Scars of Gold

Chapter One

An ice storm was brewing. If the lights on the ceiling flickering off weren't indication enough, the rumble of distant thunder proved it. Ice storms weren't unusual, but this one was unseasonably early. We were almost half a year away from the rain and sleet of the storm season, fallas.

"At least we won't get sunburnt tomorrow," Fari whispered from the bed beside mine. Speaking was forbidden once the door closed us in for the night, but no one cared; it wasn't as though anyone would be checking on us. Nearly fourteen hundred Etealians lived in the inner rings of Volcaria. No one had time for a dormitory of fifteen teenage girls.

Well, that wasn't strictly true: the guards had plenty of time for us, but they were only interested in dolling out punishments advantageous to themselves.

"We'll be muddier though," I sighed. Three more weeks out in the fields harvesting crops we'd never eat. It was brutal work under the sun of our hottest season, emendas, but it wouldn't be any more pleasant in the sludge that followed an ice storm and our clothes weren't made for the frozen chill that would bite through the air.

My eyes were already adjusting to the gloom and I could see the other girls changing from their work shirts and cargos into threadbare pyjamas that were a few inches too short. Dust and dirt caked my skin, the scent of earth filling my nostrils. I pulled my hair out of its tie, tugging my hands through the tangled dark mess that fell around my shoulders.

"Kacia," Mel hissed from the bed to my right when she noticed I wasn't getting changed. "You can't seriously be thinking about-"

"This might be my only chance!" I snapped, with more venom than I intended. 

"Sorry," I continued more softly. "I have to do this, Mel."

My fingers moving on instinct to the crumpled note in my pocket. I'd had it out so many times that the thin paper had already almost worn away. But I'd committed the words to memory: If you want to meet your mother, leave the city tonight. She'll be waiting for you on the mountainside.

My mother. The words burned a hole through my pocket. I hadn't seen my mother since I was five. All I had left of her was a patchwork of memories.

On the day of my fifth birthday, I had been taken away from my mother and placed into a dorm with all the other girls my age. Family bonds led to loyalty, to love, to something more important than our duty to the Lathrian crown. Families bred hope for a better future. That was why we were deprived of them.

"But even if you could sneak out. The storm-"

"Will just mean that I won't be spotted," I cut across her again. We'd been arguing about this all evening. I wasn't going to soften now just because my bed was beckoning. I had to get out of the city. I couldn't miss what might be my only opportunity to see her again. My limbs cried out in agreement with Mel, begging me to lie down for a few hours of rest. My head and my heart had other plans.

"But what would your mother even be doing outside the-" Mel began, but I cut her off.

"If I don't go out there, I'll never know. Sorry," I said again, realising that my tone had turned spiteful. My emotions were all over the place; I'd been feeling anxious and on edge all day, but I couldn't work out why. It felt like pressure was building up inside me, threatening to erupt like the volcano our city was constructed inside of.

"It's okay, Kacia," Mel said, her voice full of understanding. "You're hungry. I know you don't mean it."

But that wasn't it. We were always hungry. When it got too much, all our tempers frayed. Today was worse than normal. The only thing I could put it down to was the letter.