49. Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Forty-Nine
Reyna
With each day that passes, the girls get stronger. Their strength and coordination improving so much that we can move on to sparring and the basics of combat. Not that I was formally trained in any of this, all my knowledge is second-hand, passed down to me by Astrid. But it's better than being unprepared to face the opponent Hekate has warned is coming.
“Well, you’ve certainly been busy for someone who supposedly died from the plague,” a male voice says from behind me, and I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as I turn to face Bjorn the now interim Lumin of the Farm District. His dark hair is shorn short, but the scar across his cheek remains menacing.
“Are you turning us in to the Shadows?” I ask, staring him down, feigning indifference when my heart is pumping a million miles a minute. If he turns us in,we will have to fight. If the Shadows find us, we wouldn’t be taken to mortis square. We would be forced into slavery, sold on the black market to anyone who wanted a human slave, and the Shadows would do whatever they could to break us. No, we would have to fight, and if we don’t win, we would all have to die in that fight. Better to die somewhat free than in chains.
“I’m here to help,” Bjorn says surveying the woman sparring, practicing the newest of maneuvers and a couple of my favorite takedowns. “Women deserve to be able to protect themselves as much as men, and it’s stupid for the king to try to take that away. It’s the same reason I looked the other way when I found out Erik was teaching Astrid and the others in my training complex. I would make sure it was cleared out for them in the mornings,” Bjorn says, shaking his head as if remembering fond memories.
“And you’ve trained soldiers before?” I ask, looking at him disbelieving. This has got to be some kind of ploy to get us in trouble. To get us caught. “What do you want in return?”
“I want for us to beat whatever it is that is coming,” Bjorn says, and the look in his eye is genuine, the determination and fear that I find there. I nod. It would be helpful to have someone who knows what they’re doing. If he has trained soldiers then we’ll be able to fight like them. It’ll give us a higher chance at victory.
“Okay, you can help, but no one outside of you can know I’m alive,” I say and before he can swear his secrecy, the ground begins to quake as the black wasps that took residence in the shadows of the dome come swarming like a wave over the district. Their shadow blocks out the moss of the dome, coating the city in an unusual darkness. “What the Hel?” I ask out loud as I watch this unfold, everyone in the ruins freezes in horror.
“Get to the cellar!” I scream as I turn to lead the way to the twin wooden doors that are on the opposite side of what remains of the stone structure. The wasps tunnel through the streets, as I turn to throw the hatch of the cellar open. The other girls behind me file in, and I go to join them when I’m being shoved up against the stone wall as the wasps barely miss us. The cellar doors bang closed without me to hold them off, blocking off the other girls from the evil bugs. His face is inches from mine as he cages me against the stone wall. The wasps rage around us. The scar on his face looks a little less haggard, giving him a dangerous sort of look. I can’t stop my fingers as they reach up to explore the marred skin. How did he survive something like that? I’ve never even been in a true fight, and he’s escaped death. I don’t know how I thought I could lead us to victory without his help. Our breaths mingle with our nearness, and I feel something expand between us. A want. He’s already so close, his lips part as if he feels it too. His eyes search my face, and the wasps around us dissipate. Spiriting back to their hiding place as Bjorn takes two steps backward eyeing me like he’s not sure what to think. He walks over to the entrance to the cellar, throwing the door open.
“The coast is clear!” he calls as the girls begin to file out. I check the street. Finding bodies littering the ground where the wasps invaded and abandoned them. Blisters bubble along their skin mimicking what I thought was the illness. But this isn’t an illness. This is something else entirely. Something that I’m not sure I know how to fight. I’m scared training these girls isn’t going to be enough.
Fifteen women hunt me down over the next few days, begging to join the fight. This grows our group to twenty-five, not including me and Bjorn. My mind stops on Bjorn, caressing the thought like a gem. I have to press those feelings down and shove them away. I have no time to worry about romance, or the fact that he’s the same age as my best friend’s dad and currently running our entire district. I have to shake the thoughts from my head turning back to the thoughts of our small militia. We get together every day, conditioning, running through drills, doing everything we can to be ready for what’s coming. We gathered early today, some of the other girls wanting to get in some extra practice. I’m not exactly watching over them as I try to quickly fold my laundry that I was trying to get done before everyone showed up. I’ve been living at the ruins since everyone in the district thinks I died of the plague. I can’t exactly go home without blowing my cover. I’m just thankful the Shadows don’t come out here. They don’t care enough to, which is to our advantage.
“Don’t touch my stuff,” someone from the yard shouts, and I stand knowing this isn’t going in a good direction.
“I didn’t,” another girl squawks as I step into the courtyard. I see Cordelia, a small woman standing at only five foot two, her curly hair giving her an extra inch of height with its volume, shrinking away from the five-foot-seven Marissa, whose pin-straight blonde hair matches the rest of the angles across her body. Her bones protrude from her skin in some places, her thin finger is pressed into the other’s chest. “I didn’t take your stupid watch,” Cordelia says, trying to brush the finger off her chest, and Marissa rears back her fist, letting it fly. Only for me to catch it in my palm as I step between them.
“We’re supposed to be ladies,” I call so that everyone can hear. “The epitome of Demendian etiquette, and while I understand the times we find ourselves in are stressful, it's not an excuse for us to forget our manners. It’s not an excuse for us to forget what differentiates us from the men.” I meet Cordelia’s eyes who divert her gaze as she nods, and Marissa who meets it defiantly, but nods her acceptance of the rules along with the twenty-three other women who have now gathered around us.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” I call signaling the start of the session.