Infinity's Row - Caliber

Chapter 1

"Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

"Now, here in the Maar Gan region we have. . ."

The words of Eleanor Dan'ali, my tutor, become fainter as I look out the window, like she's trying to talk to me from several feet away. The window serves to provide me with a magnificent view of the marble porch--bigger than most houses in N'al Ren--right behind a sprawling forest-green lawn that has not even one strand of grass out of place. This is only a small portion of the grand, castle-sized structure known as Yate Manor.

My home.

I close my eyes.

My name is Gentry Elizabeth Yate, I recite to myself, just as I have done in the past decade of my life. I am ten years old. I am the daughter of Wesley and Matilda Yate. I am the heir to their company, Yate Enterprises.

A playful shriek erupts from outside. I open my eyes, and soon they rest on two kids my age--children of the servants, I'm sure--as they laugh and chase each other, sprinting through the grand porch like it's a wide open field. The girl trips over her own feet, but she howls in laughter as she picks herself back up and gives chase to the boy.

The sight of them ignites a heat behind my eyes, but a deathly coldness everywhere else on my body.

"Miss Yate?"

I turn to an expectant Miss Dan'ali.

"When was the currency of N'al Ren established, Miss Yate?"

"It. . ." I knit my eyebrows. "It was. . ." I search my mind desperately until my head begins to dully throb from the effort. "Was it. . . 47 BW?"

Miss Dan'ali shakes her head slowly, painfully. The remnant of hope I had for myself sinks slowly, painfully.

She slides her glasses off of her face and caresses her forehead in her hand. It's body language that's familiar to me--it's what's used each time a tutor or servant loses a bit more of their faith in me.

"Miss Yate," she says, "you cannot afford to be slothful." But I wasn't. I was truly trying to study everything, from history to arithmetic to mannerisms. I simply didn't get them yet. "The future of an esteemed company--a company that plays an instrumental part in keeping the three N'al Ren regions running, no less--rests entirely on your shoulders. You are not a normal girl, and you must remember that."
I swallow and look down.

My name is Gentry Elizabeth Yate. I am ten years old. I am the daughter of Wesley and Matilda Yate. I am the heir to their company, Yate Enterprises.

And I will never be a normal girl, will I?

~   ~   ~

“Is Dad here?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Yate. He and your mother are both meeting with a business associate.”

“Do you. . . know when they’ll be back?”

“Sometime late in the night, I expect.”

“I see. Thank you.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, I walk away from the maid. 

My footsteps can be heard clearly in the vacant hall, and their echoes nip at my heels. Each echo's long fingers spin around the marble walls, haunting it as I walk toward my chambers.

I keep my hands clasped in front of me, just as I have been taught. I take small but purposeful steps, and the hem of my white bell-shaped skirt looks as though it is gliding across a glistening stream of marble. I attempt to lift my head up as well--for I believe that is the only thing I need to correct--but my face is drawn to the floor like a magnet.