Chapter Six

Amos spun me around to face him.

“What did I—”

“Come with me,” he said. His grip tightened, tugging me through the crowd.

It took me a moment to realize we were headed toward the barracks at the edge of the palace grounds. Releasing my arm, Amos pushed through the heavy wooden door, and we entered the main corridor. Lanterns hung on hooks along the wall leading toward the mess hall and sleeping quarters.

We made our way down to the dining area, and Amos ushered me in. Several benches and tables were spread throughout the room, and a large stone fireplace dominated the back corner, flames dancing against the dimness. Captain Bushwell and Sergeant Daggard stood when they saw us.

A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the three of them. I’d let them down. They’d put so many hours into training me, running me through drills.

“I’m sorry they didn’t pick you, Ivy.” Amos kicked at a bench. “The council is made up of fools. Their choices had more to do with politics than talent and experience.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my face. “My father’s on the council, too.”

“Which means they must’ve made some type of deal with him to keep you from the Mission,” Amos grumbled.

My fists clenched. My jaw tightened as I stared at the sword and shield hanging above the mantel. The council. They ruined everything.

I screamed, my fist connecting with the nearest table, sending shocks of pain up my arm. “All my training was for nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Captain Bushwell said. “Your life is more than this Mission.”

“But I’ll never be anything now.”

Amos left the room and, a moment later, came back holding a tunic and pair of breeches. “Get changed, then meet us behind the barracks,” he said.

The three of them left, shutting the door behind them, and I ripped my horrid costume off and tossed it in the fireplace. The flames leapt like hungry jaws and devoured the dress. A plume of smoke flitted up, like the hearth had burped.

I slid the tunic over my head and tugged the breeches on. A sense of familiarity washed over me, as if the soldier’s uniform welcomed me home.

Once changed, I headed out back to find Amos waiting inside the practice grounds. A wooden fence ran the length of the training area. Rows of wooden posts with pegs attached, which were used to simulate the enemy, lined part of the yard. Boulders, trees, carts, partial walls, and even fences stood as obstacles for the soldiers to train on. More times than I’d like to count, I had faced this course. I frowned. None of it had done me any good. Not the rope climbing or the wall jumping or even the sword fights.

Amos waved me over with the weapon in his hands, and I trudged toward him.

“Forget about everything, Ivy. The Mission. The Choosing Ceremony. This is all that matters.” He handed me a sword. “If you want to be great, then you have to believe you are. What happened out there doesn’t matter,” he said. “Only these do.” Amos held up his sword, touching the handle to his heart.

“Heart and sword,” I whispered, clutching the hilt of my blade and drawing it to my chest in salute. Beneath my fist, the drum of my pulse pounded an ancient rhythm, reminding me what I wanted to be.

“That’s all a true warrior needs. And you’ve got both.” Amos lifted his weapon. “Now get your arse in position. We’re going to burn off some of that anger.”

True to his word, Amos put me through the rounds. My mind focused on dodging and striking and rolling. When I was on the offensive, I’d strike, and when on the defensive, I’d parry and block. For hours, we went back and forth, and I let the evening’s travesties drift from my mind, getting lost in the one thing I knew—training.

A while later, Cook barged through the gate. “Thank the Hag. I’ve been looking everywhere for ye.” She hurried toward me. “Should’ve known ye’d come here.”

Amos’s leg connected with my chest, sending me to the ground. A groan escaped my lips.

“Rule one: don’t lose concentration.” He leaned down to help me back up. “Even if it is the most feared woman in Gob Hollow coming to get you.”

Seeing Cook made me feel small again. Like any moment, she’d come bandage me up and I’d be all better. But I knew this was one thing she couldn’t fix. Retrieving my sword, I handed it to Captain Bushwell, who patted me on the shoulder.

“Thought she could use a distraction after the blasted announcements.” Amos handed me a cloth to wipe my face.

Cook nodded. “Thanks for watching after her. And ye”—she turned toward me—“don’t ye go worrying about that King’s Council. They’re nothing but a bunch of eejits. Everybody knows yer the one they should’ve picked.”

Fighting back a sob, I rushed forward and hugged Cook. Her wide arms covered me like a warm blanket. “Nothing worked out how I thought it would.”

“Things hardly ever do, Ivy girl. Now come along. Yer father said we’re staying at the palace quarters tonight. Too many drunken gobs running about for us to be walking through the village.”

I nodded, then turned to Amos. “Thanks.”

He touched a fisted hand to his chest. “My pleasure.”

Cook and I headed toward the palace. “Ivy girl, don’t think I’ve forgotten about that tattoo of yers. Ye need to sit down and talk to yer father about it.”

I sighed. “Not tonight. I’m drained after all this.”

“Then soon. This isn’t something to just sit on, ye hear?”

Two guards met us at the door. Another four walked along the upper wall, crossbows in hand, while several others stood in the towers. They waved us through. Torches burned bright along the stone walls, casting elongated shadows across the floor and ceiling. Our footsteps echoed off the rocks, making it sound as if someone followed us. We trudged up three flights of stairs before arriving at our apartment.

When I opened the door, I found Pudge sitting at a small table, chomping down on a bowl of steaming innards.

“You doing okay?” he asked in between slurps and bites.

With a shrug, I said, “About as well as I can.”

“Well, you definitely told the prince a thing or two. I bet he won’t try to talk to you for weeks.” Pudge stood and slapped me on the back, sending me staggering forward.

“Ivy, ye didn’t?” Cook’s hands rested on her hips.

I smiled. “I was defending my honor. Be glad I didn’t sock him in the eye or something.”

She shook her head. “Ye best be careful. The last thing ye need is to get in trouble with the king.”

“Don’t think I can get into much more trouble than I’m already in.”

She snorted, moving to a small liquor cabinet. “I’ve heard that before.” She poured herself a cup of ale, then glared at me. “Where’s yer costume?”

“Let’s just say it made for a nice fire.”

“Ivy!”

Father pushed into the room before Cook had the chance to grab a switch. He looked tired, his robes rumpled, hair coming loose from its tie.

“Good, they found you,” he said.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll head for bed now.” I turned away from him.

“Ivy, we need to talk.”

“I’m not old enough to know about Mother, but I’m old enough to marry off, is that it?” I snapped, spinning back around. “I don’t know why you keep punishing me.”

He reached out to catch my hand, but I snatched it back. “I’m not punishing you,” he said. “Things are complicated right now.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that much longer. Soon, I’ll be off your hands and another goblin’s problem.” With that, I stomped into my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I slid to the floor and sat with my back against the wall, burying my face in my hands.

From the other room, I heard the door open, and my father said, “I’ve got to get back to the Council Chambers. Pudge, watch after Ivy tonight. Don’t let her do anything foolish.” And with that, the door slammed shut.