Chapter 25 Palace Skyline

Chapter 25 Palace Skyline
Amaris wakes slowly, as though her body is rising through thick water, some parts of her feeling a little foggy and disoriented.

The first actual thing she feels is pain. It sits deep in the cut from the previous night on her shoulder and spreads down her back in a dull, relentless ache that sharpens whenever she shifts even slightly. Her breath catches, instinctively shallow, and she freezes where she is, afraid that moving too much will make it worse.

The second thing she feels is warmth.

The bed beneath her is nothing like the thin mattress she is used to, twice in the space of two days she’s woken up in unfamiliar places. The bed cradles her instead of fighting her weight, the sheets soft against her skin, the blanket heavy but comforting where it is draped over her lower body. The air smells faintly of firewood and something clean, something unfamiliar but pleasant.

Her eyes flutter fully open and for a long moment, she does not recognize where she is.

The ceiling above her is high and carved with faint designs that catch the morning light. Pale gold seeps through tall windows half-covered by curtains, painting the room in a soft yellow-gold warmth. There is a fireplace to her left, cold now but still smelling faintly of ash, and a low table beside the bed holding a bowl of water and folded clothes.

Memory from the previous night rushes in all at once and everything becomes clearer. From the incident in the room, to being led out of the hostel in that long corridor, then to the dark room under the staircase. The guard that obviously had it out for her right from the start and that unfriendly crack of leather, the pain that had torn through her skin.

Her breath stutters as she remembers the arms that caught her before the second hit, the way the world tilted when she was lifted from the floor by those strong arms. She remembers warmth, strength, and a voice that cut through the fear without raising itself.

She does not remember his face.

Only his scent, he seems to appear only when she needs him to. First the beta and now that guard.

Her wolf stirs faintly at the thought, not playful now, but alert in a quiet way, musing over the events of the previous day entirely. He carried us, it murmurs. He did not let them hurt us.

Amaris swallows.

Her knight in nice smelling armor, she thinks dizzily, and the thought almost makes her laugh if it does not also make her chest ache in a way she does not understand. Whoever he is, whatever his title, he came when she needed someone most.

She pushes herself upright slowly, gritting her teeth when pain flares again, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touch cool stone and ground her, she steadies herself there for a moment before standing fully regaining her strength.

Someone has laid out fresh clothing on a nearby chair. Simpler than most of what she saw on the other girls yesterday, but clean and well-fitting. She dresses carefully, mindful of her shoulder, and smooths her hair with her fingers as best as she can.

By the time she steps out into the corridor, the palace is fully awake.

Servants pass her with baskets and linens, guards stand at their posts with quiet efficiency, and the echo of distant voices drifts through the halls. No one stops her nor does anyone asks any questions her presence. Oddly enough, it unsettles her that they are not minding her presence there more than being dragged would have. She keeps her eyes out for that man but nothing comes to mind and his scent’s color is not in the air today which is kind of odd especially as she’d seen it in the daytime yesterday, even faintly but it’d been there… Unless it’s because the entire palace skyline is covered with thousands of scents and their colors.

It is overwhelming so she just sticks to getting back to where she ought to be, where she’s supposed to have no one or everyone scheming against her. She follows the path she remembers, guided partly by memory and partly by instinct, until the stone walls open into the familiar wing where the candidates’ quarters are housed.

The dormitory is not quiet unlike the general palace area that she’d just come from. She walks in through the door, sighing heavily. Conversation ripples through the room the moment she steps inside, laughter and whispers tangling together until they falter one by one. Heads turn and eyes widen and eventually the sounds drop into a tense hush.

Amaris feels and hears it immediately, the way the air shifts, the way bodies subtly pull back.

She steps further inside, her posture straight even as her shoulder throbs beneath her clothes. The girl she knocked unconscious yesterday is gone, the bed—that had her things before the mini confrontation— stripped bare, her belongings missing entirely. The empty space speaks louder than any announcement.

Someone whispers her name while saying something to another, someone else scoffs... it’s an unfriendly environment no doubt.

Rhea is sitting near the center of the room, surrounded by a cluster of girls who lean toward her as though drawn by gravity, they had obviously been the ones making the loudest noises when she’d been outside. When she looks up and sees Amaris, her lips curl, not in surprise, but in disdain and apparent gossip.

“Well,” Rhea says, her voice carrying easily through the room, “look who survived the night.”

A few nervous laughs ripple out, thin and uncertain.

Amaris does not respond.

She moves toward her space, the reason behind the incident, feeling every stare on her body like a physical weight pressing against her back. No one blocks her path, but no one makes room either. She senses the fear beneath their disdain, sharp and unmistakable.

You hate what you are afraid of. Her wolf hums quietly and she can’t help but agree with that statement.

As she reaches her bed, one of the girls nearby shifts away abruptly, bumps into another in her haste. A third mutters something under her breath about violence and savagery being there with them in the competitions. Amaris keeps her hands at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling slowly, keeping herself from getting angry and reenacting the whole thing.

Rhea stands down from her bed, obviously spoiling for a fight. “You know,” she says lightly, stepping forward, “it’s really unfortunate. The girl from last night, she had to be sent home this morning. Doctors said her injuries were… excessive.”

Her eyes flick briefly to Amaris’s shoulder. “But I suppose accidents happen,” Rhea continues. “Especially when some people, sorry, especially when some peasants forget their place.”

The room waits.

Amaris lifts her chin. “If you are trying to frighten me,” she says evenly, “you are doing a poor job of it.”

Silence drops like a stone but Rhea’s smile tightens. For a moment, something ugly flashes across her face before she shoos it away, she has a reputation to protect after all and being the mean girl does her no justice. “Oh, I’m not frightened,” Rhea replies. “I’m just curious how long you think this little performance will protect you.”

Amaris meets her gaze without blinking. Her heart pounds, but she does not look away. She thinks of strong arms, of warmth, of a presence that did not hesitate. “I don’t need protection, especially against bullies and scared little girls like you,” she says quietly.

The words hang there, daring anyone to challenge them.

No one does.

Inside, her wolf is doing a wild dance, smiling at the Amaris that is defending herself.

The head woman enters moments later, her expression severe as she scans the room. Her gaze pauses on Amaris for just a fraction of a second before moving on, her expression not giving anything away.

“Settle yourselves,” she says. “The day will be long, arrange yourselves in the yard in the next thirty minutes.”

As the room begins to stir again without her being the cause of it, Amaris lowers herself onto her bed. Her shoulder aches, her body is tired, and her mind feels stretched thin from everything she has endured.

But beneath it all, something steady has taken root. She does not know his face and neither does she does know his name. But she knows the way he smelled, the way he held her, and the way the palace itself seemed to bend around his presence and that is enough to keep her mind occupied from the unfriendliness around her.

Just then, she sniffs the air, something is mushy in her coat. She fishes it out and sighs, she’d forgotten the foil gift Wilhelmina had given her the day before. She unwraps what is left of it and a small dessert comes loose.

She smiles as she notes the now rough writing atop the piece, it read “Happy birthday” but now it’s been mashed.

Amaris eats it anyway, loving that the number of allies has gone up one person.