Page 47

“What?” I asked, as I put another forkful of eggs in my mouth.

“I thought you’d be nervous and simpering and telling me you couldn’t possibly eat, or something else like that.” Drusilla sank into the chair opposite me and chuckled. “But you’re here eating like one of the knights.”

“I’m not stupid,” I said, taking a sip of the sharp, sweet yellow juice. “You have to eat before you fight.”

“Did you sleep well?”

My cheeks burned. “Yes, just fine, thank you.”

“No nightmares?” She asked with a smile. “I heard you cry out once but you didn’t sound frightened.”

“No, no nightmares.” My cheeks were positively flaming. My dreams had made me cry out, and it hadn’t been out of fear. Gods, howembarrassing.

“Good. So you’ll be well rested and well fed for the trial today.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ll make it through, I promise. Theron doesn’t want you to fail.”

This was a new thought that should have occurred to me much earlier. Drusilla was right - Theron wanted me weak and tortured, and desperate for his mercy. Not dead. I breathed a little sigh of relief, as unwarranted as it perhaps was. The trial wouldn’t be impossible.

Drusilla began to braid my hair as I finished my breakfast, and not a strand was out of place when she was done.

“If you’re done, we can get you into your leathers now,” she said.

“Wait.” I said, going to the dressing table. I sat down in front of the mirror, and picked up the soft kohl pencil. I smudged black onto my eyelids and underneath my eyes along the lash line.

“Why are you doing that?” Drusilla asked. “You look like one of those northerners now.”

“I am one of those Northerners, Drusilla.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing that.”

I turned to smile at her. “It makes me look fierce. And I feel it too.”

“Very well, if you’re done making yourself look like a Malakh, let’s get you dressed.” She gestured for me to stand up, and I pulled off my nightgown.

It wasn’t until I was in my full leathers and Drusilla was adjusting the bodice that I allowed myself to remember what I was about to do. I was going to win back part of my kingdom today. I had no idea what, or who, it would be, but I was going to do it.

Drusilla nodded her approval. “You look good,” she said, looking me up and down. “Very fierce indeed.”

A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Regan stepped into my chamber. He looked me up and down with a nod. “Ready, Your Highness?”

“Certainly, but for my weapon. Where is it?”

“You will be provided your weapon in the arena,” he replied, “no one can touch that beastly thing, so it’s been placed in a case in the armory, you will be allowed to retrieve it from there under watch before you’re escorted in.”

“Why thank you.”

Regan stepped aside and gestured to the door. “Well, if you’re ready, madam, they are all waiting for you.”

I kept my head high as I strode down the passageway alongside Regan. I was a warrior. I was a fighter. I would show them just what I could do. I wouldn’t be cowed by the looks of these guards, by any fucking Velesian I passed.

We descended into the hall and crossed it out into the open. Already I could hear the roaring of the crowd in the distance. The breeze blew through the thick green foliage above me, and I breathed it in deeply.

Three guards flanked us as we walked, and then there were suddenly six. I suppressed a smirk.

“Good morning.” A deep voice sounded beside me, and I looked up into Rook’s face. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed much more formally than I’d seen him before, a fine linen shirt tucked into black trousers. He carried his ax in his right hand, and gave me a smile. “I’ve been sent to make sure you and Arankos don’t lay waste to Veles as soon as it’s in your hands again.”

“Foiling my plans again,” I said, rolling my eyes with a smile.

Rook chuckled, tossing the ax handle in his grip. “You’re in remarkably good spirits, did you have pleasant dreams?” He gave me a side glance, his eyebrow cocked.