“The most important moment of the day! You are not fully a Drahkita until you finish your culling. Now, you must face the priestesses so they can read your fate.”
26
Lina
Ileave the dressmaker, feeling like a completely different person. My skin is smooth and lighter. My clothes are as soft as a rabbit. My hair is still wet, but the curls are smooth and bouncy in a way I wasn’t sure they ever could have become.
I don’t jump at every shadow and flinch around every bend, even though the anxiety of meeting with the priestesses is swirling around in my body. Helena has taken good care of me now, and I’m getting a better sense of my surroundings.
The trek from the dressmaker back to our quarter is much longer than I expect it to be. Much like my walk with my Dread to my new prison cell, I am lost before long.
I did get a little bit of sense of things last night, but I have no idea where we are now.
As much as I’ve been feeling more confident in these halls with Helena, when I see the silhouette of a man in the shadows ahead, I suck in a breath and freeze mid-step.
Helena doesn’t seem to notice my reaction, though, and continues her joyous pace.
“Rickter! Blessings!” she calls.
“Helena.” He greets her with a sharp nod. “You have a new charge?”
“Yes!” She turns only to realize I am not directly behind her. She frowns at me and waves me forward. “Come on, then.”
The man flicks a brow.
“Shy as a mouse, this one,” she says to the guard.
“Aren’t they always in the beginning?” Though his words are kind enough, the man’s sharp eyes linger too long on my body. My nostril’s flare with my unease, but I hide everything else. “Personally, I’ve always enjoyed the shy ones?—”
A hand is suddenly at the man’s throat, shoving him against the wall. “Watch those lingering eyes, Rickter.”
Rickter sputters and squirms against the wall, eyes wide in fear. “I’m sorry,” he stammers outs. “I didn’t mean anything?—”
My Dread releases the guard’s throat and straightens his jacket. His face is again covered with black cloth that conceals all but his harsh eyes. He stares at me, his lazy gaze slowly sliding down my body.
“Did the dressmaker run out of fabric?” he spits.
“You don’t like it?” Helena stumbles over her words, stepping forward to come between us. “We can get something different!”
His jaw shifts beneath the cloth. “There is no reason for her stomach to be exposed. It is too cold. And I do not like men leering at what is mine.”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Helena nods rapidly. “I can go back and?—”
“It will do for now,” he says, rolling his shoulders. His hard, uncaring eyes remain on my stomach. I don’t like that he refuses to look me in the eyes.
I cross my arms.
He doesn’t seem to notice my annoyance. “Come,” he tells me then turns on his heel and marches away.
I scoff. Does he really expect me to be okay with being treated like a dog?
“Go,” Helena shoos me toward him. “It is better to obey.”
My Dread stops when he realizes I am not following, but he does not turn. Instead, he waits, his back still to me.
I take in a long breath but finally decide if I wanted to die quickly, I would have leapt from the dressmaker’s window. My defiance must live in the shadows. Better to keep eyes off of me by appearing as a non-threat.
So, I wipe the annoyance off my face and scamper forward. My Dread restarts his walk the moment I’m moving toward him. His sense of hearing must be exceptional. I make note of that for the future.
