Accepting the paraly was worth it, if only to see the look on Leon Bates' face. Regan was pacing her cell when he stormed in, backed up by three knights. His eyes burned into hers, his expression darker than the grime coating her handcuffs. He must have spent years hunting the raiders down, only to free her days after catching her.
Regan grinned broadly, unable to help herself. It was in her nature. Knights and raiders are like cats and dogs. "So am I officially in the Blood Moon Festival now?"
In response, he threw a balled-up leather jacket between the bars. It landed in a muddy puddle, splashing her shins. Her jacket looked exactly the same as Cassian's, except there was an empty patch where his had two symbols, one for House Tudor and the other for the king.
"Hey," Regan said. "What happened to the symbols?"
"Not my concern," Leon replied flatly, gesturing for her hand.
"Well, I did not steal my own symbols." Regan splayed her bare palms to prove her point.
Leon sneered and grabbed her wrist, jerking her hand through the bars. Then, to her surprise, he began removing her binds. She thought he would stop at her wrists, but he did everything – wrists, ankles, and fingers – and no doubt died a little more with each freed limb. Once her hands were free, Regan flexed her fingers for the first time in weeks, letting the Divine back in like a rush of static electricity. With one swipe, she could throw Leon and his knights against the dungeon wall and book it to freedom. The knights must be aware of her power, yet none of them looked nervous.
"Follow me," Leon ordered, striding for the dungeon steps. "Cassian awaits."
"Is he taking me to the Blood Moon Festival?" Regan shrugged on her jacket, folding up the sleeves to hide the mud stains.
"No, he's taking you to Skydescent. It's a castle where contestants train and form allies leading up to the festival. Though I doubt you'll have much success in either."
As Regan left her cell, one of Leon's knights shoved her in the back. She stumbled into her cell's iron bar, her head connecting with a loud thud. Another person might respond with confusion or fear, but Regan only knew one way to respond to violence, and that was with more violence. She whipped around, her fists high, only to realize the knight didn't want to fight. He was biting his lip as if trying not to smile, his arms hanging limp by his side, his head tilted as if to give better access. Releasing her binds wasn't a sign of trust, Regan realized. Leon wanted her to attack them. He was dangling a carrot in front of her face, waiting for her to lunge.
Regan dropped her fists and turned to Leon. "Does the Blood Moon Festival have some rule against violence? Like, if I give your man a bruise, l get disqualified?"
Leon's face darkened. Without another word, he turned on his heel, and as he led the way down long stone corridors, his knights were relentless. Obviously, the jig was up, and she wasn't going to give them an excuse to have her disqualified. Now they played a different game, one called 'look how fun it is to strike someone who can't strike back'. They pulled her hair, shoved her shoulders, kicked her boots, and hissed insults at her.
It was a relief to finally step outdoors. Weeks in the dungeons made the air that much fresher, the sun that much brighter. Across the courtyard, Cassian awaited her, leaning against the side of a carriage.
"Thank you," Cassian called to the knights, striding toward them. He was rushing and trying to look like he wasn't. "I'll take it from here."
"Are you sure you don't want any extra hands?" Leon said. "The road to Skydescent is long, and if she escapes, it's on your head."
To Cassian's credit, he didn't hesitate. "No, I'll take it from here. Good day, sir."
The knights didn't move. One still had a piece of Regan's hair wrapped around his fist.
Cassian's smile dropped. "Good day, sir."
"As you insist," Leon said colorlessly. Then he gripped Regan's shoulder and lowered his crusty lips to her ear. "This here?" he whispered. "This was nothing. They'll tear you apart, raider." And with that, the knights left.
Cassian watched them go, frowning. "Sorry for that. I've never seen Leon so – I mean, wow."
"I think one of them stole part of my uniform." Regan pinched the empty patch on her jacket. "Along with several clumps of my hair."
Cassian bit back a smile. "That's how all pledge's uniforms come. You earn your crests once you earn a dragon and a place in a squad."
"What'd you call me?"
"A pledge. Bonding with a dragon at the Blood Moon Festival doesn't automatically make you a rider. Once you have a dragon, you must pass three years of training at Skydescent. First as a pledge, then as a rookie, then as a grad, short for graduate."
"But, uh, I don't have any money." Clearly. All they let her keep was the clothing on her back.
"So?" Cassian said.
"How will I afford training?"
"Training is fully funded by House sponsors. In exchange, you'll fly for their squad, under their colors. And it's for the best that you keep your plans to fly for my squad a secret. If people get — ahem — crazy ideas that I was holding your parlay ransom to force you to fly for my squad, it would be highly frowned upon."
"Highly frowned upon?" Regan's eyes danced in the sunlight. "Is that another way of saying 'definitely illegal'?"
"No, because I am not forcing you to do anything." Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, skewering Regan with a pointed stare. "Flying for House Tudor is a mere suggestion."
Regan paused, sensing her parlay was teetering on a very thin line. "A suggestion," she said slowly, gauging his reaction with every word, "that I am more than happy to take."
He smiled approvingly, and once again, her parlay was safe.
"So these three years of training ... do they count toward my six-year sentence to the king?"
"Good catch." Cassian opened the carriage door. "Quick wits like that will serve you well at Skydescent."
Regan squinted at him, unimpressed. "So do they?"
"Nope!" Cassian replied cheerfully, sliding into the carriage. Regan followed a beat later, her eyes dim. Cassian pretended not to notice her jolt and clutch the walls when the driver took off. She had never rode in a carriage before.
They rested midway through the journey, and while Cassian pissed in the woods, Regan didn't even consider trying to escape. With no money and no contacts, it was only a matter of time before someone caught her, wether that be the knights or Drax. Best bide her time and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. So instead of running, she haggled with a street vendor, trading her compass for a bottle of rum. Not her best negotiating, but she only had one possession she couldn't afford to lose — a small bronze pendant. The charm, a flat circle engraved with star shaped indents, was cracked in two. Sammy had one half, and she wore the other half around her neck as often as her tattoo, touching it every hour or so, as if she needed a reminder that it hadn't ghosted her like Sammy had. Her mouth twisting, Regan took another swig of rum. Suddenly, Regan realized someone was watching her. Cassian had returned, his stare pinned on the bottle.
"Ay," Regan said, whipping her mouth on the cuff of her jacket. "Want some?"
"Sure," Cassian said. Then he chucked it into the woods.
Regan gaped at him. "My rum!"
"Do you have any idea how unprofessional that is? No pledge would be caught within fifty feet of a bottle this close to the competition."
"But... my rum..."
Cassian was already striding past her, grumbling, "Welcome to Skydescent."
"I don't think you grasp what you're walking into," Cassian said, once they were back in the carriage. The horse pulled them down the road, the trodden dirt path somehow less rocky than their conversation.
"I wasn't trying to have a party or anything," Regan muttered. That's what the high brows assume. They didn't grow up in an orphanage that handed out drinks like candy, as rewards for finishing chores or a quick way to shut the criers up. 'If the budget is between buying food or buying medicine,' the caretakers liked to say, 'why let the children starve when ale is ten times cheaper than pain relief?' Made perfect sense to her.
"It's not just about the rum," Cassian said. "You are an anomaly. The vast majority of pledges were not handed an entry into the Blood Moon Festival. They are scouted young and then spend their childhoods turning themselves into weapons. In their eyes, you committed crimes deserving the death sentence and got awarded with the very thing they worked their entire lives for. If you really want a fair chance, you will pick a new name and leave 'Regan Black' in the dungeons."
"Alright, I get it," Regan said. "I'll behave."
"Behaving might not be enough," Cassian said. "It's common knowledge that a raider was given a parlay, but no one knows which raider or what they look like. Only Leon Bates and I know who you truly are."
"Leon Bates despises me. There's no way he would keep my secret."
"Parlays are designed to give their users the best chance possible. Leon Bates was sworn to keep your identity a secret by a blood oath. Trust me, not even his own kin are privy to your information. If you change your name and hide your tattoo, you can leave the burden of your reputation behind."
"But what's my name got to do with it? People knew me by my alias. The name Regan Black has nothing to do with Crenshaw's Pet or the raiders."
"Yes, but the name Black has certain ... connotations." He tugged the back of his nape, not quite meeting her eyes. "I don't have any personal biases, but others might make connections."
"I am not ashamed of who I am," Regan huffed. She was named Regan after the street she was abandoned at as a babe, so what? She was named Black like every other orphan, bastard, and unwanted child in the kingdom, so what?
"But are you willing to die for it?"
Regan startled. "I thought violence wasn't allowed at Skydescent. The knights could hit me because they're not competing. Another pledge couldn't have done that."
"Unwarranted violence is not allowed, but there is a difference between what is allowed and what actually occurs, between playing by the rules and playing fair." Cassian caught her eyes. "A little shame never killed anyone. In this case, it might even save your life."
Regan could change her name, stop drinking, and jump through whatever hoop Cassian gave her, but she couldn't become a different person in the length of a carriage ride. If her success depended on her ability to blend in with the elites, she might as well tie the noose herself. Best case scenario, there would be other parlays around to share the target.
"Look, if you're ever confused about how to act, think of what the raiders would tell you to do –" Sighing, Cassian grabbed her wrist and pushed her dagger away from her teeth. She had been trying to pick a thread of meat. " – and then do the opposite. If you don't know what to say, 'I'm keeping my head down' and 'I'm just grateful to be here' are your two best friends. And if you're hiding something, now is the time to say to come clean, before we arrive at Skydescent. Is there anything from your past – personal or raider – that is going to cause trouble?"
Regan eyed Cassian at length, wondering how much she could trust him.
"Anything at all?" he prompted.
"No." Regan offered him a lopsided grin. "I'm just grateful to be here. Just keeping my head down."