14
1017 Words
I wasn’t broken, though. I wasn’t.
Jan would remind me to be strong. He’d come for me soon, once the Luminary Council realized they needed me. I just had to survive until then.
“We must work with what we have.” Sarannai grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward her. The calluses on her hand scraped my skin. “Put on something more appropriate for cleaning. Then you can eat.”
Fear and hunger rolled through me as she shoved and I stumbled toward a pile of clothes. Quickly, afraid of what she might do if I was too slow, I picked out trousers and a shirt that might fit me. Both were made of rough, cheap cotton that might have been blended with nettles or sea urchins before the weaving and sewing began. There weren’t undergarments, but even if there had been, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to wear them. All these things looked secondhand. Maybe fifth.
At least I was able to wipe the spit off my hand without drawing notice. But what I wouldn’t give for soap.
With my new clothes bundled under my arm, I scanned the mess hall for a place to change. Yarrow and Sarannai were still discussing my uselessness, offering no instructions as to where I should go, and the other prisoners were finishing their meals. A few were up, sliding wooden trays onto a rack at the kitchen window. Three of them leered at me—young men with ashy skin and ragged hair; they must have been here for a long time to look so washed-out.
There didn’t seem to be anywhere private, and I was hesitant to leave the room, lest Sarannai think I was trying to escape.
After a moment, she glanced back at me. “Not dressed yet? Don’t you know how to do it?” She turned back to Yarrow. “Where’d you get this one?”
Oh. She expected me to change right here. In front of everyone.
I wanted to sink into the floor. I wasn’t shy about my body. That was the one thing I knew was acceptable. But to strip in front of all these strangers? I’d never imagined such a degrading situation. I united crowds. I inspired them. I did not bare myself.
And while there’d been no direct threats against my person, there’d been mention of what a girl might be useful for here. I didn’t want to encourage that line of thought. Gerel’s assurance about the warriors was one thing, but she hadn’t said anything about the prisoners. A few were still watching. Grinning.
Instead of stripping down, I turned my back to the room and pulled up the trousers underneath my dress. They didn’t fit well, but I pressed all five buttons into their holes. The shirt was trickier, but I managed a complicated maneuver that involved putting clothes on top of clothes and then removing what had been deemed inappropriate.
Before they could take the ruined dress from me, I shoved it deep into the pile of clothes so I could get it back later. The dress was mine. It was one of the only things I owned in this whole place. They couldn’t have it.
“Go eat.” Yarrow jerked his head toward the nearest table. “You have two minutes left.”
I wanted to argue that I’d been here on time and I was only delayed because they’d made me change clothes, but that seemed like a good way to get in more trouble. So as the other prisoners made their way toward Sarannai to collect buckets, I pushed past until I found a window with a tray of food already prepared.
A girl my age peeked out from the kitchen beyond. Seven flat braids held her hair in place, the ends reaching past her shoulders. It was long, which meant she wasn’t a warrior trainee. She might be a prisoner, too.
I risked a smile as I took my tray and headed to a table.
Two minutes. Less now. I’d never been a fast eater, so I went for the meat first, hoping it would fill me up. It was cool, greasy, and not very good, but I forced it down. No way was I throwing away food again, no matter how terrible it tasted.
The mess hall was almost empty, all the others heading out with their buckets.
I tore through the bread as fast as possible. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, but it was filled with raisins and bits of almonds.
“Soft girl!” Sarannai snapped, and pointed at the buckets. “Enough eating. Get to work.”
Yarrow strode out of the room, sparing only a second to throw a smirk over his shoulder, as if to say he didn’t expect me to last long.
I downed the mug of lukewarm tea as I stood, then hurried toward the buckets. “I’m ready,” I said.
Sarannai slapped me. Red flared across my vision, followed by a burst of sharp, hot pain in my cheek. I’d forgotten I wasn’t supposed to speak.
But that was all it took: one mistake.
My fingers curled over my face. The skin felt hot already.
The old woman watched me, waiting to see if I’d make a sound. She ran her tongue over her teeth, sucking at something stuck in there.
I swallowed back a whimper and forced my hand back to my side. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. In the back of my mind, I counted the tables (thirteen), chairs (fifty-one), columns (ten), and noorestones (thirty).
“Fine. A trial run, I suppose. Clean this mess hall. I’ll come back before lunch and look it over. If you’ve done a good job, you can stay on. If not, you’ll never leave first level.” With that, she headed out of the room, straight backed and hands at her sides curled like claws.
I watched the door for a moment longer, wondering if I could rush out and get lost in the Pit.
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