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THE BARRACKS LIES west of the castle, a twenty minute walk cutting left through the forest glade between the castle and the House of Ell. It takes me another ten minutes to walk the fenced perimeter—eight foot high, made of thick wooden poles with elongated pointy ends piercing up into the sky like giant pencils. Impossible to climb without piking myself.
I slip into the tree line when the gate comes into view, a guard standing sentinel on one side. He must be for show. It’s not like us humans pose any kind of real threat.
The guard turns his head in my direction. He’s aware I’m here. He probably heard my footsteps approaching. He can probably hear my heart pounding. Their advantages over us are so overwhelming, my plan seems crazy right now. How on earth am I going to find Gabe and Kane and get us out of here?
But I can’t not try.
Taking a deep breath for fortitude, I step out from the trees with as much confidence in my stride as I can fake. The guard, a young male with braided brown hair and a tall, trim frame, watches me with interest.
“Hello, little Silk,” he drawls as I near. “Lost?”
“Hello.” A painfully lackluster smile stretches my dry lips, a vein ticking wildly at my temple. He won’t kill me. I don’t think. “I’m looking for a buffet Silk. Gabriel Winter?”
His gold-rimmed stare bores into me. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”
“You will?”
The guard smirks. “What do you think? I’m not here to do your bidding, Silk. Off with you now. The barracks are off limits to house Silks.”
He knows I’m a house Silk?
I stop a solid six feet from him. “I was just wondering...um, where he’s been assigned to work?”
“Has your house mistress not explained the rules of intermingling?”
“I’m not asking to mingle with anyone. I’d like to know where Gabriel Winter has been assigned.”
He covers the distance between us in a blur. One moment he’s at the gate, the next he’s breathing down my neck. “I’d call this mingling.”
It takes everything I have to remain still, to not run for my life. He’s not touching me, but there’s precious little air between us. His head is tilted toward me, his jaw nearly grazing my cheek.
Is he sniffing my neck?
My toes curl in disgust. “What—what are you doing?”
“Sampling a whiff of future delights,” he murmurs against my skin. “How long have you been with us, Silk?”
“I’ve just arrived,” I say stiffly. “So has my friend, Gabriel Winter. If you could just—”
“It may be a while before I get a taste then, eh?” he speaks over me, his nose scraping the hollow just below my earlobe. “Delicious.”
He’s not going to help.
He’s just toying with me.
I lurch backward, out of his space and the disgusting sniffing.
“Not so fast, little Silk.” He’s on me in a flash, a hand clasped over my shoulder to anchor me in place. “The houses Darkwood and Brandewyn like to hunt. They rotate their Silks every season. Maybe it won’t be all that long before my first taste.”
His hand slides over my shoulder, pulls at the collar of my top—he’s already released me, is back at his position by the gate before my reflexes kick in to smack him off me.
“Go,” he orders, his eyes screwing into me. “If I ever see you skulking around here again, I’ll report you to Mistress Ell.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I turn and flee, feeling a hundred kinds of stupid. Did I honestly expect to just march up to the barracks and demand answers? And what’s up with the dramatic turnaround? One second he’s lusting over my throat and the next—he saw my tattoo, I realize.
My brand.
He knows I’m from the House of Ell.
He’s scared of me? I think of Mistress Ell and the command she seemed to have over Grigore in the carriage that brought us to the hunt.
Some Silks do carry power here...but Lorene said Mistress Ell was the prince’s favorite for ages. He put her in charge of the House of Ell. It may be possible for a Silk to rise to a level of power, but not me, not now. I’ve only just arrived. And I don’t intend to stick around nearly as long as Mistress Ell.
That guard isn’t scared of you, Senna.
He’s scared of the prince.
Back at the house, I wipe a hand across my brow and take a couple of minutes to steady my breaths before I push through the kitchen door.
Elbow deep in soap suds at the sink, Mary gives me a sidelong look. “Mistress Ell won’t let you sit down for lunch in that state.”
Most likely not. My hair is plastered to my neck and forehead with sweat and the bottoms of my pants are scuffed with dirt from the forest floor.
A glance at my watch shows I’ve got a half hour to make myself presentable. “Could I grab a drink first? It’s sweltering out there.”
“There’s no need to ask.” She nods toward a cabinet where I find the glasses. “Fresh lemonade in the fridge.”
“Would you like a glass?” I ask as I pour the ice cold lemonade. After my encounter with the guard, I reckon a more subtle approach might work better.
“No, thank you.”
“Silk Lorene told me you’re a buffet Silk.”
“That’s correct.”
Beneath her apron, she’s wearing a plain cotton summer dress. That’s how the guard knew I was a house Silk. They dress us in silk to set us apart from the buffet.
“And you’re from Ironcross?” I ask Mary.
“That’s a long time ago.” She continues scrubbing at a pot without looking at me. “I’m from here now.”
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
“No.”
I sip on my lemonade, watching as she stacks the pot on the drying rack and starts on a heavy-base pan. “You don’t have family? Friends?”
She’s done scrubbing and lifts her hands out of the water, grabbing a towel to dry them as she turns to face me. “You should leave Ironcross and everyone you knew there in the past. It’s easier that way.”
I miss Jessie like a phantom limb. I’m worried sick about my dad. Losing Mom took half of him. Will losing me take the other half? I think it might. I’m almost sure there’s nothing left of him now and I’m responsible for that.
So I try not to think about them.
I won’t forget.
I’ll never stop trying to get back to them.
But I have to leave them in the past for now; it’s the only way to keep on functioning.
It’s not easier.
It’s just the only way.
I finish my lemonade and bring the empty glass over to the sink. “A friend of mine was Tithed with me. He’s a buffet Silk.”
Mary takes the glass to rinse out. “How many years ago?”
“No, Tithed with me. We came here together yesterday.”
“That’s unusual.” She sends me a look. “Silks usually serve a house before they’re passed on to the buffet.”
So I keep hearing. “The circumstances are unusual, I guess. Gabriel Winter. Did you see him around the barracks last night? Or this morning?”
She grabs the towel again to dry her hands.
“I just want to know if he’s okay,” I press. “Blond hair, blue eyes, a couple inches taller than me.”
The pot goes into the deep drawer beside the sink and she starts on another. “Gabriel. He’s doing just fine.”
“Will you pass a note on to him for me?”
No response.
“We were paired,” I say desperately, a small lie to cut through the drama of me and Gabe. “Please. Weren’t you ever in love?”
She bangs the pot down.
“Has he been assigned to a job outside the barracks?”
Finally, she grants me some sort of response. “He won’t be, not for a while.”
My heart sinks. “Why not?”
“House Silks grow accustomed to the finer living of their owners. The transition is often troublesome. They’re always put to work inside the barracks, under supervision, until they’ve adjusted to their new position. Listen, child...” She looks at me in a long silence, frowning, then shakes her head on a sigh. “I’m not carrying messages between you and Gabriel and we won’t be having any more conversations about this. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
It’s not the answer I want, but it’s something. At least I know Gabe is okay.
“The way what is?” a new voice quips.
I swing around, startled, to see Amanda Gibbons stepping in from the hallway. Her face is fuller, and she’s wearing her hair much longer, a midnight black river falling over her shoulders to her waist. She was in Kane’s Tithe year. Kane. The girl he married, Ellie. Amanda. Joshua. The four of them were always together in the school yard.
The first words out my mouth are ridiculous. “I didn’t know you were Tithed.”
A smile shapes her cupid bow lips. “And the Alders promised we’d live on forever.”
“I’m sorry.” I slap a hand to my mouth. “It’s just me. I always avoided everything Tithe related.”
“Until you couldn’t,” she says with understanding. Then, “You must be Silk Senna,” without a shadow of recognition in her tone. “You should go upstairs to change before Mistress Ell sees you. It wouldn’t be pleasant.”
I hesitate, wondering what I should say about Kane. There’s no way to explain him being Tithed outside his year without exposing him as an Alder, so I just nod and scoot off upstairs.
If...when I see Kane, he can decide.
An opportunity Mistress Ell puts within my reach when she announces at lunch, “I have special news to share. As you may be aware, Prince Neculai exchanges vows with his bride tonight. The ceremony will take place at midnight and we’ve been invited to attend the banquet afterward.”
“Attend the banquet?” I raise a brow at her. “Or are we the banquet?”
“I don’t appreciate vulgar language at the table,” she says. “You may be excused.”
I’m halfway through my bowl of vegetable broth, but I’m done anyway. It’s proving impossible to maintain a healthy appetite in this house.
My mind drifts to Kane and the prince’s bride as I make my way outside to the walled garden that butts against the side of the house.
Does he already belong to her?
Or is he tonight’s wedding gift?
I suppose it’s too much to hope he’ll be housed here with us. But even if the princess bride keeps her own house of Silks, it’s likely he’ll enjoy the same freedoms we do. I just need to find out where Kane is staying—or maybe he’ll find me.
The garden is a small enclosure with a central fountain pond, flower beds along the walls and the bench I slump onto beneath the shade of a rowan tree.
I’m not left to my own thoughts for long.
Amanda strolls up to me with a smirk. “You’re going to be an interesting addition to this house, aren’t you?”
“I don’t plan on it.”
“If your aim is to keep a low profile, you’re doing it all wrong.”
I roll my eyes at her as she perches on the bench beside me. “I’m having a hard time pretending everything is bliss when we’re on the banquet menu.”
Unlike some other people, I want to add as I eye Lorene enter through the iron gate with her sunshine smile. I purse my lips on the bitchy comment.
Amanda picks up on it anyway. “Don’t judge too harshly. This is bliss compared to the life she comes from.”
I shoot her a frowning look. “Starling?”
“They don’t have the Tithe,” she says, her gaze tracking Lorene as the girl sits on the stone rim of the pond and trails her fingers in the green water. “They have banishings twice a year for the spring and winter hunts. It sounds more like a culling to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Starling is ruled by two bloodlines. One descended from the original mayor of Starling way back when, the other from the family that owned the surrounding farmland before it was all walled in. They’re called the Golds and they’re basically untouchable. The Silver families hold all the positions of authority, under the thumb of the Golds. Silk Lorene is from a Bronze family. They’re basically slaves. They don’t own anything and they have no choice. They’re told who to marry and what jobs to do.”
“Silk Lorene,” she calls out and Lorene’s gaze pops our way. “Silk Senna would like to know about the banishings in Starling.”
“Oh.” Lorene smiles at me. “Well, we have two banishings a year, spring and winter. The five people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six with the lowest average score since the last one are banished.”
“The Golds aren’t scored,” Amanda says. “Silvers are born with a score of one hundred. If you’re not a Gold, you earn or lose points from the age of eighteen. What score were you born with?” she asks Lorene.
“We take the current combined score of our parents at birth,” Lorene tells me. “I was born with a score of nine.”
“And it’s all downhill from there,” Amanda says.
Lorene shakes her head vigorously. “You can improve your score with hard work and...and being a good citizen.”
“And by granting favors to certain upstanding members of the community,” Amanda adds scornfully.
Lorene frowns at that. “If you improve your score above fifty, you’re elevated to a Silver. It happens.”
“Sure it does,” Amanda says. “Tell Silk Senna what your score was when you were culled.”
“That’s enough,” I grind out, glaring at Amanda. She’s treating Lorene like some kind of sideshow. Does she honestly think we’ve done any better in Ironcross?
Have we?
It doesn’t feel like it. But maybe that’s because everything I’ve heard here pales in comparison to what both Ironcross and Starling are. Human breeding farms. We’re all slaves so long as bloodsuckers walk the earth.
Something Kane said hits me out of the blue. The Vampyres aren’t immortal. The Alders believe some of the Tithed—or Banished—are deliberately infected, turned, to keep the Vampyres from going extinct.
But that’s not possible. “The prince told me everyone from Ironcross is immune,” I say to Lorene. “Is that true for Starling, too?”
Lorene’s eyes widen on me. “The prince has conversations with you?”
“It wasn’t exactly civil, but yeah.” I glance at Amanda—she’s looking at me like I just confessed to tea with the devil. “Is he not supposed to?”
She shrugs it off with, “The prince does as he wishes.”
He sure does. “Have you ever heard of anyone being infected or, um, turned into a Vampyre?”
“Of course not.” She arches a brow at me. “Is that what you were hoping? That he’d turn you? This is the real world, not a romantic fairytale.”
I don’t bother defending myself.
I’m much more interested in mulling over what Kane might make of the new information about our immunity.