring, I spot a large wall behind the temple and a spark of recognition alights within me.
Is it the barracks beyond there or the courts? No, the courthouses were in the eastern arc, I’m sure of that. So that would be the barracks, wouldn’t it? And for some reason, I suspect that’s where I’m meant to go. I turn, hoping to find another guard or priestess I can ask, when I hear my name
called. ‘Rose? Rose Kultavaris?’ The man calling me is dressed in a tight white top and a pair of equally snug dark black trousers that sure as hell leave nothing to the imagination, though from what I can see, that’s the point. Not wanting to be caught staring, I draw my eyes up his torso. Shadows curve around his abs and his
shoulders have to be equally broad as Ruben’s, only far more filled out. But it’s his face that holds my attention. His warm sandy hair, his amber eyes that hold a hint of familiarity, and his soft smile. A corkscrewing that has nothing to do with nerves ripples through my stomach as he strides towards me. ‘Rose Kultavaris,’ he says, embracing me – or rather, engulfing me with his arms. When we break away, his grin is replaced by a frown. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he says. ‘You, a Rettling? Honestly, when I saw your name …’ He lowers his voice slightly, eyes lingering on my hair. ‘You’re still stripped, right?’ ‘Jonas?’ I feel my lips break into a grin as I finally place him. ‘Jonas Lorathin?’ The last time I saw Jonas, he was a scrawny boy, desperate to prove himself. To grow some muscles and fight with the men. Well, it sure as hell looks like he succeeded in that.
His face is partially hidden by a full, neatly kept beard, and the top half of his thick blond hair is tied in a knot, while the remainder is in a thick braid that passes his shoulders. The type of braids I could imagine getting a good hold of as I pull him— ‘You’re staring,’ he says, a slight quirk on his lips. ‘Is that a good thing?’ His voice cuts into my inappropriate thoughts before they can fully form, and I clear my throat to buy myself a moment. ‘It’s an … odd thing.’ I say truthfully. ‘It’s weird, you know? In my head, you’re still a little kid.’ ‘Yeah, same.’ A smile flickers into a smirk, and good Gods, it’s cute on him. Reassuring, comforting … flirtatious. I must remember to thank Dinah for putting those extra dealun seeds in my bag. ‘Most of the other Rettlings are sparring in the battle yard.’ Jonas’s voice once again stops my daydreams in their tracks. ‘Everyone’s keen to get acquainted with their opponents and explore the king’s weaponry store, which he’s opened for our use. You know, work out the best ways and tools to beat them.’ Fuck. I was so focused on getting as much time with Kay as possible that I didn’t even think about the advantages that would have come with arriving early. Well, there’s no point wasting time now.
‘The aim of the Retterheld is to win the challenges, not kill the other competitors.’ I’m not sure why it seems so important to say this. I’m not normally naïve, but a part of me had just hoped.
His smile widens. ‘I like your optimism.’ But it’s foolish. The words go unsaid but hang in the air regardless. ‘Do you know whether your father has my sister?’ He blinks. ‘Should he?’ Panic grips me. ‘I … I asked if he would keep her nearby.’ He shrugs. ‘Then he probably did so. I haven’t been able to see him since I arrived last night.’ His tone is vaguely apologetic .
I force a smile. ‘No problem. Can you take me somewhere to dump this stuff, then to the battle yard?’ I ask. ‘I guess it’s time I got practising.’ ‘Sure thing.’ He lets out a slight chuckle as he tosses me another glance. ‘Rose Kultavaris,’ he mutters again. ‘In the Retterheld.’ He shakes his head in utter disbelief.
I tighten my grip on my bags. I’m going to prove him wrong. Prove all of them wrong. I deserve to be here, and I can win.
