Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
HAVEN
Alone in the room—the cell—I gave myself a few minutes to fall apart. I huddled on the hard cot, with my arms wrapped around my knees, let tears roll down my cheeks, and tasted their salt on my lips. What had happened to my life?
When we’d arrived, I’d gaped. The guards’ headquarters was four stories of honey-colored stone. Imposing. A building designed to impress, to inspire awe. Or fear.
I lifted my head and took note of my immediate surroundings.
No warm-hued, honey-colored stone for the shields.
Everything in the room was gray—the metal bed frames, the blankets, even the sheets seemed dingy and gray.
There wasn’t much else. Just a table and lockers at the foot of each cot, presumably for our belongings. Not that they’d let me bring anything.
A wave of homesickness washed over me. I missed my grandmother. I missed the girls. Who would read Elody, the youngest girl in our care, her bedtime story? Who would comfort Tatiana when a nightmare left her shaking with fear? Who would take the time to braid Flora’s impossibly long hair?
How was I ever going to survive without them?
The door swung open, and two girls walked into the small room. The first was tall and dark. The second was petite and blonde. They both stared at me.
I stared back. I’d spent years caring for girls who pretended to be hard. These two actually were. I could see it in their deadened eyes: they’d given up on the future and accepted life was a brutish loop of pain. I hated that this place—or the men in this terrible place—had stolen their light.
“Who are you?” asked the tall one. Her voice was sharp, as if she’d sensed my sympathy and wanted no part of it.
“My name is Haven.”
She gave a brief nod. “I’m Alina, and this is Sara. Who brought you in?”
“Grayson.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Really?”
I sensed she had more to say. I kept my mouth shut and nodded.
“You’ve met them all? All four of them?” Sara asked.
Another nod.
“They’re gorgeous.” Sara’s tone held no emotion; it was almost as if she were commenting on the weather.
“Gorgeous is as gorgeous does.”
“Especially Grayson.” Sara ignored my excellent point as her expression softened slightly. “The dark hair. The blue eyes. The muscles. Did you meet any other guards?”
“No. Grayson brought me straight here.” He’d marched me through the halls, offering curt nods to other guards as his grip on my arm tightened to the point of pain. If I didn’t heal so quickly, I’d have finger-sized bruises in the morning.
“They’re keeping you.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“Usually when Grayson’s unit brings in a girl, they give her to another team.”
They gave her? Like she was a possession?
“They’re the best unit. The strongest. They train only the best.” Sara threw herself on the cot closest to the window, punched her sorry excuse for a pillow, crossed her ankles, and eyed me critically. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
Her jaw dropped. “That old?”
Twenty-five wasn’t that old. My grandmother was in her seventies. That was old. I rubbed at the sudden tightness near my heart. How would she manage without me? “I’m twenty-five.”
Sara’s gaze shifted to her blanket, where her fingers worried at a loose thread. “At least you got part of a life. I’ve been here for three years, since I was fifteen. Alina is the same. As soon as we turn eighteen, they’ll send us to the front.”
Alina sank onto the cot next to Sara’s. “Shields don’t come back from the front.”
At eighteen, I’d been complaining to Grandmother about schoolwork and the tutors she hired for me, not contemplating my death.
Shields were immune to magic, not violence.
The enemy could shoot us with an arrow, slit our throats, gut us with a sword, or sink a dagger between our ribs.
In a battle, Rymarian soldiers directed their first wave of violence at the shields, often dragging the survivors behind enemy lines.
Rape or violent death—that was the future Alina saw for herself.
Alina picked up a strand of her hair and studied the ends as if she’d never seen anything more fascinating. “Most girls last less than three months.”
Shields’ lives didn’t matter. They—we—were disposable. We were women. And women were treated like dirt beneath men’s feet. “If Grayson’s unit is so strong, why aren’t they at the front?”
Alina’s gaze scanned the gray walls and the closed door, then she leaned forward and whispered, “The rebellion. They were called back to destroy the rebellion.”
The blood in my veins ran cold. Grandmother and I weren’t involved.
First, we refused to risk the girls in our care.
Second, we didn’t entirely agree with the rebels’ vision for Legacia.
It seemed to me that one set of men wanted to replace another.
Women would remain second-class citizens.
That said, we had friends in the rebellion.
Good friends. I would not allow my powers to be used against them. “What do you know about the rebellion?”
“Only what we hear. They want to destroy our way of life.”
A way of life that included ripping women from their homes, forcing them to the front, exploiting their powers, and letting them die, all while treating them as chattel. My gaze traveled the bleak walls, iron cots, and thin mattresses. “Maybe the rebellion has a point.”
“Don’t say that.” Sara’s whisper was high and reedy, and her gaze scanned the room as if the blank walls might conceal a spy. “They’ll kill you for less. They’ll kill us for listening to you.”
She made my point.
“But—”
“Please don’t.” Her fear was palpable. I could taste it in the air.
Rather than upset her further, I changed the subject. “Grayson told me to be ready for training at five in the morning—”
“Be ready at half past four.” Alina glanced at a clock that sat on the room’s only table.
“What happens in training?”
“They’ll teach you to fight.”
I knew how to fight.
Sara grimaced. “They’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Sounds delightful.”
“Just do as Grayson tells you, and don’t talk back.” Alina barely covered a yawn. “Maybe you’ll be okay.”
Sara rubbed at her wrists, and I couldn’t help but notice the crosshatch of raised scars. “About tomorrow …”
I waited for more.
Her gaze fell to her lap. “Some of the guards will …”
My stomach tightened.
“They may treat you with disdain.”
That I’d already experienced.
“They may humiliate you.”
They could try.
“They’ll demand things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Sex.” Sara’s voice was flat.
My back stiffened, and my stomach roiled. Sara was barely eighteen. How many times had a member of the guard forced himself on her? She’d been a child. This had to end. Treating girls as if they were disposable was evil. Legacia was evil.
She held up her hands. “You won’t have to worry. You’re in Grayson’s unit. He won’t let anyone go too far.”
Too far was too subjective.
Alina’s gaze found mine. “You’re fresh meat. Try not to be alone.”
“You’re serious?”
Their young faces were grim as they nodded. They were deadly serious.
“And if someone does corner you, don’t fight. They won’t hurt you too badly.”
I closed my eyes to hide the rage I knew was burning in their depths.
Grayson kept me waiting. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes from the man who’d threatened to drag me from my bed by my hair.
I leaned against the chilly stone wall just outside our dormitory door and let my eyes drift shut. They were gritty from lack of sleep. I’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, my thoughts circling in an endless, hopeless loop.
“Where have you been?” Grayson’s voice carried down the hallway.
I pushed off the wall. “Right here. Waiting.”
Grayson loomed over me. “I told you we were training at five.”
“You told me to be ready to train at five. You didn’t tell me where to go.” Being tired and hungry (I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before) made me snarky, not smart. Smart would mean keeping my mouth closed.
“Any idiot would know we don’t train in the hallway.”
So I was supposed to wander around, hoping I’d find the training grounds? I could argue. But I wouldn’t win. I tried to be smart. “Show me where to go, and in the future, I’ll be there when you tell me.”
He grunted. “This way, Shield.”
“My name is Haven.”
“I don’t care about your name. I don’t care about your past. I don’t care about your hopes. Or your dreams. Or who you think you are. You’re a shield. Nothing more.”
If he thought he could wound me with his words, he was sorely mistaken. Every syllable that dropped from his lips made the anger in my veins burn brighter. Somehow, I held my tongue.
“When I call you Shield, you will answer. This way.”
I followed him (what choice did I have?) to an enormous gymnasium with walls lined with weapons.
Swords. Daggers. Crossbows. Staves. Whips.
Whips? A track circled the outside of the space.
Mats filled the center. Climbing ropes hung from the ceiling, and against the far wall, two posts sent a shot of dread spiraling through my belly. “What are those?”
He shoved me toward his unit without answering. They stood near the right wall and watched as I stumbled toward them.
The one with fire magic smirked at me. “I expected to see you dragged in by your hair.”
“No one told me where to go.”
His smirk broadened. “Is that so, Grayson? You forgot to tell her?”
“Enough talking.”
Pierce, the one with ice magic, glared at me. “What are you wearing?”
I still wore the loose pants and tunic I’d had on when they forced me from my home. “I don’t have anything else.”
He cut his gaze to Grayson, who shifted his weight and crossed his arms.
I waited.
“Well?” Grayson stared at me, and his lips curled in an impatient sneer.
They all stared at me as if they expected me to do something.
“I don’t know what you want.”
“Train.”
“With what? With whom?”