“The king likes to keep the contestants completely isolated for the first couple of days,” he says stiffly. “But, good news, you’ll be having dinner tonight with the other contestants, along with the king and queen.”
I swallow. After forty-eight restless hours, I’m suddenly going to meet the contestants that have plagued my thoughts, and the king who has plagued my nightmares.
“I’ll be back shortly to escort you to dinner,” Lenny says, turning towards the door. “If you need anything, just holler. I won’t be far. Oh,” he glances at me over his shoulder, “and you might want to change before dinner.”
When he’s gone, I slip into the bathroom and fiddle with the various knobs on the tub until hot, steaming water begins pouring out. Within minutes, I’m stripped and soaking in the now foamy water, thanks to the unnecessary amount of soaps and salts I dumped in. I scrub my hair and body vigorously, leaving my skin red and refreshed.
I haven’t felt so clean in years.
My mind wanders to my many worries, the warm water doing little to soothe me. The Trials consume my thoughts, reminding me of the power I lack and the little protection I possess. Not to mention that if the Trials don’t kill me, being discovered as an Ordinary most definitely will.
I soak in the bubbly water until it grows cold like the baths I’m so used to. When I finally muster the strength to force myself out of the tub, I’m shivering as I slip on a silk, green robe.
I make my way back into my room, opening the white doors of the giant wardrobe across from my bed to stare at the dozens of colors and patterns, all hung neatly on a rack. Attire for every type of occasion is casually hanging there, all at my disposal.
Adena would die if she saw this.
I stare blankly at the clothes, then down at my ratty ones lying forgotten on the floor. I haven’t the slightest idea of what is appropriate to wear to this dinner and I would rather not make a fool out of myself before the Trials have even begun.
Remembering that Lenny said to holler if I needed anything, I intend to do just that. I’m sure the Imperial has witnessed several of these meals and will have some idea of what the expected attire is.
I stride to the door and wrench it open, looking down as I tighten the tie of my robe. I do, in fact, holler, “Lenny, what the hell am I supposed to wear—”
And then I look up.
My eyes meet wide, bright green ones. I’ve never seen the man standing before me; I would have remembered. His messy, dirty blond hair looks slightly damp as if he too just got out of the bath. He has simultaneously strong, yet delicate features, with his straight nose and soft lips. His hand is raised, still posed to knock on my door.
He recovers faster than I do. “Wardrobe problems?” His mouth twists into a playful grin, and something about it seems so familiar, and yet, not at all.
“Clearly,” I say with a small smile. His eyes quickly sweep over me, and only then do I remember that I’m wearing a robe. I pull it tighter around myself, fighting my flush.
He clears his throat. “Well, no need to worry. Your maid, Ellie, will be in soon to help you dress and prepare for dinner.”
He speaks with an air of authority, as though he is used to giving orders. Despite his plain clothes—slim black trousers and a tighter, green shirt that shows off his lean figure—I know right away that this man is no servant.
A contestant?
At the thought of having a maid wait on me, I quickly say, “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself, thank you.”
His gaze travels from my still dripping and tangled hair to the silk robe I clutch closed. “Clearly,” he says, mimicking my response to him only moments ago with that oddly familiar grin on his face.
I look down at myself and nearly laugh. “Okay, perhaps a maid will be necessary after all.”
He laughs softly before gesturing to the room behind me. “I just stopped by to see if everything was adequate?”
I find myself almost laughing once again. “If this is adequate, I can’t even imagine what is considered exquisite around here.”
His eyes search mine. “Then remind me to show you the gardens sometime.” He offers me a nod. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner, Paedyn.”
I blink at him.
“Strange,” I say slowly. “I don’t remember telling you my name.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to.” That crooked grin is teasing his lips once again. “I make it my business to know all the pretty girls who save my little brother.”
Plagues, he’s—
“I’m Kitt by the way.” He flashes me a grin before turning to stride down the hallway, leaving me shocked and staring.
Prince Kitt. As in ‘future king of Ilya’ Kitt.
What is it with me running into royals?
I had never seen the future king before, and I’d definitely never thought I’d meet him in a robe. He’s the heir to the throne, the next ruler who is ready to follow in his vile father’s footsteps. Between him and his brother—
His brother.
That’s why his smile looked so familiar.
I’ve seen a variation of it on the other prince’s face, though Kitt’s was bright and boyish while Kai’s was cockier, colder.
I watch as a small, dark-haired girl steps shyly up to my room with a timid smile tipping her lips. “Good evening, miss. I’ll be your maid while you’re here at the palace, and I’ll assist you with anything you may need.” Her voice is soft and delicate, but her rehearsed words are steady.
“Please, call me Paedyn.” She looks at me wearily, but I press on. “Plagues, a few hours ago I was sleeping in some garbage, so trust me when I say you shouldn’t call me miss.”
She fights a laugh at that, nodding slowly in agreement. “Great,” I sigh, “now that that’s settled, can you help me figure out what it is I’m supposed to wear tonight?”
She smiles shyly at me, looking relieved. “That, I think I can help with.”
We spend the next half hour filtering through outfits before settling on something relatively plain by the palace’s standards, though it’s still the nicest thing I’ve ever worn.
With half the wardrobe emptied onto the floor, we’ve decided on a pair of shiny black leggings paired with a silky, dark green blouse. It’s relatively low with drooping sleeves I already know will be accidentally dipped in food. I slip a small dagger into the back band of my pants, and the flat blade against my back is cool and comforting.
After lacing up high boots, Ellie motions me over to the vanity where she begins playing with my hair, trying to make the damp mop look presentable. “So, mi—” She clears her throat and tries again. “So, Paedyn,” she emphasizes my name with a small smile, “do you have any idea what the Trials will be like?”
“Not a clue.” I give her a pleading smile through the mirror. “I was hoping you would, though, seeing that I’m sure you overhear a lot in the palace?”
Her next words are little more than a murmur. “All I know is that this year is supposed to be...different.”
“Different?” I echo. “In what way?”