Thirteen kicked her chair, heel snapping a leg in half.
“Lady Emerald gave you an order,” a rough voice said. Heavy footsteps muffled by the sound of shifting leather armor crept behind me. A pale purple mask—eyes missing, mouth one severe line—glinted in the corner of my sight. “Take it.”
Thirteen scrambled out of the hall.
“Unless anyone else would like to disobey, we’ll go over the nuances of your new, brief lives.” Emerald tilted her chin up, looking for questions in the absence of us seeing her face. We kept quiet. “Whoever you were yesterday is dead. Your lives are ours now, until you are either dead or dismissed. Since we are selecting a new member of the court, there are additional rules you must follow. If you break them, I will kill you.”
“We eat breakfast together.” Ruby poured a cup of tea and held it out to Amethyst. “We do not attempt to kill each other or anyone else during this time. Breakfast is our time. You finish your business before or after. We always dine together in the mornings, and we’d like for you to learn how to be sociable morning people.”
Emerald slid a thick pat of butter into the center of a dark roll, stuffed shaved ham in after it, and stood. A southerner’s breakfast. Interesting thing to pick when your mask had no opening for the mouth. “We will hold physical training sessions all day, every day. You need not attend if you feel adequately masterful, but do remember we are watching. One of you will be Our Queen’s new Opal, and we cannot afford mediocrity.”
“So eat well and relax.” Amethyst gestured to the spread of food across the table.
“This morning, we will evaluate you separately. Every other morning until we say otherwise, you are expected to play nicely until training starts.” Ruby stood, beckoning a servant with a bloodred collar, and waved halfheartedly to the table. “You will do best if you remember this is a test and we are the overseers.”
Emerald picked up her plate and vanished through a side door. Amethyst followed and Ruby’s servant slipped through the door ahead of him. Ruby spared us one last glance over his shoulder.
“A word of advice—don’t be predictable. From this day on, predictability will kill you,” Ruby said. “We’ll start with Two.”
Two rose to her feet as graceful as any dancer and took a deep breath. Three and Four watched her go.
How were we supposed to stay unpredictable if they had us in timed lessons all day?
“A long night, a longer morning.” Four eyed the rest of the table over his cup of tea. “Testing our patience perhaps.”
I poured myself a cup—flowery and light, much softer on my tongue than I was used to—and ignored his questioning gaze. Observations, studying your mark, knowing when to make your move. Only difference between robbery and murder was what you stole.
“Tea’s too gentle,” Three muttered to Four. “You’d think if anyone deserved a pick-me-up, it’d be us.”
I grinned. The southwestern coast of Alona was famous for its stronger teas, and it was Rath’s one true indulgence.
Four shrugged. “Not enough of us here to warrant it.”
I pulled my plate toward me. The table was spread with enough food for an army troop. They’d laid it out to appeal to anyone, and everyone was taking advantage. Five drizzled oil over a piece of toast layered with tomatoes and minced garlic, and seven others followed his lead, reaching for the common breakfast of northerners. I’d never gotten a taste for tomatoes before noon.
But they had, and now I knew where they were from.
“Didn’t realize there was an us,” I said in Erlenian. The languages were so close they might as well have been the same except for a dozen handfuls of odd words and phrases. They had been the same once, but politics had pushed them apart. I dropped a piece of thin bread on my plate, drowned it in oil and garlic, and slid a tomato slice on top. Least I could save myself from the tasteless muck of tomatoes by adding garlic. “You’re awful chatty for someone in a competition to the death.”
I’d give them no hints about who I was or where I was from, not like the hints they were giving me. I’d no runes and no striking features, only warm umber skin and a handful of scars. I’d nothing left for them to take, no friends and no family, other than my place as Opal.
And it was mine.
Four offered me another tomato. “While the bells were a lovely touch, you’re too short to put any fear in me. Nothing personal.”
I speared the tomato with my knife.
“Three!”
We all turned to the door. Two glided into the room with her fists clenched and mask askew. She whispered to Three as they passed.
We sat in silence after that. Only the scrape of knives against plates and the rattle of spoons in cups broke the quiet. Five crunched his way through his toast, half-listening to Eight and Seven whispering back and forth. The split between Erlend and Alona had changed more than the languages. Five was the image of an arrogant northern lord, all splayed limbs and cocked head, taking up a good hand’s width of Two’s spot at the table.
Three returned, and Two knocked Five out of her space in her haste to pull out Three’s chair. Four left, returned, and then Five, Six, another and another. Each private meeting lasted long enough to let me settle before the red-collared servant shouted the next number. I twisted the ring round and round my finger, rubbing the sigil with my thumb, and breakfast rebelled in my stomach. Five had sword work callouses and a fancy gold necklace shoved under his collar. An apothecary sigil covered Eleven’s slender shoulder. Eight walked with the telltale gait of someone with a knife in his boot. But I was skilled and worrying wouldn’t help.
“Twenty-Three!”
I rose, rolling my shoulders back, and took long, steady strides to the door.
Let the audition begin.
Eight
Amethyst’s mask was lopsided when I entered, the dusky ribbons loose around her head and barely knotted. Emerald flicked her fingers to get my attention. I sat in the lone chair.
“I can see your first problem.” Emerald leaned across the couch and rested her chin on long crooked fingers. “You’re far too underfed.”
“Not uncommon for uninvited auditioners.” Ruby peered at me through his eyeless mask, and the sting of it burned the tips of my ears. Up close, I could tell there was a thin mesh—soft metal or cloth—painted to match the red covering where his eyes would be. He tilted his head to the side. “Twenty-Three, Sal, Sal, Sal, brought the hand of Grell da Sousa. Knife work was sloppy but willing to practice.”
Amethyst chuckled. “Grell da Sousa? The old street fighter in Kursk?”
“One and only.” I nodded, spreading out the hem of my dress so I was sitting like Emerald—taking up space and showing off what muscles I had but not splayed out like Five had been.
“What do you do?” Emerald studied my feet and worked her way up to my face. She corrected my posture till my spine was straight as hers. “You look like a runner.”