Perhaps, if she passed her Trial, he would make it four times.
“Just play up to the crowd for one day. Do what they want, when tomorrow comes you can do whatever you damn well please.”
Tempest said nothing. She knew Dima was right, of course, but having anyone tell her how to act or look grated on her nerves to no end. “I don’t care that I’m the first woman vying for a position in the Hounds. It’s all a means to an end. All I care about is—”
“Avenging your mother,” Dima cut in, not unkindly. “I know, Tempest, I know. But you’re an adult now, and, with that, comes responsibilities—such as doing what the king wants you to do.”
“He doesn’t even want me to be a Hound.” Tempest knew she was right; the monarch had made no attempt to hide his dislike of her. Her outfit solidified her suspicions.
“Then prove him wrong—show him that women belong in our ranks. Actions speak louder than words, as well as you know.”
Tempest’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. She turned her head to face Dima. “Is that why I still have a bruise on the back of my leg?”
“You didn’t heed my advice to guard your back so, yes, I’d say that’s why.”
“I don’t have any openings now, I’m sure of it.”
Dima rolled his eyes and swung off the fence. “There’s more to life than fighting, you know. You say you’re here to avenge your mother. What will you do once you achieve that?”
Tempest didn’t reply, and Dima merely sighed.
“You will make a fine Hound—we all know that. Just consider whether it’s actually what you want to do with your life.”
Tempest mulled over his words long after he was gone. In truth, she had no idea what she wanted to do outside of this one, all-consuming goal. She’d never thought she needed another one. I guess Dima is right, she finally concluded. At some point I may want more than revenge. But, for now, it’s more than enough.
“Well somebody looks awfully angry,” came an airy, sing-song voice—the kind of voice that belonged to somebody who’d already been up for hours and was wide awake.
Tempest grinned. “Morning, Juniper. Your shift must be over soon—the sun is in the sky!”
“It’s over now,” her best friend replied, snowy-white hair puffing out around her shoulders as she collapsed against the fence, uncaring of getting dust and dirt upon her dress. Juniper looked at Tempest perched above her, before pulling out a cloth-wrapped package and proffering it to her. “Here. Breakfast. I imagined you wouldn’t be able to stomach typical barracks food today so I pilfered you some goods from the palace.”
“Dotae be good, I love you,” Tempest cried in delight, opening the package to reveal freshly baked, flaky pastries, still warm to the touch. Two of them were savory, two of them sweet; Tempest tore into one filled with cinnamon and vanilla first, her nausea instantly forgotten in the wake of her favorite food being hand-delivered to her.
Juniper giggled at her friend’s shameless display of happiness. “Feeling better now? You looked about ready to murder someone, and your Trial doesn’t even start for another three hours!”
“Much better, thanks.” Tempest’s words were muffled and warped around mouthfuls of pastry, but she didn’t care. With a supreme effort, she swallowed down the overly large bite she had taken. “I was just thinking about my mum’s death.”
“Hence the expression. Did you have that dream again?” Her friend gazed at her with concern.
She nodded.
Juniper knew everything Tempest could remember of her past; she was one of her very few female friends. Though the girl was a shifter—which initially set Tempest’s teeth on edge as a child—Juniper was gentle and soft-spoken and never judged Tempest for her crass, uncultured way of living, unlike how the ladies of the court often did. Her shifted form was an owl, hence her working at nights in the palace. The two often spent twilight and sunrise together—the beginning of one of their days, and the end of the other’s.
Juniper pointed at a pair of men jumping over the fence opposite them to enter the training yard, preparing to spar. Tempest fought back a grimace as she realized one of them was Levka, but her mood improved when she saw the other man was his father, Maxim. The monster of a man grinned at her and waved a comb in the air.
Tempest winced, knowing he had plans for her unruly hair and snarfed down the last of the pastries. Her boisterous, bawdy uncle had always been the one to braid her hair as a child. One day she’d asked him how he knew so much about women’s hair. Her nose wrinkled as she recalled the discussion that had ensured afterward. Maxim had been delighted in giving Tempest an especially colorful explanation of how men and women created children.
If only I could scrub that from my brain.
Her attention moved to his spawn. Too bad his son hated her.
She’d grown up with Levka and was only a handful of months older than him. It didn’t improve things between them that her Trial was before his. He viewed it as a huge insult to his person, least of all because he did not believe women should be Hounds in the first place. Despite the fact that Tempest had spent three or four nights a week eating dinner with Maxim’s family and that Maxim himself doted on Tempest, Levka had always refused to warm to her.
And she hated it. Things could have been so different between them if he’d only accepted her. She’d always wanted a sibling.
“You’re watching Levka as if you’d like to punch him in the face again, Tempest,” Juniper said, as if she were discussing the weather instead of impending violence.
Tempest could only laugh. “More like that’s what he thinks of me, though by his logic I’m simply too frail to take a punch to the face. I can’t wait to pass my Trial and show him I can do this just as well as he can. Better, even.”
“Oh, come now, you can’t be that blind.”
She glanced at her friend. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind that Levka definitely knows you’re better than him and it drives him insane, and that he’s jealous his dad loves you so much—”
“I’ve never done anything to keep Maxim from him. I wanted to be his friend. His anger is not my—”
“I never said it was,” Juniper interrupted her, “and that wasn’t my point, anyway. Don’t you think that he maybe likes you? As in—”
“Oh, please don’t finish that thought. For the love of Dotae do not finish that thought.” The boy had never looked at her with anything but contempt and disgust.
Juniper stared at her as if she thought Tempest was over-reacting. “It wouldn’t be impossible, you know, especially when you’re dressed like this.” She waved a hand in Tempest’s general direction and smiled approvingly. “I love the new look, by the way. Very intimidating.”
Tempest snorted. “As intimidating as a woman of the night.”
“So dramatic.” Juniper rolled her eyes. “You’ve never had time for boys before, Tempest. You’ve been so focused on becoming a Hound. But after your Trial—what next? Are you going to continue to be aloof and alone all your life? Because I know for a fact there are more than a few pairs of eyes on you, you hopeless, beautiful fool.”