I don't know how long I stayed in the bath.
Only that my skin had begun to wrinkle.
I climbed out, took a towel from the rack, dried myself, and wrapped it around my waist.
The door creaked as I eased it open.
I peeked left, then right.
Empty.
Then slipped back into my room.
On the bed lay folded clothes.
Brown trousers, a white shirt.
Simple but clean.
I picked them up and carried them back to the bath.
I tossed the towel into the basket and dressed.
The clothes were a little loose, but comfortable.
I rinsed my boots, scrubbing away the dirt, then gathered them with my filthy clothes and returned to the room.
Click.
The door closed behind me.
I threw the old clothes in a corner and set my boots near the bed before letting myself fall onto the mattress.
Creak.
The frame groaned beneath me.
The bed was hard, far rougher than anything at the estate.
But I didn't care.
I was just too exhausted.
The room was silent.
Only me and my thoughts remained.
The silence didn't last.
Soon, images filled my mind.
They always came when I was alone.
A reminder of why I was here.
Theodora crying into Mother's arms.
Mother's pale face.
Father's cold dismissal.
Favian's pleased smile.
And Adonis...
Dragged away in chains.
Tears slid down my cheeks.
I pressed a sleeve to my eyes, brushing them away.
'You were innocent. I know it. And I couldn't stop it.'
The tears slowed after some breaths, and my hand fell down to the mattress.
'I'll train.'
'I'll grow stronger.'
'I'll find you.'
'And...'
'I'll bring you back.'
I drew a long breath, trying to steady myself.
The exhaustion of travel, the bath's heat, and the weight of my thoughts pressed down.
My eyes closed before I realized it.
Sleep took me.
***
Thud.
The sound hit my door like a hammer.
I jolted upright, heart racing.
Sleep still clung to me, the room tilting, the world was a smear of shadow and light.
A voice cut through the fog.
"Come on, princess. Time to wake up. You don't want to be late on your first day, right?"
I rubbed my eyes until the sleepiness vanished.
Sam stood at the end of the bed, dressed in the same plain white shirt and brown trousers as I was.
His hair was messy, and his grin wide.
He tapped the bedframe with the side of his boot.
Tap.
"Up, princess."
I brushed a hand down my face and swung my legs over the edge.
The floor was cold on my barefeet.
My voice came slow, still thick with sleep.
"What time is it?"
He jerked a thumb toward the corridor.
"Five. Breakfast is ready."
He turned and stepped away, leaving the door wide open.
I stretched until my joints popped.
Then pulled my boots on and shut the door behind me.
Click.
The corridor glowed faintly with lightstones.
Narrow windows showed the outside, the sky was still black-blue.
Voices drifted from the hall ahead, a low mix of talk and clatter.
Sam's silhouette moved in front of me, one arm raised in a lazy wave.
He spoke without looking back.
"Keep up, Princess."
I followed him into the dining hall.
Yesterday, it had been quiet, almost empty.
Now it buzzed.
The air smelled of warm bread and frying meat.
A dozen kids filled the space. Chairs scraped. Plates clinked. Someone laughed. Someone else shushed them.
A voice rose over the rest.
"New one?"
A boy about Sam's age lounged near a pillar.
A scar cut under his left eye, and his smirk was already irritating.
Sam slid an arm around my shoulder in a half-hug, tugging me a step forward.
His grin widened as he gave me an introduction fitting for my 'status.'
"This pretty boy is Lucien Ashspire. But you can call him princess. First day. Be nice."
A few chuckles escaped them.
A girl with short hair hid her smile behind her cup, while the scarred boy laughed out loud.
Sam patted my shoulder in mock reassurance.
"Don't worry, princess. They don't bite."
The scarred boy added, grinning.
"Not yet."
Laughter rippled across the room again.
I bowed, not caring about it, and spoke politely.
"Thank you for the welcome. I hope we get along."
Sam tapped my shoulder.
"Enough for now. Food first. Talk later."
He led me to the counter beneath Iva's serving window.
Trays and dishes lined the wood.
Steam curled from a pan of eggs. Bread stacked in baskets. Sausages popped in their own fat. Jugs of milk stood beside them.
He handed me a plate.
"Take what you want, eat what you take. If you don't finish, Iva will turn your soul into a mop. Dishes go back here when you're done."
He turned his face to me, smile bright.
"Eat. You'll need it."
He immediately piled half the counter onto his plate.
Meat.
More meat.
And three slices of bread.
I took less.
Eggs. A slice of bread. A bit of meat. A glass of milk.
Hunger gnawed at me from the travel, but mornings were always slow for me.
Sam already sat at an empty table, chewing happily.
I joined him, keeping my focus on the plate.
The first bite of warm food felt like heaven.
Once I'd eaten enough, I asked,
"What happens next?"
Sam spoke around a mouthful of sausage.
"We eat. Then we go out to the yard for morning greetings."
I drank a sip of milk.
"And then?"
A voice rose from behind me.
"Princess, just eat and let it surprise you."
More laughter echoed.
I swallowed my retort with bread.
Sam pointed at me with his sausage.
"Tsk. Princess. One thing at a time. Bad habit of yours. Won't get you far with the ladies."
My lips twitched.
'These guys...'
I stopped my questions and finished my plate in silence, waiting as Sam conquered his mountain.
Clank.
He dropped his fork on the empty plate and stood up.
"Let's go."
I rose after him.
We stacked our empty dishes on the counter before Sam led me down the corridor, toward the far end of the building.
A door waited there.
He pushed it open.
Creak.
Cold air drifted in.
He walked through it, and I followed.
The training yard stretched wide behind the building.
A circle of sand marked the center.
A running lane of hard dirt ringed it, divided by a line of stone. Grass filled the rest, scattered with trees.
A high wall of weathered stone enclosed it all.
The sky was still dark.
Lightstones hung along the walls, casting a pale glow across the yard.
Sam led me toward the center.
The others were already there, forming neat lines on the sand.
I counted in my head as I watched them.
'Twelve.'
Then two more slipped through the door behind us.
'Fourteen. With us, sixteen.'
Sam pointed at the lines.
"Formation goes by rank. Oldest to youngest, but not by age. Arrival. First stands at the front. Last at the back. You're the last. Go stand there."
He gave my shoulder a light push.
I walked to the rear of the second line and took my place.
The boy ahead stood straight, feet firm, hands locked behind his back, eyes forward.
No one spoke now.
The laughter from breakfast was gone.
Silence settled across the group as they waited.