To Best the Boys(33)

“Sorry,” she mutters, ducking low to tremble under the covers. “It’s frigid outside, and I barely slept a wink last night. Where’d you go? You abandoned me to everyone! Also, I tried one of your cakes in the kitchen—they’re lovely and still warm. Good job.”

“I went to Sow’s pub.” I rub my eyes and wonder what the town looks like after last night.

“Sow’s?” She frowns. “You left my party to hit up the pub? No wonder Vincent and his father went to check on you. You could’ve been hurt just from fraternizing with those boys! I heard there were riots! It’s all the men were talking about after you left.”

“It was fine. Lute walked me home and—”

“Lute?” She lifts her head and looks at me through the dark. “Lute Wilkes? Walked you home?”

I don’t answer.

“And?”

“And what?”

She scoffs and punches my arm. “Rhen Tellur, you’ve been sweet on Lute since age ten. And I saw you blush yesterday—so don’t ‘what?’ me. Does Vincent know?”

“It’s not like that. He was just ensuring I got home safe. And it was for my parents’ sake, so I really don’t see how that’s Vincent’s business.”

She laughs and falls into her gossipy tone. “Um, maybe because Vincent keeps hinting that he’s planning to court you? And because—as I mentioned before, you may recall—you’ve been pining for Lute since forever.”

“I have not. We barely even speak.”

“Did you honestly just lie to me? Because liars go to the underworld, and I’d hate for you to spend your eternity with Germaine and Rubin.” Seleni’s brown eyes stare at me, daring me to disagree again.

Fine. I clear my throat. “He walked me home because he is nice. I may or may not find him enjoyable, but it’s a non-issue because he doesn’t feel the same.”

She gives a soft squeal. “I knew you liked him! Although—” She swerves to me. “What about Vincent? I heard he tried to kiss you last night.”

My tongue sours. “He did.”

She giggles again, then utters a sigh. “A rich boy pursuing you, and yet your heart is for the poor one. That’s Tinning’s poetry right there, is what it is.” She puts a hand on her forehead. “I wish Beryll would try to kiss me. And then we could get married and—”

I roll my eyes. Ew. “If this is what you came down at the crack of dawn to talk about, I’m kicking you out. And then I’m telling Beryll you stuff the top lip of your corset.”

She launches up. “You wouldn’t! I’d die! Swear to me you won’t!”

“Then keep your Beryll fantasies to yourself. Now what do you want?”

Her mood sobers. “It’s about Beryll, actually. Rhen, I’m scared for him. That stuff Germaine and Rubin were saying in front of everyone—” She drops her voice. “I know the Labyrinth contest is as much a mind game as anything, but what if they were serious? What if they really are going to pull out the other players’ brains? You know—metaphorically?”

“I suspect they’ll try.”

“Wait, you think they are?” Her voice pitches as she shoves her face near mine. “Why? What do you know? Because when I brought it up to Beryll, he blew it off. But he’s nervous—you should’ve seen him playing darts with the group after you left. I thought someone was going to get impaled. And Beryll’s not like them, Rhen. He’s tender. If they do something, he’ll be the first to get injured, I just know it.”

I’m glad it’s still dark so she can’t see my face. Poor Beryll. And yet—she probably should be worried. We all should. It’s not just Beryll who could get injured. It’s all of them. All of us. Including me.

My thoughts stall.

Me.

Because I’ll be right there with them.

Seleni pulls back and glares through the dim. “You’re not saying anything, which means you don’t think Beryll will be okay either!”

I rub my face again and don’t know what to tell her. I need to make my cake deliveries and get back in time to prepare. I need to find man clothes. I need to figure out what Germaine might have in store, because she’s right—Germaine is an oaf and Beryll’s in trouble, just like me and Will and Sam. I choose my words carefully. “I don’t know what Germaine and Rubin are planning, but I overheard them talking of taking out the competition in a less-than-tasteful way.”

She grabs my shoulder. “I knew it. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing other than that. But we’ll warn them. Beryll and the others are smart—they’ll know what to do.” I squeeze her hand even as my mind races ahead to what we’ll need to look out for. How could Germaine target the contestants and Holm—but without Holm suspecting?

Her throat makes a choking sound. “I despise Germaine and his friends.”

“Me too. But it’ll be okay,” I promise. And I mean it.

She keeps one hand in mine and falls quiet except for the nervous tapping of her fingers against her stomach. I listen and watch the room gradually lighten along with the dull, wet skies and set my thoughts toward preparations. Not only do I need boy clothing, I need a way to disguise my face. And is there anything I’m allowed to bring with me? I frown. Every year at least one person attempts to sneak in a blade or notes, and every year that person comes flying back out through the giant hedge to land in the crowd.