1. Initiation Day #2
The pressure on Halla’s back increased, and though Halla knew there was no point in struggling, she couldn’t help the instinct that made her thrash against her restraints.
Ignoring her, Fenris dragged Halla along by her arm, kicking open the door of the nearest small building and flinging Halla inside.
Gray walls matched gray floors. A wash basin sat in the back corner, cupboards lined the walls, and an old woman bent over a small desk with a bright light in the center.
Though there were several other desks around her, she toiled alone, her back a misaligned hump as she labored over her work.
The woman’s gnarled fingers layered strands of hair over the mannequin head that sat on her table.
She briefly looked up at Halla’s arrival before turning her attention back to the wig.
“Hair and clothes, then escort her to Barrack Four.” Fenris ordered before turning toward the door. With one foot across the threshold, he turned to bare his teeth at Halla. “Behave, little girl, or I’ll be back.”
Halla flinched as the door slammed shut.
The old woman sighed, rising to her feet. “Come here.”
Halla jolted at the gravelly sound. Lined with wrinkles particularly around the eyes and mouth, the woman’s face was as foreboding as her tone.
Halla followed her toward the large bin on the far wall, the handcuffs digging into her wrists.
Yanking open a cabinet, the woman shoved clothes into Halla’s arms.
“Put that on and clean the blood off your face.”
Halla huffed, raising her arms and clinking the handcuffs together.
The older woman glared, as if the restraints were Halla’s fault, and fished in the great wide pockets of her apron until she produced a key. Her eyes speared Halla with unflinching steel. “Don’t even think about trying anything.”
As the cuffs fell away, blood rushed back into Halla’s fingers. She cried out in relief and pain at the abrupt sensation. The woman thrust the clothing at her again. Halla accepted the thick gray shirt and sweats, then looked for somewhere to change in private.
The woman’s eyes narrowed with impatience. “I don’t have all day.”
Cheeks flaming, Halla stripped, swapping out her filthy clothes for the scratchy garments before turning to the basin.
Letting the freezing water rush over her fingers, she wished there was a mirror, anything to look at herself in, but the metal walls were non-reflective.
She dipped her face down and ran her fingers over her eyes, gentle with the left one that still throbbed from Fenris’ assault.
A sudden tug at her scalp was followed by a loud snip. Twirling toward the woman, Halla flung her hand to the back of her head. Hanging from the woman’s right hand was a pair of scissors; her left held a long lock of Halla’s hair.
Halla grasped the ends of her cut hair, her eyes wide with horror. “Why would you do that?”
“Turn around.” The woman reached for another handful of hair, her scissors flashing before Halla could protest.
She couldn’t stop the tremble in her whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Snip.
“Be grateful it’s me and not Fenris. He doesn’t care what the scissors cut.”
Snip. Snip.
Halla’s eyes smarted as the tears welled up within them. She stared into the water basin. She would not cry. Not as she felt every snip, or as she watched the stray blonde strands fall in the water. Her fingers clutched the basin’s metal edge as she swallowed the whimper in her throat.
Done, the woman released her. Halla’s fingers frantically searched the newly exposed scalp.
Even the stale air raised goosebumps across the back of her neck.
She refused to acknowledge the woman beside her until she saw the clear bag in the woman’s hand stuffed with Halla’s blonde hair.
Halla’s eyes drifted to the woman’s work table, where the black wig lay unfinished. She shivered.
The old woman led Halla out of the room and across the yard to the long buildings Halla had seen earlier.
Painted on the side of each was a number.
As they passed by, Halla’s hands returned to her neck again and again, brushing the edges of her shorn hair.
It hung just at her ears, and although it spiked out in all directions, Halla was grateful the woman had at least made it even all around.
They stopped before a building marked with the number four. Without a word, the woman opened the door and shoved Halla within, the door slamming behind her with the thunk of the lock.
Halla froze. Dozens of eyes landed on her face and all noise within the building ceased.
Bunks lined each side of the long room, reaching all the way to the back of the building.
On almost every bunk, a child sat, staring at Halla.
Though some looked to be around her age, others seemed older, maybe fourteen or even fifteen.
Halla’s lips went dry, matching the parchedness of her throat as the children continued to stare.
Only one boy toward the back ignored her presence, nibbling at an apple in his palm.
When a girl rose from her bunk, moving toward Halla, the other children looked away, returning to their food and hushed conversations.
The thin girl stopped in front of Halla, letting Halla examine her as openly as she did in return. She was close enough that Halla could see the bruises decorating her bare skin, particularly around her wrists. A thick bandage wrapped around her neck.
“I’m Juni,” she said.
It took only a moment for Halla to match the voice to the face.
She’d seen this girl before on the slave auction in Perle.
Worse, Halla had heard her cries in the forest, begging for someone to save her as the thraell dragged her away.
Halla gulped, wondering if the guilt in her heart was written in her eyes, but the other girl only looked at her curiously.
Her black hair was like Anara’s, but it had been cut short and ragged around her ears.
Dark circles clung to her honey-colored eyes.
Seeming undaunted by Halla’s lack of a response, Juni pointed to Halla’s throbbing eye. “How’d you get that?”
Halla lifted her hand to touch her tender, swollen eyebrow. “The thraell hit me.”
“You must have put up a fight.” There was an odd note of praise in Juni’s voice. “That’s good. Only fighters survive here.”
Halla looked away, unable to accept Juni’s praise when she could still hear the girl’s screams from the forest. She lifted a hand to tug at her braid only to find empty air. A sob crawled up her throat.
Stop it, Halla , she thought to herself. You are Ieunn, and you will not cry. You are beautiful and strong no matter how long your hair is.
“What’s your name?” Juni prompted.
“Halla,” she whispered.
“Come on, Halla,” Juni said. “Let’s find you a bunk. You hungry?”
Halla shook her head; she couldn’t eat if she wanted to.
They passed the rows of bunks filled with children who hunched over miniscule portions of food.
Some jerky here. A piece of bread there.
A can of green beans. There were just as many boys as there were girls.
Some stared at Halla as she passed, their faces openly curious.
Others ignored her. And some, Halla could hear, were crying into their mats.
Juni led her down the aisle, farther into the back where a handful of beds lay empty.
Halla stared at the bunk before her, unable to move. “Where am I?”
“These are the barracks,” Juni said. “We’re in the thraell ’s main compound in the city.”
Halla looked around, noting the dark-haired boy who’d ignored her earlier seated on a bunk nearby. He picked at the apple in his hand but seemed to be listening to their conversation. Or perhaps Halla was just being paranoid.
“Are you all second-borns?” Halla asked.
“A few.” Juni sat on the bunk—Halla’s bunk. “Some of us are here to pay off our parents’ debts; others were orphaned with nowhere to go, so the thraell found a use for them.”
“How long are we here?”
“Some are here for a week or two, depending on when the next auction is. They don’t have them regularly, just depends on their stock.” Juni’s words were bitter. “Some are here longer, doing work to line the thraell ’s pockets.”
The dark-haired boy turned his head in their direction. “Better to be here than the third option.”
Halla’s stomach clenched. So he had been listening. She faced him fully. “What’s the third option?”
His onyx eyes met Halla’s, and her stomach flipped. His dark hair matched his eyes. He was beautiful.
“The Empress pays well for new slaves,” the boy said. “The thraell consider it an honor when she makes a purchase from them.”
“We could be sent to the Empress?” Halla squeaked.
“Stop scaring her, Kai.” Juni’s voice shook, with anger or fear, Halla didn’t know.
The boy—Kai—leaned his head against the barrack wall, looking straight ahead. “I’ve been here for a year. I’ve seen it.” He peeked at Halla from the corner of his eyes. “Just keep your head down and don’t attract attention. If you’re lucky, you’ll be sold at the next auction.”
Halla’s knees shook. She’d hardly turned back to her bunk before collapsing upon it, not comprehending whatever Juni said next.
Halla pulled her knees into her chest and stared at the metal wall.
As the pressure behind her eyes mounted, Halla reassured herself that even Ieunn must have cried at least once during her imprisonment.
Yet, even after granting herself permission, Halla’s tears would not come. There was an emptiness inside that allowed her thoughts to wander until they condensed on her only hope.
Lara, where are you?