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Our eyes met, and I knew we were thinking the same thing: didn’t want someone to come looking for us and find us down here. We left the room just as we’d found it, an abyss of inky darkness with a big, mysterious lock.
13
“There you are,” Amity said as I stepped back into my quarters. “I was about to send Rue out looking for you. Your escort has been asking about you, and he’s quite insistent.”
Rue shifted back into her human form, looking slightly disappointed to have lost the tracking mission. I clapped a hand over my mouth as guilt rushed through me. Barion! Of course, he’d heard about what had happened with Rona—surely he was worried about me. I’d been so wrapped up in the political repercussions I hadn’t checked in with him.
“Terribly sorry,” I said, “I was with the other ladies and lost track of time.”
Amity raised her eyebrows, but only nodded. “Well, there’s lunch if you want it, milady, and the designer is currently meeting with the council, and should be here shortly. Would you like Rue to fetch your escort?”
“Please,” I said.
Rue hurried out of the room, and a few minutes later, Barion burst in with his eyes wide. I had barely stood up from the table before he crossed the room in a hurry, then tugged me into a hard embrace.
“Reyna,” he said gruffly. “I heard what happened. You’re all right?”
“I’m all right,” I said, muffled into his chest. “Seriously, I’m okay.”
He pulled back and gripped my upper arms, examining me as if checking for wounds. “You’re sure? You were attacked by a wolf, Reyna, that’s no small event.”
“I’m aware of that,” I said. I sat back down at the table and scarfed down some of the sliced meats and cheeses the girls had prepared for me. “Things were a little complicated because of the weapon I used.”
“I’m glad you had it on you,” Barion said. “I knew I taught you to be prepared.”
“Well, I would’ve appreciated it if you’d told me everything about that blade,” I hissed, low. “I’d only intended to subdue her.”
Barion pressed his lips together in a thin line. “With a wolf like Rona, one of you would’ve ended up dead. I’m simply grateful it was her and not you.”
I sighed. I knew he was right—if I had injured Rona, she would’ve kept attacking me. Even though the king had intervened, she would’ve been punished by her pack for her insubordination. Most likely, the outcome would’ve been the same. That didn’t make me feel any better about it, though.
“I know they confiscated the knife,” Barion said. “Take this one.”
He pulled a small knife from his waistband and handed it hilt-first to me. It was simpler than the one he’d given me prior; this one was clearly from his own collection. The hilt was well-worn, and the blade was simple, sharp steel. No embellishments. Function only. I found I liked the weight of it in my hand much more than the fine one I’d had before.
I tossed it, flipping my grip to test the weight. “Is this one altered in any way I need to know about?” I asked with a pointed arch of my brow.
He huffed a laugh. “I wish it was,” he said. “That knife served you well. It kept you safe. Well—” he paused. “You kept yourself safe. The knife helped. Keep that one with you until this competition is over.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Lady Reyna?” Amity said apologetically. “I hate to interrupt, but the tailor is on her way.”
Barion stood up briskly, then clapped his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were soft as he looked at me. “Stay alert. We’re in the final stages of this competition.”
“I will,” I said again. I couldn’t tell him I intended to lose—but I also intended to stay alive. For me, and for the future I wanted with Griffin. Griffin—in a sudden swoop, I missed him terribly. I wondered what he might’ve said, knowing I’d taken down Rona like that. He never liked my focus on sparring, but after this, maybe he’d understand why I trained so much. I was grateful to have another blade, in any case.
Barion left in a hurry, and just a few moments later, there was another brisk knock on the door. I stuffed the knife into my trunk, stood up, and had just swallowed a big bite of bread and cheese when Rue opened the door.
The woman on the other side of the threshold was so gorgeous, I nearly dropped the piece of cheese I was holding in hand. She was tall, with enormous brown eyes in her youthful face, and long, flowing hair so silver it was like it was spun from spider-silk. She wore a simple, pale blue gown, and carried with her a large box and a canvas bag swung over her shoulder.
“Good afternoon,” she said, in a voice smooth like expensive wine. “I’m Aerika, of Camille’s. I’ve brought your gown as discussed.”
Not discussed with me, certainly, but discussed with someone. This woman’s hair was so striking, and her aura so…magnetic. Was she Fae? Would I know if she was?
Aerika breezed in like she owned the place, then placed the box at the foot of the bed. “We’ve designed this gown off the traditional Daybreak formalwear,” she explained, “but updated for Efra’s climate and for the high formality of the ball. We can make any adjustments requested.”
She pulled the dress from the box; she was so tall she could hold it up easily without the hem brushing the floor. Again, I nearly gasped with shock. I hadn’t been exactly looking forward to this fitting—I was much more interested in the artifacts beneath the manor—but I couldn’t deny how stunningly beautiful this gown was. And how its familiar, elegant designs made my heart clench with sudden homesickness.
