Chapter 2 #2
He would know the truth; I was sure of it.
Finished with my hasty packing, I threw my bag over my shoulder, standing to my full height to hug my cousin before pushing past her toward the door.
“Wait,” she said, ducking into her room to grab a small black book lined with gold, which she pressed into my hand.
One glance told me the book was in the Seid language. My parents had taught all three of us to speak it, but never to repeat it to anyone. “Just in case you need it,” she whispered, tears glistening on her cheeks.
It was asking for trouble, packing this book.
But I did so anyway, pausing to press it to the very bottom of my bag.
Now, I would certainly be killed if there were mandatory bag checks.
I brushed that thought aside—this was a death sentence for me no matter how we looked at it, and there was no avoiding it.
Despite doing everything possible to be just like my brother, I wasn’t built to survive a war.
Then again, neither was he. Our parents had made sure of that.
Not knowing what else to say, and seeing no reason to drag this out, I gripped my cousin to me one final time, “I love you Collum. Thank you for everything. Forget I ever existed. Be happy.”
Tears brimming in my eyes, I didn’t look back as I stepped through the door and out into the blinding sunlight.
“Excellent.” Viscount Adis grinned on the stoop.
He was a tall man, nearly a head taller than Milo and I, with a trim figure that was always dressed to impress.
Even now, as I took in his blue coat with gold buttons, and his knee-length gray breeches, which were a much better cut than my own, I couldn’t say he was unattractive.
Pair that with golden hair, which was always swept back, he was known for always having his choice of women falling at his feet .
. . as long as you could ignore his onyx black eyes, which seemed to peer directly into your soul.
I shuddered and looked away, taking notice that he was flanked by two soldiers dressed in similar dark blue uniforms. I rarely saw soldiers in this part of Ralheim, as they tended to go directly from the barracks at the edge of town to the battlefield, and it surprised me that their uniforms were so . . . plain.
The last time I had seen one so up close was when I was ten, and peeking out from behind my mother’s skirts for the king’s parade.
The king, who had waved from the back of a grand horse before dooming the citizens of Ralheim to a shortened lifetime under one of the most hated viscounts of all time.
The brass buttons of the guard’s uniforms flashed in my memory, in the afternoon breeding-season sun, as they walked in a protective circle around the one-eyed viscount who’d barely glanced beyond his nose as they walked by.
That was Adis’ father.
I squinted. Maybe the uniforms hadn’t changed, but my understanding had.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Viscount Adis chuckled. “These are my personal guards. Your uniform will look different, I assure you.”
I moved to step off our small porch, but the way his eyes appraised me, seeming to drink me in, caused me to pause mid-step.
“You’re a scraggly thing. I don’t think General Otho will be pleased.”
I bit my tongue, something I had learned to do over the years.
It was his high taxes that ensured most of Ralheim remained in poverty.
His trade wars which cut us off from the rest of Heimland.
Though I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, I restrained myself.
Emotions were liable to reveal our secret, and I had to hide them.
Something I had always done better than my brother.
I swallowed everything I felt, my stomach aching, my eyes trained, expressionless, on his.
I’d never met General Otho, but I’d heard rumors of his legendary swordsmanship.
“It’s not my decision to make. Come.” He said nothing else before turning to walk back toward the cobblestone street, his two guards waiting for me to follow him before falling in behind me. As if I would try to run.
The thing about running is you had to have somewhere to go, and I had none.
My feet felt like stones, and with each step we took from my childhood home, the pressure of what was to come seemed to weigh on me more heavily.
My stomach churned as I felt the pinpricks of pain at my side from my tattoo the day before.
Today was supposed to be Milo’s day at home.
Milo should have been the one trudging out of town with nothing more than a backpack to his name.
Milo should have been the one going to war.
Despite my dismal thoughts, though, I didn’t regret trading with him. After all, I wasn’t lying when I said this was the better choice for both of us.
There was no future here for me anyway.
My life was the one that was sacrificed.
We lived on the edges of Ralheim, and it wasn’t long before the small rows of cottages, similar to our own, gave way to the larger buildings and shops of the exterior of the center of town.
Soon, we were passing the merchant, the butcher (no sign of Roger), and the textile shop, where Collum had purchased the material to make all of our clothes.
Then the University, also located in the center of town, came into view, and my breath stopped.
Please. Please no, I begged in my head. If they saw Milo now, everything would be ruined.
I glanced behind me, judging as to whether or not I could run. But one glance at the guard on the left’s face told me there wasn’t a breath of a chance I would get away.
I don’t know if the gods heard me, but just as I was certain our ruse was over, Viscount Adis made a right, taking us down an alley, and toward the nicer part of town.
The part of town that held the two-story homes—something I dreamed of owning, though I hadn’t revealed that wish to Milo or Collum. It would never come to fruition.
For a while, I thought we might stop and collect others who had missed their call to service.
But when we passed home after home without pause, my feet starting to grow sore from the cobblestone street and the wooden lifts in my shoes, my nerves amplified the sick sensation in my stomach.
Apparently, Milo was the only one who had missed the notice, and standing out was never a good thing in Ralheim. Especially not with a secret like ours.
It wasn’t until we entered the factory district, which I only knew of because Collum worked here, that I realized we would be heading to the barracks—located on the edge of the more wealthy part of town—directly.
Sure enough, we rounded a corner to stand in front of the imposing gray walls that I had only seen once as a child of seven, when my father had taken me for a walk one dim afternoon.
The walls had looked ginormous then, and they must’ve grown, because they only seemed impossibly larger now.
I wasn’t allowed to gawk, however, and the guard behind me nudged me to a door the moment I tried to pause.
“Come on,” he growled.
I jolted forward at his push, picking up my pace to catch up with the viscount and the second guard, who were already through the door.
I ducked through after them, my vision suddenly going dark as I stepped into the unlit interior—my eyes requiring a moment to adjust from the harsh sunlight to the exact opposite.
The guards and the viscount seemed unbothered, continuing on without me, until one of them must’ve realized I wasn’t behind them.
A huff reached my ears before I felt a firm grip on my upper bicep, dragging me along.
My eyes finally adjusted as we turned corner after corner, and I noticed that candles hung in every corner, though many of them weren’t currently lit. Something that would have been nice to have, but I knew now wasn’t the time for interior lighting suggestions.
Just as I was certain I would never be able to find my way out of here, I was tossed into a small room, the walls lined with an array of uniforms. I looked around in panic, hoping I wouldn’t be forced to dress in front of anyone.
I turned back to the viscount, only to nearly run into his outstretched hand, which made a beckoning motion.
I tilted my head to the side.
“Are you daft?” he shouted. “Give me your pack; I don’t want you stealing anything. Change into a uniform, and bring the clothes you are wearing out to me for inspection.”
I gulped, but handed my bag over. I was right to assume they would search it.
I might have been about to lose my menses cloths, but the only alternative was to say something which would undoubtedly make this situation worse.
Instead, I just nodded, beginning to glance around the room to search for my size.
The door creaked shut behind me, and as soon as it did, I bolted for the dark blue uniform jacket that looked like it might fit.
Without pausing, I stripped, pulling on the pants, which were a bit snug, the upper portion clinging to my thighs in a way I would have never chosen for myself.
It didn’t matter right now. I pulled a pair of boots from beneath, grimacing as I swapped my lifts and squished my feet inside.
There wasn’t time to scour for a larger size.
With a panicked glance over my shoulder, I quickly undid the last few measures of my chest wrap, redoing them more tightly than before.
The fresh tattoo on my side protested at the uncomfortable pressure, but I didn’t have time to care.
They were going to search me for weapons. I just knew it.
Once my breasts were painfully flat in their binding, I picked the jacket that had been hung above the pants I had chosen, throwing it over my shoulders, the buttons halfway done by my quivering fingers by the time the door creaked open again.
“Hurry up.” The voice was deep, and it wasn’t Viscount Adis’s.
I finished securing the buttons before spinning around and moving toward the door with a quick gait. Well, as quick a gait as I could manage with shoes that were far too small.
The man who stood there couldn’t have been much older than I was, but he was indeed taller, his black hair slicked back into a ponytail.
His equally-as-dark eyes peered down at me from above his thin nose, appraising me, nostrils flaring.
“That’ll do,” was all he said, his voice deep, before he began to walk away.
As his form retreated, I took notice of the way his muscles bulged from beneath his uniform, his wide shoulders a far cry from my own.
His skin was also much tanner than was normal for Ralheim, meaning he probably spent more time outside than the average citizen.
Then again, everyone spent more time outside than Milo and I—thanks to our half-lives.
And was that a black tattoo peering over the edge of his collar?
Like a deer, I stood there for a moment, jaw agape, before realizing I probably should follow. Then, like an idiot, as I tried to catch up, I tripped over the shoes I had also chosen, nearly landing on my face, but I caught myself just in time.
When I glanced up, panting, he was peering down at me, his dark gaze filled with apparent disdain. “Hm.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t make a move to help me up, and I scrambled to do so before I could receive another of his condescending “hmmms.”
Once I was upright, we were moving again, weaving through the dark halls until he ducked through a bright opening.
My poor eyes were done with me today, as the sunlight temporarily blinded me once more.
Before they were fully adjusted, I felt the unmistakable push of being turned around, my front forced up against the cold brick wall, as the dark-haired man’s hands ran up and down my legs, searching.
I clenched my teeth to keep myself quiet and hoped his hands wouldn’t climb high enough to induce questions.
His hands finished on my legs long before reaching my buttocks, and I held my breath as he lifted the edge of my jacket, feeling around my waistband before brushing his hands all the way up my back.
His breath tickled my neck in a way that almost made me shiver, and something akin to desire twisted in my gut.
The betrayal of my body almost caused me to roll my eyes.
This was a terrifying situation, not a sexual one, but the organ between my legs begged to differ, the traitor.
But there was no time to truly evaluate whatever feelings his breath incited as his hands skimmed up my sides—much too close to the secret I was keeping. I knew the moment his hands encountered the first edge of the binding I wore, because he paused.
It was over.
“What’s this?” he questioned, lifting the back of my jacket to inspect the fabric binding.
“Bandage,” I lied with ease. I had been practicing this lie ever since we left the house. “I got a tattoo yesterday. Need to keep it covered.” I pinched my eyes closed, pleading to the gods to not let this be my last moment of life.
“Hm,” he said at last, his hands moving to check my arms before leaving me entirely. “No more of those until you are out of the service.”
I nodded, biting my tongue when the question of why he had one bubbled up. My panic seeped out of my pores in a way that made me want to collapse against the stone wall.
I turned to face him, careful to keep my hands at my sides. “I won’t get any more, I promise,” I assured him before glancing behind him to find Viscount Adis and the two guards who had led me here standing with their arms crossed in apparent annoyance.
He continued to peer at me, looking me up and down, before lifting my arm to squeeze my sorry excuse for a left bicep through the jacket. “That’s all?” His voice was gruff, and I assumed he was going to order extra workouts until . . . “Too weak to be of use in my rankings. I don’t want him.”
This time I did sag against the wall, my fear renewed as he spun and stalked away from me without another glance. Was this it? Was I about to be returned home? All that just to be deemed too weak for military service?
When I looked up, I knew immediately that my hope was unfounded, just from the way Viscount Adis’s lips twisted.
“Don’t get too excited, Mr. Potson. Just because General Otho doesn’t want you doesn’t mean you are free of your obligated service.
I am in need of another personal guard. You will come and work in my home with Markos and Syrus.
” He motioned to the two guards, finally giving me their names.
Without waiting for my answer, Markos grabbed me roughly by the arm and led me away.
Well, I thought to myself, at least I wouldn’t be going to battle.