The Sanctuary

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Are you going to do work, or just crowd my kitchen?”

 I made a face at Marina, the lead cook of the Sanctuary kitchen. She was wearing an apron, her cheeks dusted with flour, a stirring stick in one hand and the other armed with a kitchen knife.

 Raising my hands innocently, I turned back to preparing the prisoners meal. I couldn’t help but glare at the meal as well, as if it was the reason for all my problems. As it was going, it really was. Being the prisoners hand maiden was taking over my training time and was keeping me up at night, making me come face to face with an enemy that I could not understand for the life of me.

 Reece was busy next to me, slicing a loaf of bread.

 “What are we doing with that Farsay?” Reece wanted to know, her eyes innocent. “Why have we kept him alive for so long?”

 I gave her a sharp look, as Marina’s three helpers who were stirring stew in large pots paused to listen. They turned hurriedly back to their jobs, pretending as if they hadn’t just a second ago, leaned in with perked ears of interest.

 The prisoner’s stay here was widespread knowledge amongst the children of the Sanctuary. Some children didn’t remember what Farsays even looked like. Their eyes weren’t silver, their faces smooth and unmarked. Normal, I thought bitterly. They were curious to see who this soldier was, the one that was causing the Riders to be in such an uproar.

 “Sometimes I wonder why they didn’t kill him right away,” Reece whispered.

 I clanged the wooden cup down hard.

 “He might know something,” I said in a low voice, glancing at the other children who were busily chopping root vegetables and throwing them into a boiling stew. “He could be valuable. He could be important, we could hold him for ransom-“

 Yet as I said the words, I knew how foolish it was. What did we want in exchange? The freedom to live in peace with Farsay? Permission to return back to our homeland? The Kingdom of Farsay would not be able to give us what we wanted. I knew why Madame Widow drilled the idea of revenge so hard in their minds.

 There was no other way to get the peace we wanted without war.

 The prisoner’s words echoed in my mind. Before you get on your high horse, think about it. We’re both stuck in this war for revenge. How far will that go?

 Reece looked at me carefully. “Alaya…” she shook her head. “Madame Widow comes back in a few days.”

 “I know.”

 “Even if she doesn’t punish you…she will want to kill him.”

 I gripped the utensils in my hand hard, my knuckles turning white. “I know.”

 “Why don’t you want him to die?”

 I looked up at Reece sharply, but only curiosity met my furtive glance.

 “You didn’t seem like the compassionate type,” Reece gave me a teasing smile. “What did you always talk about again? Revenge, revenge, revenge. You didn’t care who you had to kill, who had to go down, or who had to pay in order to get what you wanted-“ she corrected herself. “-well, what we all want.”

 “I don’t care,” I protested. “I just- he could be useful. I don’t think he needs to die.”

 Reece gave me a studying look, and I looked away involuntarily. I couldn’t have said it any other way, could I have.

 “He’s a Farsay, Alaya,” Reece said, gently. “A Farsay who isn’t giving up any of his secrets. A Farsay who apparently, according to the Riders, believes what they all believe. That we are monsters.”