Behave like Sisters

(Gwen’s POV)

The warrior woman didn't say a word until the iron door had closed and the courtyard had emptied of everyone who hadn't been picked.

Those girls left in silence, some of them in tears, and I tried not to look at the one who'd stepped out of line before me. She walked past with her chin high and her eyes wet, and I felt a small, ugly twist of guilt.

"Ten of you," the warrior woman said at last, looking us over like a general counting soldiers. "Follow me, and keep your voices down. You will rest properly tonight, because tomorrow will not be kind."

We followed her through the palace in a nervous line. The corridors were so tall that our footsteps echoed up into the dark.

I kept my gloved hand pressed to my skirt and my eyes on the floor, partly because the girl with the gold in her hair walked three places ahead of me and I didn't want her turning around.

"Rooms are shared," the woman said over her shoulder. "Two to a room. You will not fight, you will not argue, and you will not make trouble for the girl beside you. The Alpha does not tolerate petty cruelty under his roof, so I suggest you behave like sisters."

"Sisters?" someone behind me whispered, and a few of the girls laughed under their breath.

"Is something funny?"

They all stilled. "No, ma'am."

She stopped at the first door and read a name from a scroll we had written our names, then another, and the two girls went inside together, one of them already complaining about the size of the room.

Door after door, pair after pair, until only two of us were left in the corridor, and I realized with a sinking feeling exactly who I'd been given.

"Seraphine," the woman read. "And Gwen."

I turned slowly. The girl with the gold in her hair was looking at me with a smile so sweet it could have curdled milk.

"Seraphine?" I said.

"Call me Sera." She didn't offer her hand. "All my friends do."

"I'm not sure we're friends."

"Oh, we'll be something." She breezed past me into the room before I could reply.

The warrior woman held the door open for me. "Get some sleep, Gwen. I do not want to hear a single complaint from either of you."

"Yes, ma'am." I stepped inside, and my heart sank for again.

It was a lovely room, warm and clean, with a small fire burning low in the grate and a window overlooking the palace gardens, but there was only one bed.

It was big and soft, piled with white pillows and a heavy blue quilt, and there wasn't a second one anywhere.

"Excuse me," I said, turning back. "There's only one bed."

"Yes." She sounded perfectly calm. "You were meant to share. If either of you find that uncomfortable, there is a mat in the cupboard."

"A mat?"

"A straw one. It's thin, but it's clean." She looked at me, "I wouldn't fight over it. Whoever starts the first quarrel tonight will be sent home in the morning, and I'm not joking."

She shut the door before I could answer.

I stood in the middle of the room, listening to the fire pop, and let out a long breath.

Sera's voice drifted in from the screen at the back, where she seemed to be washing up, humming to herself in a satisfied little tune.

I was so tired that my bones hurt.

I started undressing. The pale green dress, the dress my mother had saved for my wedding, came off, and I laid it over the chair.

I took off the flowers and let my braid fall loose down my back. I unrolled my stockings and left them folded on the dress, and then, last of all, I tugged off the lace glove and looked at the mark.

It had grown. The black lines now curled past my wrist, thin as thread, branching toward my elbow in a pattern that was almost beautiful if I didn't think about what it was.

I flexed my fingers, watched it pulse faintly, and covered it with my other hand. "One kiss," I whispered. "Two more."

Then I got into bed in nothing but my cotton underwear, which were soft and plain and, as it turned out, made a perfectly good nightgown, and I pulled the heavy quilt to my chin and sighed so deeply.

The screen creaked and Sera came out in a silk robe, her gold-streaked hair loose over her shoulders, and stopped dead when she saw me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Going to sleep," I said, without opening my eyes.

"In my bed?"

"In our bed. You heard the commander."

"I don't share." Her footsteps came closer, quickly. "Get up."

"No."

"Get up, little mouse, or I will make you."

I opened one eye. She was standing over me with her arms folded and her smile gone, and the warm sweetness she'd worn in the corridor had vanished.

Up close, she was even more beautiful, which made it harder to look at her.

"Listen carefully," she said, in a voice low enough that no one in the corridor could have heard. "You embarrassed me out there. You looked at the king, and the king looked back, and I don't know what you did or who you paid, but I promise you won't enjoy it. Stay out of my way, stay away from him, and maybe I'll let you leave this place with all your teeth."

"Are you finished?"

"I'm just getting started—"

"Good." I sat up slowly, holding the quilt against my chest, and met her eyes. "Because I'm going to say this once. The commander said no fighting. She said whoever starts the first quarrel will be sent home in the morning. You just threatened me, in a room with a closed door and no witnesses, but I have a very loud voice and a sudden talent for crying."

Her mouth opened and shut.

"If I scream, she'll come running. If I have a single bruise tomorrow, I'll tell her exactly how it happened. And the king, who picked me out of fifty girls, who looked right past you when he wanted to find me again, might find it very interesting that one of his top ten behaves like a street thug when no one is watching."

"You—" she said at last, through her teeth, "are shameless. Sitting there half-naked like some forest nymph, in front of a stranger."

"It's underwear. It's more than what the king wore."

"I would rather sleep on a mat than share a bed with a nymph."

I stared at her for a moment, and then I laughed, helpless and a little hysterical, the first real laugh I'd had since the honey cake.

"Then please," I said, wiping my eyes, "go right ahead. The mat's in the cupboard."

She made a sound like a kettle about to boil, spun on her heel, and yanked open the cupboard so hard that the door banged against the wall.

The mat came out in a puff of dust. It really was thin. She dragged it to the side of the room, threw down a pillow with enough force, and lay on it with her back to me, her whole body rigid with fury.

"Goodnight, Sera," I said sweetly. She didn’t respond. "Sisters should say goodnight to each other."

"Go to hell."

I lay back against the pillows with the biggest, silliest smile I'd worn in days. It was petty, and I knew it, and I enjoyed every second of it anyway.

The warmness of the quilt and the crackle of the fire pulled me under, and I fell into a deep sleep.