Page 220 of Feralheart

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” I gestured for them to come closer, my voice dropping. “We’re not dying. Lyndie, you take Reece. I’ll take Fen. We pair off but stay close enough to help if someone goes down.”

“We could use communication signals,” Lyndie said, already calculating. “Hand signs for danger, retreat, rally. Simple enough to see across distance but not obvious to anyone watching.”

We settled on a fist for danger, a palm out for retreat, and a circling motion for regroup. Lyndie’s elite training showed in how efficiently she moved. Reece fumbled through them twice before they stuck. Fen’s hands moved easily, but he’d spent a lifetime learning to communicate without words.

Planning gave us something solid to hold onto, a way to pretend we had control when the next trial would do its best to kill us.

“Prince Fenian,” someone called out.

We all turned.

Lady Vella Severine stood at the boundary between our camp and theirs, a scroll in her hand. Her face held calculation and something that might’ve been pity if I thought she was capable of it.

Fen’s shoulders locked.

“Your mother sent a message to me, but she asked me to pass it on to you.” She held out the scroll, the royal seal visible even from where I stood.

“I’m not interested,” Fen said.

“She’s your mother.”

“She’s the queen. There’s a difference.”

Vella’s mouth pressed flat. She glanced over her shoulder at the elite camp before stepping closer, her voice dropping, though not enough that I couldn’t hear. “Something is coming. Not only the trial.” She paused, and for the first time since I’d known her, the calculation flickered into something that might be genuine concern. “The other riders have been meeting. Late. When they think no one’s watching.” Her fingers tightened on the scroll. “Watch your back tomorrow. All of you.”

“Why warn us?” Fen asked. “You’ve made your position clear.”

Her jaw set, and for a moment I thought she’d walk away without answering.

“You know what Alys wanted.” Her gaze flicked to me, then back to him. “She’d have hated what you’ve become. Even more, she would’ve hated whatever the others are planning. It isn’t racing.” She lifted her chin. “I intend to beat you, Fenian. In daylight, in front of everyone, the way it’s supposed to be done. I can’t do that if someone opens your throat in the dark.”

She set the scroll on the ground between them, though she didn’t let go of it immediately. Her fingers lingered on the royal seal. Then she straightened and walked back toward the elite camp.

I’d spent years learning to read the difference between someone pretending to be concerned and someone feeling it. Vella had spent as long learning to show what she wanted others to read.

I wasn’t sure what I’d just seen.

Fen stared at the scroll, his mouth twisted.

“Are you going to read it?” Reece asked.

“No.”

Fen turned his back on the message and walked over to Aristus, who dipped his head down and huffed softly across Fen’s front.

As evening fell, the others stayed away from us.

Only one rider broke the pattern.

Lord Cedric, the man who’d nodded at us days ago, approached slowly, coming in from the side, his gaze tracking over the quiet elite camp before settling on Fen.

“Your Highness.” He kept his voice low. “A word if you have time?”

Fen hesitated, but grunted.

They moved a short distance away, beneath some scruffy trees that partly blocked the view of the camp.

I couldn’t hear the words so I read how they held their bodies.