For a heartbeat I stand there, absorbing the sound, as if it could block out all the pain of the day, but when it stops, I blink myself back to reality and take another step forward into a cluster of women dressed in brown smocks, busy at work. The man, who I assume was the owner of the laugh, is sitting on a table with his back to me.

With a sudden sense of nervousness, I clear my throat, and several pairs of eyes turn to me. All questioning. Some fearful.

‘Sorry.’ I swallow the lump that has filled my throat. ‘I wondered if you could help me?’

‘Rettlings aren’t supposed to be down here.’ The woman who speaks is shorter than me, with honey-blonde hair and round eyes. ‘Food’s served in an hour. You’ll have to wait until then, I’m afraid. We weren’t expecting you back from the vows so early. We can only do so much.’

Her exasperated tone – and the comment itself – take me by surprise.

‘Sorry, I … that isn’t what I’m here for.’ I stumble over my words. ‘I wanted to know, to ask, if you know the way to the library?’

‘The library?’ She looks confused. ‘Oh, well. Maybe …’

Rather than replying, she turns to the man on the table, who hasn’t moved an inch. For the first time I look at him properly. He’s dressed in a plain black shirt, through which I can see his back is rippled with muscles, and there’s something familiar about the cut of his hair and the tension fixed across his shoulders.

I realise all too late who it is. Kyor. The life ruiner. Short of turning around and running back up the stairs to my warded room, there’s nothing I can do. And even then, I don’t think I’d be fast enough. Still, he won’t kill me here, not in front of the cooks – I’m at least certain of that – so I stomp hard on any fear that wants to rise.

In one smooth, swift motion, Kyor jumps down off the table and turns around. Rather than look at me, he faces the cook, flashing her the type of smile I didn’t think he was capable of.

‘It’s okay, Leilah,’ he says with an unexpectedly roguish wink. ‘I’ll take care of this.’

He found the time to remove his furs and put on a shirt, but he’s only managed to half-clean his face; blue smudges remain on his eyebrow, and there’s a shadow of stubble around his lips.

He moves closer to me, his voice low. ‘Think books are going to help you survive this thing, Thorn?’ he scoffs.

‘Maybe I need the library to find a way to spell you into admitting what you did all those years ago.’

The slightest hint of a smile flickers on his lips. ‘You are so damned prickly. And you need magic to spell. Something I believe you’re lacking.’

His eyes lock on mine and it’s war again – a battle not to be the first one to look away.

‘Ky—Your majesty.’ It’s Leilah’s voice that causes us both to look away. ‘If you don’t mind …’

She gestures to the women around her, all looking extremely uncomfortable, not to mention unable to do their jobs. With a flush of embarrassment, I edge back.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say as I turn back to the staircase. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

I hurry past the women.

‘Hey, Thorn?’ Kyor calls out to me.

I stop, only to curse myself for responding to his stupid bloody nickname. I grit my teeth and start to move, but he speaks again. ‘You’ll find access to the library through the guards’ temple. Maybe there’ll be a book to help you save yourself. But I doubt it.’

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Chapter 22

Kyor is lying. He has to be. I can’t think of a single reason in the world why he would actually help me. Send me into a forest full of hungry dire wolves? Absolutely. Throw me into the path of a speeding carriage? Again yes. But help me with anything? No.

And yet I head to the guards’ temple all the same. Of course, there’s a good chance the door was somewhere in that kitchen and Kyor was left chuckling to himself the moment he sent me on this wild goose chase, but if I can’t find a way in through the temple, then I’ll just go down to the kitchen later, once the cooks have left, and have a proper look around.

As I make my way across the battle yard towards the white stone building, the sound of his laugh echoes in my memory, stirring my hatred to a new level. What must it be like to laugh so freely? To know that whatever happens, life will always be one big party. He’s never known hunger. Never known suffering. And it’s not like there’s any real chance of him dying in this thing. The king just wouldn’t allow it. I’ll admit that the fact he knew the cook’s name caught me by surprise, but there’s bound to be a reason for that. Something he gains from pretending to be friends with the staff. Better portion sizes, probably.

I do my best to quash all thoughts of the prince as I reach the temple and push the wooden doors open.

This is not a temple to Etta alone; it’s a temple to all the Gods. It makes sense given that space in the High Hold arcs is limited. If they put in a temple for every God, there wouldn’t be any training space left for the guards.

As I step inside and am hit by a blast of light from the stained-glass windows, I see a figure seated a few rows ahead. I don’t want to disturb someone’s prayer by wandering around searching for doors, so I hover, unsure if I should stay. But just as I go to leave, the praying man stands and turns to exit himself.

‘Commander Zelle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ I murmur, voice low in deference to our location.

‘You’re not. I was just leaving,’ he says gruffly as he walks towards me.

My body tenses, recalling the thinly veiled threats from Holden in the cave. Does Zelle also want me dead? If he does, then now, alone in a temple with no witnesses, would be a perfect time. I shift back, offering him a clear route through to the door, yet as he reaches me, he stops. My heart squeezes as he tilts his head to the side, studying me. I do my best to ignore the row of blades strapped to his belt, any of which could run me through within a heartbeat. ‘You’re Elyas and Reeva’s daughter, aren’t you?’

Hearing their first names spoken aloud causes a throbbing in my chest I couldn’t have anticipated. He is the first one to call them by name, rather than a spat Kultavaris.

‘You knew my parents?’ I ask.

‘I did. I’m sorry to hear they passed. And for what happened before.’

The throb transforms as my back molars grind together. Such a simple phrase for the utter destruction of my family.

I change the subject. ‘I was told there was a route to the library through here. I was hoping I could visit.’

Zelle smiles, a small but knowing twist of his lips, as he dips his chin in a nod.

‘Yes, beside the altar to Aitara. But I hope I will see you in the battle yard soon. Come early enough and we can have some training time alone,’ he proposes casually.

It’s an extraordinary offer, and I find myself gaping at him.

‘Your parents were phenomenal fighters. And good people. I’m sure they taught you well.’

‘When they were able to,’ I respond truthfully.

Again, he offers another of those smiles, as if he understands everything I’m not saying. ‘Well, I will leave you to your books. See you soon, Lady Kultavaris.’

He walks out, leaving me staring after him. I am no lady, not anymore, and he knows it. What does his use of my former title mean?

Is it possible that someone else in High Hold agrees that what happened to us was unjust? That I might have another ally or, at least, not another enemy? The thought is strangely comforting.

The moment he is out the door, I head to the altar of Aitara, marked with seven stars – one for her and six for her children. If I had the skill, I’d have drawn stars, rather than dots, on my face for her mark, as they do at weddings. For now, I offer her a brief prayer of thanks before continuing around the altar to where, just like Zelle said, there is a door. A smile forms on my lips.