10. Zeina
ZEINA
It had been daybreak when the cart approached the Academy against the mandarin sky. Now that she was inside the gates, she couldn’t peel her eyes away. She had never been this close to the Academy before. It even felt magical.
When the cart stopped, Zeina sprinted out as quickly as possible and ran through the nearest wooden door. If she could hide while they unloaded the truck, she could hop back on as the driver left and get out of here just as she came.
But through the door wasn’t the safe haven of a closet that she anticipated.
Instead, she stumbled into the castle's kitchen: a large room with multiple stone fireplaces and long wooden tables covered in cooking tools and half prepared food.
The heat from the fires warmed her skin even at a distance, and the smell of freshly baked pastries and fruit filled her nostrils.
She had been temporarily satisfied by the fruit she devoured in the back of the cart, but still, her stomach cramped for something more hearty.
It was Initiation Day, she realized, and the kitchen was bustling in preparation.
Luckily, everyone seemed too busy chopping vegetables, switching rolls in and out of ovens, rearranging plates, and blending sauces, to even notice Zeina’s existence.
The man who had delivered the trolley entered the door behind her, his arms full of crates, and Zeina did her best to blend into the kitchen crowd and stay out of his way.
Beside her sat freshly baked breakfast pies. They smelled delicious, and she reached out, scooping a chunk with her bare palm.
A woman smacked her hand, sending the warm pie to the ground with a splat.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get up to the Great Hall and wait for breakfast like the rest of the students.
” She grabbed the back of Zeina’s dress and pushed her toward the stairwell.
“And goddess of the moon, use a utensil, child.”
With the woman’s stare pinning her, she had no choice but to climb the stairs and find another way to get out and get back to the trolley.
She hesitated. She didn’t want to go up, she wanted to go out, but it seemed to be the only way other than the door she came in through.
If she couldn’t make it back to the trolley, there had to be another way to escape. Reluctantly, she climbed the stairs.
As she got further and further away from the kitchens, her mind combed through her options, forming a new plan. Maybe, if she found the entrance, she could sneak out as new students came in.
When Zeina arrived at the top of the stairs, she pushed through a heavy doorway and was immediately absorbed by a crowd of students, collecting in some sort of open outdoor hall, framed by a colonnade.
For a moment, she was stunned by its grandeur; large pillars reached up high to a circular balcony entwined with swirling vines, blooming flowers, and colorful stained-glass windows, the bright morning sky framed by the opening at the top. She had never seen anything like it.
Once she regained control of herself, she pushed through the crowd toward the source of the traffic.
“Excuse you.” Distracted by it all, Zeina had bumped into a professor carrying a stack of uniforms. “They let anyone in these days,” she mumbled to herself before asking Zeina if she had shoes.
Zeina shook her head. No. She hated shoes.
They never fit right and always gave her blisters.
Over the years, her feet had developed thick calluses, which protected her from the sting of sharp rocks. She was quite happy being barefoot.
The Professor looked her up and down, assessing her size, before handing her a uniform. “Go over there and put this on. Initiation is about to start. And before you ask, yes, more uniforms have been placed in your dorm quarters.”
Zeina waited until the professor was out of sight, before turning back toward the front entrance.
Getting there was a challenge, since most of the students were heading the other way.
When she finally approached the gates, she froze.
A cluster of Defenders spoke to a young, orphan boy.
The shorter of them gripped his hair, pulling him off balance by the back of the head.
Zeina couldn’t hear them well, over the sound of students going by, but she could read lips.
Years of people watching from the shadows had gifted her with at least one useful skill.
The boy said something about becoming a Defender, how hungry he was, and how hard he would work if given the chance. The Defender that had him in a death grip replied that if he took one step beyond the gates without an invitation, they would cut off his legs and feed them to the Hydra.
The boy wasn’t wearing any shoes, and the only reason his clothes were dirtier than hers was because she’d found fresh ones recently. She looked down at her feet, noticing how the dirt had made a home in between her toes, spreading up her ankles.
The boy was just like her.
He just wanted a meal.
He pleaded as the guard threw him to the ground, splitting his lip open in the process. Blood collected in the edges of his teeth as the second guard kicked him in the ribs, hard enough to break at least one, and smiled as the boy cried out in pain.
Zeina spun around so quickly it made her dizzy and sprinted back toward the crowd of students.
She would have to lay low for a while, not draw any attention to herself while she found an alternative escape route.
Like a shadow, she followed a group of girls into a washroom to change.
The uniform was a little baggy, but it would do.
She still didn’t have shoes, but at least it wouldn’t be as noticeable.
Joining the students in the Great Hall, she stood picking at her cuticles.
She was surrounded by soon to be killers—some of them were already well-versed in ending lives—and she wondered what it would be like to receive an invitation to acquire such power.
For a moment, she pictured herself living a normal life with a family, a bedroom, siblings.
She would sit at her dining room table one evening, reading her Academy acceptance letter over dinner.
Her family would smile and congratulate her, and she would feel chosen.
And then, she would come here to kill.
Zeina didn’t think much about the creatures beyond the Great Wall, or the Defenders who guarded it, for that matter, except to stay clear of them.
Nothing mattered more to the Jarrians than their defense system, and at times, orphans were branded traitors just to clear them from the streets.
It was always Defenders who did the dirty work, but it was Jarrians who labeled it righteous.
It didn’t matter if it was a creature or a human. Protectors were praised.
It would be surreal, she thought, to be on the other side. Here within the Academy walls, she had a glimpse of it.
But she wasn’t one of them. She was an orphan.
A nobody.
Standing in a sea of students who would soon become Defenders made Zeina feel like she had arrived at her own funeral. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just walk out the front gates. She had to find a way to leave unnoticed, and until she did, she needed to blend in.
She needed a new plan. One that didn’t involve a Defender breaking her ribs.