It was exactly the dose of hope I needed. Everything was terrible, and the unknown yawned before me like a gaping maw of doom, but I had a friend. It was a start in the right direction.
Her hand snaked out faster than a viper as she smacked my other cheek.
"What in the fresh hell was that for?" I demanded, glaring at her.
She shrugged. "Sorry about that, but one red cheek looks like a rash. Two looks like a charming flush on your pale skin." She gave me a quick once-over, smoothed my skirts, and took my hand again. "Remember, follow my lead," she mumbled as she tugged me toward the doors.
She rapped hard on the heavy mahogany and then stood back.
Waiting.
The sting in my cheeks was forgotten as the doors swung open.
Two dozen heads turned our way and the low chatter in the room went silent.
A regal woman dressed in all black Victorian garb stepped forward. Her cheekbones were so high and sculpted, they could've cut glass. Her lush lips were painted a deep ruby red. But it was her eyes that had me mesmerized. They were like silver chips of ice, standing out in sharp relief against her dark skin. My stomach did a flip as her brow caved into a thunderous frown.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, voice like a whip-crack.
"My apologies for our tardiness, Your Grace," Bethany murmured in a rush. "You know how clumsy I can be. I tripped over my skirts and Miss Sienna, here, was kind enough to tend to me and check for swelling and all that. I humbly implore you not to punish her for my carelessness." She dipped into a deep curtsy, and squeezed my icy hand with her warm one, indicating I should do the same.
I bent one knee and mimicked the young maid's motions, my head spinning.
Had she seriously just risked her own well-being for mine? She barely knew me. Moreover, if she was to be punished because of me, I'd never forgive myself.
I needed to stay alive for many reasons, but I wasn't about to let someone else take the heat for my actions.
I straightened, opening my mouth to spill the beans, and then snapped it shut when the heel of Bethany's boot stomped on my toe. Apparently, on top of being a shockingly violent harridan, she was also a mind reader.
I swallowed a muffled curse as the Duchess swept gracefully toward us, every rise of an elegant foot revealing a splash of her red-bottomed stilettos. She stopped just a few feet away.
"Rise, child," she murmured with a sigh, the anger in her dark eyes fading to something I could only interpret as affection as she locked gazes with Bethany. "Your clumsy nature will be the end of you. I fear that someday, you'll go to air out a room, open a window, sneeze, and tumble out of it to meet your death. And then what of me, child? Who will make my cocoa exactly as I like it?"
Bethany released my hand and curtsied again.
"I know it, Your Grace. I vow to be more careful in the future."
The Duchess inclined her regal head and her crimson lips tipped into a glimmer of a smile. "You do that. And go speak to the nurse about your . . . ankle."
Interesting. She knew it had been a cover.
Bethany stepped back and spared me a glance and a surreptitious wink before bustling off, faking a limp. It took everything I had not to run after her.
"Sienna, is it, then?" the Duchess asked, studying me intently, as if I was a butterfly under a sheet of glass.
"Yes . . . Your Grace."
She clicked her tongue and tipped her head. "You're a curious one, aren't you? A challenge." She began to circle me as she continued. "Not as lean as some, but it suits you. The gods have gilded this flower, it seems. Back when I cared about the male gaze, I'd have killed for hair that color." She completed her trip and stopped in front of me, her face close enough that our noses almost touched.
I tried not to panic, but it was all I could do to keep from crumpling when she opened her mouth, fangs flashing.
She pressed her lips to my ear, and when she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "I'll give you a second chance because Bethany clearly saw something in you she thought was worth saving. But my heart isn't as soft as hers. Two strikes and you're out, no matter who purchased you. Understood?"
"Yes, Your Grace," I said, forcing the words past the knot in my throat.
With that, she stepped back and smiled.
"Shall we get on with it, then, ladies?"
My pulse still raced as she turned to face the room at large. It was only then that I even really took note of the others present. All young women, some a little older than me, but most around my age. All dressed to the nines. Every single one of them looked hella-relieved that they were standing in a pack on one side of the room and not separated from the rest of the herd like yours truly.
"Form a line."
The girls did so in a hurry and then stood, backs straight, staring straight ahead.
"Sienna, go stand over there," the Duchess commanded, pointing to the space beside a waifish blonde girl wearing a white gown as if she were headed to her own wedding and got sidetracked.
I did as instructed and then watched, motionless, as the Duchess strolled up and down the line.
"This may not be the life you imagined, but as women, we have to work with the hands we're dealt. Your time here can be as easy or as difficult as you choose to make it," she said, slowing to a stop and regarding the group as a whole. "The palace can be a wonderful place if you play your cards right. You’ll make friends, indulge in fine food and wine. We also have some of the most beautiful land in the Empire, and you are welcome to explore it in your free time, so long as you stay on this side of the eastern bridge. The rest of your time will be spent preparing for and engaging in the Harvest Games. The winners will enjoy a life most could only dream of. The losers...well, suffice it to say, that you don't want to be one. For the next eight weeks, until the blood moon, you will be on display.”
Eight weeks?
I did the math in my head as fast as I could. Fifty-six days. The first bit of luck finally turned my way. Long enough that the boat would be coming for Jordan and I the day after the Harvest Games was done.
Fecking perfect.
I turned my attention back to the Duchess.
“Your one and only task is to impress. Use your face, your form, your charms, your character...whatever you have at your disposal. Each of you was given a pendant. They are to be worn at all times. The gem within starts out clear and changes color, quite like a human mood ring might, except this gem senses bloodlust. The more you are desired and wanted by the men here in the palace, the better your chances of being selected by one of them to partner with. It is to be worn at all times and is something that I convinced the men to agree to by telling them it would be a useful tool for them to gauge their competition for each female. But, truth be told, they're not meant to help them. They're meant to help you."
She scanned the faces before her and continued, her expression somber, her voice ringing with sincerity.
"The first week will be an orientation, of sorts, as you grow accustomed to our ways and the behavior we expect in court. In the following seven weeks, the competition will get serious. As unimportant as an event may seem, make no mistake. Any time you are in the presence of the men, including tonight, it is an opportunity for you to secure the interest of one who might be able to help your cause. If your gemstone isn't changing color as the days pass, it is an indication that you need to work harder. The more often the gem is infused with the men’s lust, the longer the color will remain. The longer and darker the color of the gemstones, the more freedoms and better treatment you will enjoy. If you retain only one thing I say today, let it be this; A clear gemstone by the end of the games means certain death."