Chapter 14
Fourteen
Morgan
Iscrub my hand over my cheek along the lines where finger-shaped bruises mark me. That blasted harpy. The entitled always take time out of their busy schedules to lord their superiority over people they deem as weak.
It’s one of their favorite pastimes and one of the things I hate about mean girls in general.
They believe they’re invincible and can do or have whatever they want.
In my old life, I wouldn’t have hesitated before hitting Evie back and sending her spiraling into yesterday. In my old life, I was on equal footing with her and her noble family.
Curse her. Straight into the mine pits. Only in my fondest dreams. Those are in pretty short supply these days.
I grind my teeth down to nubs and flick the feather duster along the intricate lines of a golden candelabra.
I can bear the insult of Evie slapping me.
It’s a little physical pain. Nothing I haven’t handled before.
And there will certainly be more to come in this place.
But knowing there is information in DragonSpear that might have saved my mother—knowledge deliberately kept from us?
Books that could have turned the tide of the battle in our favor but we had no access to them?
It’s worse. It’s so much worse than a slap.
I glare at the candelabra and the dull gleam of ancient gold. Easy luxury. Hidden knowledge.
A scheme to keep the masses ignorant and grant power to a few.
The information in those books is taught to only a handful of people and whoever is deemed acceptable by a committee culling through applicants. So few. The administration and the crown are intentionally keeping people in the dark, to make sure they’re controllable.
That way they won’t rise. They won’t fight. And they certainly won’t win.
“I was blind,” I whisper.
I’ve been blind in more ways than one.
There’s barely any dust in this room, which means I’ve been sent to cover the tracks of someone who knows how to do their job better than me. A punishment, whether I deserve it or not.
Milkin has decided I always deserve it. The target on my chest is in place and the threat of the mines looms like an executioner’s ax.
I haven’t earned my place here yet. Or maybe Milkin is so busy overseeing her army of cleaners that she can’t keep track of who is where, although I doubt it.
Too bad for her. The oversight, real or imagined, has given me a brief moment of solitude, which is in short supply these days.
I throw the feather duster aside and watch it clatter away with a cold detachment.
“The books in these classrooms are precious.” My mouth waters at the information inside those volumes.
If I’m going to be here, then I’ll make the most of it, and I’ll read whatever I can until someone catches me. A hollow laugh falls from my lips and I stalk toward the bookshelves.
I’ll steal the knowledge they’ve hoarded from people like my mother, and if I ever make it out of this scorched awful place, I’ll use it against them.
The burning fires in my soul I’d never really looked at before Fallkirk was destroyed are now too great to ignore. Revenge. Spite. Those two things are my entire personality and I’m not mad about the loss of the softer aspects, like love and forgiveness.
Ryson and the crown want to keep us down? They want to keep us stupid?
Then I’ll happily play the part required of me until I’m close enough to spit in the general’s face. Then I’ll bring his dragon to the ground and I’ll—
I shake my head, interrupting those delightful visions of vengeance. “I’ll burn the dragon alive? Now you really do sound stupid, Morgan.”
I only manage a chapter before Daisy stalks by the door and stops when she catches sight of me.
“Are you serious?” Her scoff is a thing of beauty. “What are you doing?”
I snap the book shut.
“If you think I’m not going to tell Milkin about this…” Daisy trails off and lets the threat hang between us.
“Fine, tell her.” I slide the book back on the shelf. “But check the room first. You’ll see I’ve already finished my duties.”
Daisy fluffs, clucking like poultry, and does exactly that. When her index finger comes away from multiple surfaces spotless, she starts to twitch.
“Come on,” she snaps for lack of something better to say. “It’s time for dinner.”
I follow the sullen set of her bony shoulders down into the caverns of maid territory.
Later that night, the rest of the large dormitory room falls into the quiet of sleep. I’m wide awake with my mind going a million miles an hour. My stomach is full. Milkin never came to tell me off for slacking, so either Daisy didn’t say anything or Milkin didn’t care.
It’s no use trying to sleep. I’m too keyed up, full of manic energy with no outlet. Scrubbing the floors isn’t a mindless meditation. It’s an exercise in futility. Clearly, reading while I’m on the job isn’t the best use of my time, either.
Daisy keeping her juicy secret to herself is a one off. I’m sure of it.
If I want to absorb more than a chapter at a time, then I’ll have to give something up. In this case, it’s sleep, and it doesn’t cost me much when I’m already awake.
Rather than forcing myself to memorize the curve of the ceiling, I sit up and glance around at the sleeping bodies around me. Milkin has her own private room. She’s too good to sleep with the rest of the staff and listen to the combined drone of hundreds of collective snores.
Like anyone can rest easily with so much noise.
The thin blanket falls away and I press my feet flat against the cold stone and wince, the sensation chilling all the way up to my hips. Shivering, I cross the room.
I used to walk in the village when sleep was miles away. The trails at home were so familiar, so cherished, I could have maneuvered them with my eyes closed.
DragonSpear is an unfamiliar maze with traps and pitfalls around every corner.
I’ve barely had a chance to explore outside of the treks between jobs.
From one room to another, from the dragon aerie and back into this subterranean gym too old for the sensibilities of the precious students above, I don’t really know my way around.
But I can get back to the classroom. I can scan the book on battle tactics cover to cover without anyone watching over my shoulder.
I wrap my arms around my torso, the nightshift given to all the servants making no sound with my footsteps. The place is a mystery.
There’s nothing interesting on this level.
It’s much smaller than the rest of the academy and makes me think this is one of the original areas.
The finishes are old, crusty, rusted. Paint flecks away into piles on the floor—surely there are more important areas to clean than the space we call home—and most of the space is given up to the kitchens.
The main floors have everything I’ve ever needed. That night, I find the classroom, and grab a pile of books to explore. The following night, rather than going for the books, I explore the first floor. And the following night I hit the second floor.
My nightly rambles eventually grant me a boon.
Several days later, after exchanging my nightgown for a pair of clean and loose trousers stolen from the laundry, I head into a private gym just as luxe as everything else given to the nobility.
It’s the size of our dining room at home, large and intimidating. The gym has everything I could ever need.
The walls are decorated with racks of weapons, the mats soft underfoot, and the reinforced walls keep the noise within the room contained.
I found out after accidentally knocking over several long lines of weights.
They clattered against each other and slipped to the ground, and no one came running.
If the owner of the private gym ever makes use of it, I’ve never seen a hint of their existence. The space is kept spotless but there’s never anything out of place. Another week goes by before I’m comfortable using it on my own.
Someone’s got to.
If I’m going to be trapped in this hellscape existence then I’ll make the most of my time. Sleep is really a small thing to sacrifice to sneak into the private gym late at night and train.
Mopping won’t get me stronger. Or maybe it will, but I don’t need bulky arms. I need to work every part of me.
Dusting isn’t going to help me think through battle tactics and find a way to combat Roman Ryson’s devastation.
All of those activities are designed to keep me weak and docile, compliant in a way I’ve never been. I’m not the type to roll over and show my belly so why would I start now?
Senses on high alert, I creep along the halls into the private gym and slip through the door. The locks click into place behind me. The space is dim, lit only by the distant glow of the waxing gibbous moon outside. It’s a small matter to light a few candles.
I move unerringly toward the center of the room and work my neck from side to side to loosen the tension after another pointless day of cleaning.
There’s no one here to spot my form now, but the training my mom and sister gave me runs deep. Years of drilling these exercises together before everything went to the Void. Elspeth always used to hammer home the importance of hand-to-hand combat.
“You won’t always have your mount,” she’d say with an air of superiority as we sparred.
“I don’t have one anyway,” I’d joked back, dodging her next strike.
“With that attitude, Morgi, you never will!”
Elspeth had her unicorn. I had nothing. I hadn’t been chosen by a mount yet, which was supposed to change when I came to DragonSpear as a student.
Now those dreams are gone and destroyed.
I have myself. Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my arms overhead, stretching them to the ceiling before hinging at the waist. I drape my arms, brushing my finger against the mat before lifting halfway and heading down to my stomach for a deep stretch in my lower back.
Nights are for stealing hours in the gym.