Bert grunted. I took that as a yes.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Hunter shift his weight and run a hand up the back of his hair as if uncomfortable. Something clicked, and I said, “Hilda also said you could pay him for bringing me here.”
Hunter threw me an apologetic look.
Bert sighed and threw down the blanket he’d been knitting. Mumbling to himself, he stood and reached into his apron’s pocket to draw out a set of keys. He stomped over to the cupboard in the right-hand corner, slotted the key in, and opened a drawer. A jangling of coins followed.
Bert turned and banged the drawer closed with his hip. Arms swinging, he walked over and handed Hunter a pouch of money. “That should be everything. Over there’s a red book.” He jabbed his sausage-thumb at the table behind him. “Sign yer name and amount received.” Bert lumbered back to his armchair.
Hunter quickly tucked the money into some inner pocket of his leathers and strode over to the table to put pen to paper. His shoulders knotted and hunched up. Not for the first time, I wondered what was going on inside his head.
Someone called out behind me, distracting me. “Merry meet!”
It was a musical voice with soft notes underneath. I turned to see a girl about my age with masses of flaming, springy strawberry curls. She was shorter than me, but had curves for days. A swift stab of envy pierced my gut, but it melted as soon as her green eyes lit up with a smile. As she moved toward me, a warm breeze rushed in, one that set my skin tingling in recognition. It smelled of grass, roses, and something sweet, like sugar-spun strawberries.
Spring meets winter, whispered the disembodied voice.
I blinked. What the rutting rats does that mean?
There was no answer, and I wondered … Maybe this wasn’t some strange, unknowable protective magic after all. Maybe I’d just gone mad from the trauma.
The red-headed girl stopped in front of me and held up a leather satchel. A swirling floral tattoo decorated her left hand. I’d seen nothing like it before. Sure, girls in Tunnock had sometimes worn makeup, but tattoos? Never. “You must be Serena. Bert told me you’d need supplies.”
“Apparently,” I mumbled.
Liora’s heart-shaped face shone with another swift grin. “Well, I’ve signed out everything you’ll need, including two sets of our oh-so-stylish uniform.”
She gestured down to her body. She wore thick black leggings tucked into heavy-duty boots, a long-sleeved top, and a thin black jacket.
“How did you know my sizing?” I asked.
“Bert said you were tall and thin, and there aren’t many sizes to choose from,” she said brightly. “I’ve also brought along a few different boots to try. We’ll use Bert’s back room so you can change.”
“Oh, will ye now?” Bert grunted.
I looked over to see his eyelids drooping. My instincts told me we’d interrupted his afternoon nap. The sound of shuffling wings snapped my attention back to Hunter, who’d moved next to my shoulder.
“This is Hunter.” I motioned to him.
“Ah.” The warmth in Liora’s voice dipped. “You’re from the Wild Hunt?”
Hunter didn’t get to answer, because Bert chose that moment to grumble, “Liora, get a move on. I’d like my house back sometime today.”
“Of course, Bertie.” Her voice overflowing with mirth, she added, “This way, Serena.”
She led me through one of the back doors. I walked through to find a jumble of assorted junk; a brass bed frame in the corner; piles of books on the floor; and several trunks splayed open to reveal stubs of candles, jam jars, and countless sweet wrappers that were lovingly grouped together according to color.
I was speechless.
Liora’s laugh was like a river rushing to the sea, spirited and musical. “I’m guessing you don’t know much about ogres?”
I shook my head slowly, mouth slightly agape.
“They’re consummate hoarders,” she said with a broad grin. “Bert even has books stacked in his bathtub.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I wasn’t even aware ogres had baths.”
“Ha! Well, I haven’t met many, but Bert’s one in a million. Anyway, d’you want to change out of that dress? If you leave it, I can come back later and pop it in the laundry.”
“I wouldn’t bother.” I touched the layer of wool gingerly. “Just burn it. Nothing’s getting rid of these stains.”
My face burned in shame, but there was no judgment in her voice when Liora said, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
Desperate to hide my creeping blush, I ducked and went to open the satchel she’d brought for me. Liora talked while I peered inside. “I’ve packed everything recruits receive on arrival. Towels, soap, a jar of paste for your teeth, medical kit, a water flask, and your uniform. Plus, a spare set of everything, some gloves, and a cloak. Also, try not to lose any of your clothing. If you do, the punishment is horrendous.”
Alarmed, my eyes found hers. “Why? What is it?”
Images of torture devices ran through my head.
“Kitchen duty.” She grimaced.
I loosened a breath, a note of hysteria lingering. That was nothing.
“I also packed undergarments. Sorry if you wanted to do that yourself.”
“It’s fine.” And still, I flushed deeper.
I dragged out the clothes that resembled Liora’s, along with three pairs of boots. I straightened, but I hesitated before lifting up my skirts. Liora instantly turned her back, giving me privacy.
I breathed a sigh of relief. No one had seen me naked since I was a babe, and I didn’t want to start now. Although, things were obviously different for women here. They wore pants and trained alongside men for the battlefield. I wouldn’t have the luxury of being squeamish about such things. I’d have to adapt.
Not today though. I’d start tomorrow.
The soiled dress came up over my head, and my skin sang when released from the heavy, stinking wool. I chucked it into the corner of the room, glad to be rid of it. My tattered boots, shift, and undergarments followed. I was divesting myself of every thread of my old life. Still, it became painfully obvious as I stepped into new black pants and a bandage-like bra that a change of clothes wouldn’t help with the thin layer of grime coating my skin.
“D’you think it’d be possible to clean up somewhere soon? I haven’t had a proper wash in … well, it’s been a while.”
My face burned as I pulled on the leggings.
Liora murmured, “Of course. I daresay you haven’t had much opportunity; the Hunt isn’t famous for its kindness.”
Pity, and maybe even disgust, rang out in her voice. I wondered if Hunter could hear her. Probably. I didn’t see the point in contradicting her for his sake, not when she was right.
The socks came next, and then the v-necked top and the jacket which had a scrap of cloth with my name hastily stitched inside. “These name tags—are they so we don’t lose anything?”
“Yup.” Liora’s head bobbed, and I felt another low twist in my gut as her shining strawberry locks bounced along. “Without the tags, we’d get nothing back from the laundry.”
“You can turn around now.”
She spun just as I tried shoving my feet into a pair of ill-fitting boots. I kicked them off and went for a larger size. They fitted well enough, so I tied the laces and straightened back up.
Liora gave me a swift nod of approval. “We’ll leave the dress and the shoes. Bert won’t mind. I’ll take you to the baths now, and then we can go to the food hall. We’ll probably be late, but I’ll figure something out. You shouldn’t go to bed hungry in a place like this.”
My stomach cramped—gods, I was starving.
“Plus, my brother’s been dying to meet you. Unless you don’t want me to introduce you?”
A concerned pause. Instinct told me she wouldn’t mind if I refused.
I played for time. “Why would he want to meet me?”