Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(9)

A side door to the building next to us opened and a line of servants filed out. Ruby beckoned them forward.

“There are only three rules while you are here: kill your competition, do not get caught doing so, and do not harm anyone outside of the audition. If any member of the Left Hand has significant evidence of your involvement in a death—enough to secure an arrest and sentencing were you brought before court—you will be disqualified. If we believe your actions caused injury or could have harmed anyone not involved, you will be disqualified or killed. At our discretion. Any questions?” Ruby raised his head, blinding us with flickers of red light, and clapped. “Excellent. A servant will take you to your room. I hope to see fewer of you at breakfast.”

Ruby meandered over to the soldiers we’d been asked to kill upon arrival and dismissed us with an offhanded wave.

A free-for-all. I didn’t need a servant getting in my way with laundry and cleaning and whatever else they did. They might be great for gossip, but the last thing I needed while auditioning was nosy questions about my clothes.

Or an extra person who could rat me out to the Left Hand.

“Auditioner Twenty-Three?” A servant wearing a plain gray uniform trimmed in blue with no jewelry or weapons bowed her head to me. “If you’d come with me to your room.”

She led me through a series of unobtrusive servants’ hallways. Patches of rough mortar from recent renovations dotted the walls, and wooden support beams crisscrossed the ceiling above us. Just enough grip to climb and enough space to hide. My servant opened a door in the middle of a hall.

“A bath is prepared—”

“By who?” I asked. The room was small and drafty—the shuttered windows were glassless and the door off-kilter. A washing tub rested in one corner and a ratty straw mattress in the other. Rath’s orphanage horror stories at least had raised beds for the kids to share.

Of course, we’d probably ruin everything with blood. I’d not waste the good bedding on us either.

She inhaled sharply. “I prepared a bath, for bathing, for you.”

“I know what bathing is.” I checked the lock on the door—weak and easy to pick—and the window shutters. “You clean it too?”

“I did.”

I prodded the pile of fresh black clothes on the bed and ran a finger along the tub’s rim. Curls of salted, mineralized steam dampened my sleeves. “Where’d you get the water?”

“The well. I am a servant, and as such, I answer to Dimas, not the Left Hand. If you take offense with how I draw your bath, you may take it up with him.”

I leaned against the tub. “Not taking offense. I just don’t fancy dying before the competition even starts.”

“I will endeavor to keep poison out of your baths and meals then,” she said dryly. “You’ve never worked with servants?”

I gestured for her to shut the door. I didn’t need everyone knowing my whole life story. I’d robbed a few servants and known folks who’d taken scullery maid jobs, but that was it.

“You’ll know me only as Maud.” She settled against the door, hands clasped behind her. “I’ll cook your meals, except breakfast, do all your cleaning, washing, and other such chores. But I’ve no obligation to help you win. I report any suspicions, or I lose my job.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep the suspicious bloodstains to a minimum then.”

“That would be preferable.” Her mouth twitched into a tight-lipped smile. “But the black should hide most of the blood, and I can remove any stains that aren’t.”

“Keep my clothes clean and the other auditioners far from my things. No questions or gossiping about me. Not about my scars, my clothes, or my measurements. I dress how I like to be addressed—he, she, or they. It’s simple enough.” I ticked each point off on my fingers for emphasis. Even when I spelled it out for nosy people clear as I could, they couldn’t grasp why.

I’d settled for hand-me-down clothes and shit lodgings for life. I wasn’t compromising me. Our Queen preached acceptance and peace. They’d accept me.

They had to.

“If I make a mistake addressing you, you may correct me.” She swept past me to the bath, touched the water, and tapped her damp finger to her tongue. “If it helps you to know, Opal’s servant is paid five pearls per month. I take pride in my job, and I need it to survive. I will not err in serving you.”

I whistled. Enough to keep four people well and fed for a long while. I’d never heard of serving jobs paying in pearls. My savings were in plain, old copper halves, and sixty-four made a silver.

“Nothing wrong with being in it for the money,” I said. If she wanted it that badly, she’d be more open to helping me. With nothing but three loose rules and a broken door between me and the others, I’d be dead by morning. “Do I get any money while I’m here? I’m going to need some things to stay alive.”

“The Left Hand set aside a small amount for the auditioners assuming some wouldn’t have the appropriate funds.” She pulled out a purse no bigger than her hand.

“Twine, wire, mice—”

“What?”

I sighed. “For testing my food. Mice, bells, ax, hammer, nails, and a better blanket.” The door was useless, and I’d have to nail it shut and string the entryway with wire. That’d at least slow attackers down. “You get that, I’ll bathe, and knock twice when you get back. Bring me breakfast tomorrow too. Something small.”