Chapter 8
“All of Aeta’s children dwell within Ethoria,
and each guards it in their own design.”
- The Old Book
Iwoke up half-expecting everything to have been a terrible dream.
But when my eyes opened, the nightmare didn’t end.
It was only made worse when a Veiler threw a bucket of water onto Isaac because he didn’t wake up on command.
It soaked him and splashed onto several of the other culled, including me.
It was freezing. Even the few drops that hit me made me shiver. However, it was Isaac I was worried about. With the dropping temperatures outside, he could easily get hypothermia if not allowed to dry off.
“Everybody out! Of course, that’s if you want to eat today,” the Veiler sneered.
All eleven of us shuffled out of the tent, trying not to topple one another. I grabbed one of the wool blankets while exiting, hiding it between our moving bodies. Once out of the tent, I found Isaac and pulled him aside. He was drenched from the waist up, and his teeth visibly chattered.
“Take your shirt off,” I ordered. He looked at me with a stunned expression, his shivering mouth agape. “Now. Or would you rather catch a cold? Which, I’ll have you know, is a death sentence out here.”
Isaac stopped glaring at me and closed his mouth. He peeled his tunic off without a word and trembled. He tried to warm himself by rubbing his hands along his chest and arms.
“Wring it out and let it air dry for as long as possible.” I wrapped the blanket around him. A tremor surged through him, and he gripped it tighter.
“T-thank you,” he stuttered.
“Just stay alive.”
He nodded frantically.
When I turned to walk away, I caught sight of Rowan staring me down from across the camp.
He was standing with his arms crossed and an indiscernible expression on his face.
It was probably the fact that he was a Veiler, but he had an aptitude for lurking about.
Rowan was never far, and I found it both comforting and a nuisance.
I could tell he had criticisms he wanted to spew by the way his eyes narrowed through the slits of his mask, but I wasn’t interested in arguing with him today.
I shook my head and steered clear of him, walking in the opposite direction.
My plan was foiled when he dropped his arms and came toward me.
Rowan was quick. He caught up with me in just a few strides.
“Don’t become attached,” he said sternly.
“That’s rich coming from you,” I scoffed.
He was the one who was attached. Rowan was almost always in the corner of my eye, prowling about like the predator he was. He wanted me to know that he was watching me, too—otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen him at all.
“Oh, I’m not attached,” he bit out defensively.
“Then why do you even care?”
“I don’t.”
“Really? Because it seems like you do, and I just can’t figure out why. Is this some kind of game to you? If so, I’m not interested in playing.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Reckless, but I didn’t care. Rowan let me take many liberties in how I spoke to him. I didn’t understand, nor did I care to ask why. As I left, he grabbed my arm, keeping me from going any further.
“This is not a game. People will die. And you’ll sit there knowing you can’t stop it.”
“Then why help me?”
“Maybe I’m tired of watching death take everyone.”
“You can’t mean that. You’re a Veiler.”
Rowan leaned in, his grip tightening. His breath was warm against my ear. And when he spoke, it was low and dizzyingly grave.
“If you think you’re the only one who’s lost their freedom…” He let the words sink in before adding, quieter this time, almost like a confession. “Then you are sorely mistaken.”
“Let. Me. Go.” I bit out my words, over-enunciating each one.
Surprisingly, he did as I requested. Rowan dropped his hand from my arm and stormed off.
I rolled my shoulders back and mentally shook off the conversation that had just transpired. It added stress I couldn’t afford to bear. Then, I made my way toward the Veilers who were handing out bowls of food. My guess was stew—again.
Once I was served my portion, I looked inside. I was right—it was leftover rat stew. I poked at it until I decided that starvation was probably worse than consumption. Scooping a spoonful into my mouth, I forced my jaw to chew the tough meat.
It was even worse than before. My mouth flooded with saliva, wanting to reject its contents.
“I don’t understand,” a woman whispered nearby. “How are you still alive?”
The voice caught my attention, and I put my spoon down. I turned to find a group of three of the culled huddled together by the fire, observing me like I was some sort of spectacle. I didn’t know who had spoken.
All three of them stood at once and advanced toward me cautiously.
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked them over. They appeared equally frightened and in awe.
It was the blonde one who spoke first.
“What’s your name?”
“Mavis.”
“I’m Lily. That’s Aeva, and he’s Brenn.”
The blonde one—Lily—had wide, feverish eyes. Aeva’s hair was brunette and wiry, and Brenn’s shoulders looked too narrow for the weight he carried.
Lily stuck her hand out to me, and I tentatively shook it. Aeva and Brenn just dipped their heads in acknowledgment.
“Where are you from?” I asked them.
“We’re from Lameer,” Lily said.
Lameer was just south of Athelney, the capital of Ravaryn.
My father once told me that Athelney could be seen just as clearly at night as it was during the day. He said that it was because they had no need for candles or oil lamps, and that light could be commanded with the flick of a switch. He was always full of stories.
The three of them stared at me curiously, like they wanted to pick apart my brain. I stretched my neck and arms out, trying my best to ignore their intrusive gazes.
“What?” I asked a bit impatiently. My legs twitched under their unsettling scrutiny.
Lily responded, “How do you get away with it?”
“Get away with what?”
“You talk to them with such bravery,” Brenn said, half-amazed.
“Or stupidity,” quipped Aeva in a monotonous tone. Only her lips moved when she spoke.
“Why aren’t you afraid of their retribution?” Lily asked.
“What more can they do to me they haven’t already done? They’ve taken me from my home and everything I’ve ever known. They want to see me break, but I refuse to cower in front of monsters.”
I returned to my bowl of stew and devoured it. In part because I felt the bite of acidity in my stomach from prolonged emptiness, but also because I wanted to send a message that I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
I wasn’t a fool. I knew I needed allies, but I didn’t need friends.
Acts such as giving Isaac a warm blanket earned me favors. Making small talk only further humanized them, which was dangerous. The more I saw the other culled as actual people with families and homes, the more sympathy I gained for them. I would never admit it aloud, but Rowan was right.
I couldn’t get attached. Not to them. Not to anyone.