First Test: Hunting.

(Gwen’s POV)

The bell rang through my sleep. I shot upright with my heart hammering and the quilt tangled around my legs.

"Finally," a voice said. "I was starting to think you'd died."

Sera stood in the middle of the room, fully dressed in a fitted dark riding outfit that hugged every curve, her hair twisted into a neat knot with the gold threads catching the light.

She looked rested, while I felt like something dragged out of a river.

"What's happening?" I rasped. "Is it morning already?"

"Is it by sleeping that you'll get a chance to see the king, nymph?" She smoothed her sleeve without looking at me. "The commander announced that we have three minutes to be out."

My eyes widened. "Three minutes?"

"Two and a half now."

I flew out of bed so fast that I tripped over the quilt and nearly landed on my face. Sera snorted behind me, and I ignored her and ran for the screen at the back of the room, where a basin of water was already kept for me.

I plunged my hands in and gasped, because it was so cold that it made my teeth ache, but there was no time to complain. I splashed my face, scrubbed my neck and arms with a cloth, and rinsed my mouth with a handful of water, my heart racing the whole time.

"Two minutes," Sera called, sounding delighted.

"I heard you!"

Sera screamed back. "I'm only being helpful."

"You're being horrible…" I shot back and ran out of the bathtub.

"Those can be the same thing." Something soft hit me in the back of the head, and I turned, dripping, to find a folded bundle of gray cloth lying at my feet. "The commander delivered it while you were drooling on the pillow. It's your uniform."

I unfolded it with wet, shaking hands. It was a plain tunic with a matching pair of trousers and a wide leather belt, the kind of hunting clothes scouts in my father's pack wore, and I pulled them on quickly.

The tunic fell past my knees. The sleeves hung so far over my hands that my fingertips vanished, and the neckline slid off one shoulder as soon as I let go of it.

The trousers pooled around my ankles in thick, sagging folds, and when I looked up at the little mirror on the wall, a tiny, frowning girl stared back at me, swallowed whole by a garment made for someone twice her size.

"It's too big," I said stupidly.

Sera's laughter rang through the room, bright and cruel. She had one hand pressed to her stomach, and tears of amusement shone in her eyes. "Oh, goddess, look at you. You look like a child playing in her father's clothes."

"They must have made a mistake."

"Perhaps..." She wiped her eyes. "Or maybe the commander just saw you for what you are."

"And what is that?"

"Small." She walked to the door and paused with her hand on the handle, looking back with a terrible smile. "I can't wait for you to be removed, nymph. The king can't marry a child."

The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood there with my face burning and my throat aching, the oversized sleeves dangling uselessly at my sides.

It was a stupid thing to cry over, and I knew it. I had a curse on my arm and a king to impress and a death sentence ticking down, and here I was, near tears because someone had called me small.

But it stung, because it was almost the same thing everyone had always said, in different words.

‘Don't you dare’

I blinked hard until my eyes cleared, then pulled my belt tight and cinched the tunic around my waist until it stopped sliding.

I rolled the sleeves back three times, twisted my damp hair into a quick braid, and yanked the neckline up over my shoulder with a safety pin from my pocket. It wasn't pretty, but it held.

Then I reached for the lace glove on the chair and slipped it over the mark on my hand, which had spread another thread-thin line during the night. I pressed my palm flat against my chest and breathed out.

"Not today, I won’t cry today and I’ll make sure I’m not sent home," I whispered.

I got to the corridor and other girls were already lined up along the wall, all in the same gray hunting clothes, and every one of them wore it as if it had been cut with their exact measurements.

The redhead's tunic hugged her waist, and the girl with the silver laugh had made the trousers look elegant. Beside them, I looked like I'd lost a bet.

Someone snickered. Someone else cleared her throat very loudly to cover another laugh.

The commander stood at the end of the line, her hands clasped behind her back, and her sharp eyes traveled over me, from my rolled sleeves to my sagging trousers, and then moved on without comment.

"Everyone present," she said. "Good. Follow me."

She led us down a wide staircase and through a hall with arched windows to a long dining room, where a table stretched from one end to the other, covered with warm bread, honey, boiled eggs, and bowls of steaming porridge.

My stomach clenched with hunger so loudly that the girl beside me glanced over.

"Sit," the commander said. "Eat. You will need it."

We sat. For a few minutes there was only the clink of spoons and the low murmur of nervous voices, and I tore a piece of bread in half and ate it so fast that I barely tasted it.

"Do you think it's a dance?" the redhead whispered across the table. "Or a speech?"

"Last year's selection started with a speech," someone answered. "My cousin was there."

"Last year's king wasn't Xaden."

"That's true."

"Before we begin," the commander said, and every whisper died. "Since we will be spending the next few days together, I will say this once. My name is Rhea, and that is what you will call me. Not Commander, not ma'am, and not Captain. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Rhea," we murmured.

"Good. It makes me feel less like a general and more like a person." Her mouth twitched, almost a smile, and then it was gone. "Finish eating."

The meal ended fast. When the last bowl was empty, Rhea rose and walked to the head of the table, and the room went so quiet.

"Your first test begins in one hour," she said. "You will go hunting."

A ripple of astonished murmurs ran down the table.

"You will each be given a bow and a quiver of arrows. You will go down into the forest, and you will bring back good meat for the king." She let that sit. "Bring back something worthy of his table. But if you bring back the one he is allergic to, you will be disqualified immediately."

"Which one is it?" the redhead blurted.

Rhea looked at her. "If I told you, it would not be a test."

I sat very still with my gloved hand pressed hard against my knee, and the safety pin dug into my shoulder.

Hunting— in a tunic three sizes too big and for a king who is allergic to something I couldn't name.