Chapter Nine #2
But her dreams were full of anguished cries and desperate pleas.
At one point, she felt like she was being suffocated by it, only to wake and find her dagger in her hand and the unnecessarily plush pillow over her face.
She untangled herself from the layers of sheets and dragged a single blanket and pillow over to the set of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the castle walls and the swath of city beyond.
The moonlight that washed over her was the most familiar thing in the room. It reminded her of the last time she had lain side by side with Sami, the rooftop under her belly, a dead city and bleak future spread before her.
So much had changed, and yet Solana felt the same. As if nothing in this world could satisfy the yawning hunger within her.
As she watched, the light shifted from a watery blue to a full-bodied orange and burned her sensitive eyes. Solana covered them with two hands and groaned. It felt as though she had been beaten and dragged through the cracked and crumbling streets of the callejon.
The food from last night sat mostly untouched on a table nearby, and her dress was tossed haphazardly over a lush chair.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine this would have been her life had she stayed at the castle.
The richest foods whenever she called for them.
Dresses tailored to her every dip and curve.
Late and slow mornings. Days spent socializing and shopping.
Nights spent drinking and fucking and not hunting.
Speaking of hunting, Solana glanced at the window and noted the position of the sun in the sky.
It was just cresting over the tops of the trees, casting the sky in shades of orange and yellow and pink that reminded her of the pastel buildings in the callejon.
But something was off. Solana felt disoriented, until she realized the sun wasn’t cresting, but setting. She had slept away the entire day.
Stripping out of her underclothes on the way, Solana rushed to the armoire and yanked out a clean uniform.
The fabric was crisp and unworn, scratchy against her sleep-sensitive skin.
She tugged the black pants on, then the tunic, along with the leather vambraces and chest piece that fit eerily perfectly.
She slid the black boots over her pants and tied up the sides with deft fingers.
And then she threw the cloak over her shoulders and pinned it at her throat, the Masters badge like a weight.
When she was a girl, she had loved watching the graduation ceremony that took place in the castle every year.
The Masters would showcase their skills in each of their gifts, a leftover magic from the gods that had become the lands of Auquis.
A small remnant of their power, and a reminder of the potential that would never be fully realized.
Their gifts were limited, and they were only recharged at night with restorative sleep.
One could go their whole life without knowing they had one, or how to use it, which was where the Academy came in.
If one had the means, they could pay for testing and training. Solana had thought that she would one day attend the Academy and proudly bear the king’s badge, but she had never in her wildest imagination expected it would happen like this. From criminal to hunter. Prisoner to Master.
The shame of it had her itching to rip it off.
But she’d done her time, had more experience than Reyes and his team combined.
She’d been living on her own since she was thirteen, had figured out the best way to kill a muki on her own, had stitched up her wounds on her own, had kept herself alive on her own.
She deserved to be there just as much as anyone else.
Fully dressed and convinced of herself once again, Solana swiped her dagger from the bedside table, slipped it into a new sturdy leather sheath, and bolted for the door, only to lose her footing and almost die from a slip of parchment splayed on the floor. With a curse, she bent and ripped it open.
Dinner at quarter till sundown. Don’t be late!—C
Solana whirled to the window and the last sliver of light that speared through the trees.
“Shit,” she cursed, crumbling the note into a fist and taking off toward the kitchens.
She didn’t have time to pretend she didn’t know where she was going.
A woman in blue dodged out of her way when she turned a corner too fast and a guard watched her with his hand on his sword, ready to cut her down unquestioningly.
But there was no chance, for the only unquestionable thing was her inability to be on time to anything.
In this case, it wasn’t her fault. Someone could have woken her.
Unless they hadn’t on purpose, in which case they were intentionally sabotaging her first day under the king’s employ and forcing her to break the few rules he had set out for her.
Don’t cause problems. Don’t ask questions. Stay the course. The newest Rule of Three.
Solana cursed again and pushed herself harder, barreling into the kitchens like a rabid animal.
The staff jumped in surprise, their eyes narrowing once they saw who it was.
For a moment, Solana was afraid that they recognized her curly hair and wide brown eyes.
That she had spent too much time stealing picarones and talking the cook’s ear off to be forgotten.
But she recognized none of them and once the shock of her appearance wore off, a slight girl with flour on her face pointed at the door and said, “You just missed them.”
“Do you know where they went?” Solana asked.
The girl shrugged and went back to work. Solana swiped an arepa from a pile of still-warm food on the table and tore off a bite as she strode out of the kitchen and back into the hallway.
The Masters had been on foot when they’d collected her and Sami, but they had ultimately mounted those giant black horses and rode through the cities back to the castle, every step of their thundering hooves like a hammer straight into her skull.
She had fought so hard to stay awake and alive.
Refused to give in to the pain of her wounds or the humiliation of being tossed about like a sack of flour.
This intentional exclusion would not be the thing to best her.
Jaw clenched, Solana made her way to the stables.