Chapter 9

9

Ella

I tore my eyes from the dangling corpse as applicants shoved past me. The sun had set, and there was a lot of confusion in the dim courtyard, but the crowd was beginning to organize into five groups.

Cara took my hand and pulled me along. "They interview us by occupation. The first line is for the armorers and blacksmiths. Next are the groundskeepers and animal handlers, followed by the entertainers, artists, healers, and the like, then the kitchen staff, and finally the household staff, which includes tailors, laundresses, maids, and servants. You'll probably want to join the last line with me."

"Hope to see you both on the inside," Teagan said. His eyes lingered on Cara for a moment, and then he slipped through the crowd toward the first line, where the armorers and blacksmiths were queued.

"Good luck!" Cara said, then guided me through the crowd toward the last line. It was by far the longest, and we were nearly the last to find spots as a handful of remaining applicants filtered into the courtyard and organized themselves.

A hushed silence fell as a woman strode out of a broad, arched entrance and onto the gallery. My eyes widened. Her clothes were more vibrant than the sun itself, and her chestnut hair was mounded in elaborate curls. Stacks of jeweled bangles wrapped around her arms, and her shoes were as red and glistening as fresh blood. I didn't know whether to be amazed or horrified. I'd never imagined clothes like that in my wildest dreams.

I wasn't the only one. A low muttering went through the crowd.

She seemed to bask in the glow of adoration, and then, with an elaborate flourish, she silenced us all by holding up a single finger. It suddenly felt like we were hanging on threads, and she was the puppeteer.

A gust of wind swirled through the courtyard, and dozens of torches along the walls burst alight, their flames licking high up the stones before settling into a steady flicker.

There were gasps of awe and surprise, and a murmur of astonishment spread.

"How did she do that?" I asked, my eyes still wide with wonder. The torches were mounted onto the outside of the stone wall, so no one could have lit them from inside the castle.

"Magic," Cara replied as I fought the urge to walk up to the closest torch and inspect it.

Magic? The only magic I knew of was the simple tricks performed by gleemen at the local fair and the dark sorcery that the town's relentlessly tiresome priests warned us about. Magic was only ever the work of demons, they claimed.

I could almost believe it. The immortals were as close to demons as a creature could get.

Silence fell again as the high lady lowered her hand and spoke. "Welcome to Castle Silverthorn," she said in a high, resonating voice that made my ears hurt. "I anticipate your stay shall be brief, as we are looking for servants fit for a king, not lazy peasants and fools looking for an easy wage."

Easy wage? I almost laughed. Everyone knew how hard it was to work in the castle. If we weren't desperate, we wouldn't be here.

She strode to the side and turned to face us again. "Let me set the rules. You will each be judged by the royal chamberlain herself. If the skills you possess are deemed worthy and fit for the castle's needs, you will be given a token—though I'm certain most of you will be found gravely wanting."

There were more murmurs, but she silenced them by raising a bronze coin high and letting her withering gaze drift over the crowd. "If you do not receive a royal token, you shall leave the castle grounds immediately . If you question the chamberlain's judgement or try to steal a token from another, you will meet a swift and bloody death." She smiled, displaying her fangs in delight. "Or a slow one, if you are particularly irksome."

My palms grew clammy.

No questions. No negotiation. Just one shot. I either passed or I didn't.

A second woman appeared on the gallery. Her blonde hair was swept back in a neat bun, and she wore an elegant gray gown with a gold watch piece hanging from a chain attached to the belt around her waist. While there was something similar about their faces, the first was like a sadistic minstrel, while this woman wielded an air of authority like a shield.

"Turn and face forward so that the chamberlain may inspect you," the brightly dressed woman said. "When she passes, you will tell her what special skill you have that makes you qualified to work in the castle. If you have no skills, please leave now and save us the trouble of evicting you."

Doubt gnawed at me.

Dealing with my stepmother was a skill few had mastered, but I doubted that would count for much here. Or alternatively, maybe it made me uniquely qualified to navigate the court. I could imagine these women would make equally cruel mistresses.

The image of Belle locked away in some lord's suite, forced to pay the blood tithe or worse, made my palms sweat.

I wouldn't fail her. I couldn't.

The chamberlain began with the first line, walking slowly past each applicant as they rambled off their skills. She interrupted most after they'd spoken only a few words, her voice sharp and cruel, like a knife pulled across a whetstone. She berated some and simply waved others off dismissively.

She handed a token to a middle-aged man who excelled at restoring antique metalware but sharply rebuked a goldsmith who specialized in filigree jewelry. Several applicants broke down in tears, but most hurried away and out through the castle gates.

The girl with auburn hair protested as she was passed over. The chamberlain spun and backhanded her across the face with inhuman force, sending the girl sprawling onto the cobblestones. Two guards stepped forward, spears lowered. "Get out," the chamberlain said to her, then turned to face the rest of us. "This is your only warning."

My stomach knotted as the auburn-haired girl rose and hobbled away, her face bruised and bloody.

The chamberlain moved on to the next line, having only selected a handful of individuals—and Teagan wasn't among them.

I wasn't sure why he was seeking a job, but like Cara, I assumed everyone here was desperate enough to risk working beneath the heels of the bloodsuckers.

I resisted the urge to reach into my handbag and give my small stowaway a scratch to soothe my nerves. Pip was close, and that was what mattered.

By the time the chamberlain reached our line, only nine applicants had been selected out of the hundreds she'd passed by.

My throat felt dry as the gray specter of a woman paused in front of Cara, scowling. "Your skill?"

Cara curtsied and said, "I make dresses for all occasions, my lady, but I specialize in gowns."

I watched the chamberlain out of the corner of my eye as she scrutinized Cara from head to toe. "Did you make your dress?"

"Yes, my lady." She held out the one she'd brought, letting it fall open in a flutter of green. "And I finished this one yesterday."

"I see." The bloodsucker regarded it for a long moment with apathy, and my stomach knotted for my new friend. The chamberlain turned to continue on, then paused and disdainfully dropped a bronze token in Cara's palm, as if she were being forced to give pennies to a beggar.

Cara's face beamed, regardless of her treatment.

My heart swelled with relief, then descended back into dread as the chamberlain stepped in front of me. I didn't have anything like Cara's brilliant green dress to display.

My gaze darted to the chamberlain's dress, searching for the pockets or pouch where she stored the tokens, then finding nothing, I met her withering gaze. Despite her callous demeanor, she was exceptionally pretty with her full lips and high cheekbones. She was like a belladonna—beautiful but poisonous.

She narrowed her hazel eyes suspiciously as she inspected me. "Is there something wrong with your head, girl?"

I blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Why is your head covered in that filthy rag?"

Rag? It had been my mother's satin scarf, and it was far from a rag. It was one of the most beautiful things I owned.

I reached up to touch it. "I?—"

With a whiplike motion, she yanked it off my head and let it drop into the mud.

Shock paralyzed me, and disapproving whispers rose on the light wind. The girl at the end of our line gasped and took a few steps back. " Witch ."

I closed my eyes briefly as I tamped down my frustration. This was why I avoided coming into the village. My silver hair was unusual, and people didn't like unusual, even though they lived alongside immortal blood-drinking monsters.

The irony of it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Cara gave the girl the evil eye, but I just straightened my spine, despite the sting of their judgement. Let them all look.

The chamberlain's lips twitched, but her gaze didn't lift or indicate revulsion. "And do you have a skill, girl?"

I raised my chin, summoning all the confidence I could muster. "I run my family's manor. I'm a fast learner, and I'll work harder than anyone else. I can cook, clean, and tend to the stables."

She eyed me for a moment longer, then moved to the girl who'd called me a witch. My heart strained against my chest. I couldn't fail.

The auburn-haired girl's bloody face burning in my mind, I shoved down my fear and stepped out of line. I'd taken beatings before. I could do it again if it meant finding my sister. "Please," I begged, "I'll excel at any task you assign. Just give me a chance."

"You're not chosen," the chamberlain snapped. "The last girl who questioned me walked out. I assure you, you won't be so lucky—but go ahead and linger. I'm sure we'd all like a little entertainment after such a dull day."

The clicking of hooves rose in the courtyard, tearing her attention away, and perhaps sparing me a savage beating. The three lords I'd seen earlier rode in and dismounted, passing their horses to a stable hand.

The chamberlain moved to the next applicant, having already forgotten about me.

Despair lodged in my chest.

"Go home, Ella," Cara pleaded quietly, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's not worth your life. You can try again next time, like I did."

There wouldn't be a next time. Belle needed me now, but what else could I do? If the chamberlain and her guards left me maimed, I'd be of no use to her or the resistance.

Numb, I retrieved my muddy scarf and stepped out of line. It felt like I was stepping off the top of a cliff and falling to the ground below. I headed for the gate in a daze, passing in front of the three lords. Two were eyeing the fresh recruits with interest, but the third was watching me with relentless attention.

It was the blond rider from the forest last night. A flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes.

Oh, hell.

Did he know what I'd done?

The butcher's words played on a loop in my mind: To harm one of the immortals is a death sentence.

Suddenly, finding a job was the least of my worries. Adrenaline pumping, I hurried toward the gate with his gaze burning the skin from my neck. I kept my eyes trained on the ground. All I have to do is get out of here with my head still attached to my neck.

I was almost through when the ground shook and another rider thundered through the gate in front of me. I leapt back as the monstrous stallion's hooves skidded across the smooth paving stones, and its front legs lifted into the air just in front of me as it came to an uneasy stop.

Fear froze me as the creature's hooves crashed back down.

On its back sat the dark rider, with his raven hair and steely eyes.

He pulled his horse around and glared down at me with a mix of anger and disdain. "Do you have a death wish, foolish woman?"

And then his face hardened with the certainty of recognition. Shit.

Clutching my scarf, I slipped around the horse and hurried toward the exit.

In a flash, he dismounted from the stallion and cut off my escape. "You."

The torchlight accentuated the angles of his face, and his eyes…Fates. They were the hue of stormy skies and just as violent. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Applying to serve, my lord," I said, fumbling out a low curtsy at last. It was more than I'd done in the woods.

His imperious gaze burned through me, unraveling me layer by layer. "Were you hired?"

I swallowed. "No."

He stalked slowly around me like a circling wolf searching for the right moment to strike. At last, he seemed to reach some kind of decision. "Perhaps that's for the best."

The lord turned his back and walked away, leaving me as empty as the hollowed-out old oak.

Then the emptiness was replaced by rage. My opportunity had fallen from my lap, and I stood there, struck dumb like a cow-eyed farm girl.

I looked around the courtyard desperately, searching for anything I could do. The court and applicants were all watching the high lord, melting away from him as he strode toward the back of the castle.

I'd already been forgotten. Invisible, as I had always been.

Yet one pair of eyes remained fixed on me. The high lord's black stallion had paused to look back, defying his handlers with a jerk of its lead. There was something unnatural about his attention, as if he were judging me, just like all the others had.

For a second, I felt a deep, inexplicable connection with the beast. A silent understanding.

Then, with a sudden burst of fury, the black warhorse reared on his hind legs and gave an ear-splitting whinny, yanking his handler clean off his feet. He slammed his hooves down with a snort, and then, tearing free, bolted across the courtyard.

Courtiers and applicants dove away, knocking each other down as he charged through the group. The blond-haired lord lunged forward, grasping for his reins, but that only further agitated the stallion. His hooves clattered against the cobblestones as he circled the courtyard and galloped for the gate, with only me standing between him and freedom. His handlers charged, but he spun and kicked his legs out, driving them back. He looked like he was ready to vault over me to get to freedom.

The world fell away, and instinct kicked in. My sole concern became the stallion.

"Easy, handsome," I said as I stepped forward slowly with my arm raised, as I would when calming my stepmother's mares. The stallion neighed and slowed, and his ears pricked forward.

Had I been the one who'd spooked him? Why had he looked at me like that?

As the others warily hung back, I closed the distance, heart drumming. One kick could break my leg or cave in my chest. "That's a good boy. I'm not going to harm you. Nobody's going to harm you."

He watched me with ferocious eyes, and then, seemingly satisfied that I wasn't a threat, he exhaled loudly and lowered his head and walked forward. I placed my hand on his neck and stroked him firmly. A low gasp rose from the crowd, but I paid it little heed, my attention focused solely on the horse. His coat was hot and damp with sweat, and he smelled like the woods. He looked back at me and sniffed my arm.

I smiled at the magnificent creature. "I'm Ella. It's nice to meet you."

The stallion gave a soft, almost self-satisfied snort.

The silence of the courtyard was suddenly deafening. I felt them all watching me.

I felt the dark rider watching me.

The stallion had to be worth more than our entire manor. A dozen manors. And it was being handled by a peasant girl. Touching it was probably another executable offense, like me taking the queen mother's crown and plopping it on my head.

Return the horse. Avoid eye contact with the angry bloodsucker. Leave with your life.

I gently led the stallion back toward the groomsman he'd knocked down, keeping my eyes low. The man's face was pale, and he said nothing as he took the reins.

With the beast out of the way, the chamberlain strode forward, her face livid and taut with disgust. "How dare you the touch the?—"

The dark rider threw up his hand to silence her and approached like a wave of midnight crashing down on me.

My throat tightened, and I took a step back. Gods, he was tall. And broad.

Tension zinged the air between us, and I met his scalding gaze. His dark hair was tousled from his ride, and the five-o'clock shadow on his jaw made my stomach flip for reasons I didn't understand.

He tilted his head. "How did you calm Tenebris like that?"

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to strangle my nerves. "I—I've a knack for animals."

"That's a warhorse, not a peasant's mare or beast of burden," he said in a low voice rumbling with threat. "Yet you know some trick his handlers do not?"

My heart felt like it was going to break free of my chest. This could be my chance or a trap. "I don't know," I said. "But if he does this often, you might give him some oats mixed with a few drops of chamomile at night."

There was a low murmur.

" I ," he said with an incredulous growl, "might?"

"The stablemaster, I mean, my lord." I dipped low, suddenly remembering my station. Even though I hadn't fully tightened my corset, I struggled to breathe as I faced him. "I beg your forgiveness, I'd just very much like to leave in one piece."

"You will stay," he said roughly, studying my hair.

I didn't even know how to respond. All I'd wanted was a chance to work in the castle, but that now meant being trapped here with him . With all of them.

I looked around at the courtiers. They were staring at me, and none of their expressions were kind or welcoming. Some stared with disgust, others anger, and some with an almost hungry interest.

They were all predators, and I'd just been placed on the menu.

A muscle in the lord's jaw twitched as he gave me one final displeased look, and then he turned and walked back toward the grand stairway. "Find her a suitable position, Lorayna."

Fury flickered across the chamberlain's face, but she bowed her head. "Yes, Your Royal Highness."

The blood drained from my head, and dizziness tunneled my vision.

Your Royal Highness?

The night air pressed in on me, suffocating and thick, as he disappeared. It all made sense now—the way they danced around him, cowering and deferring.

The dark rider was Prince Cassius, the Fates-damned Lord of the Bloodvale…and I'd just told him to feed his horse oats like he was a stableboy. I was certain he'd slaughtered people for less, yet miraculously, he'd let me live.