The blade narrowly misses my eyeball. It catches on my skin just below my temple. I dab at the droplet of blood oozing from the cut with my fingertip. Aston's jaw falls open as fear leaks into his eyes. He stumbles over his tongue, grappling for an apology. But I launch myself at him, swinging my blade low, and his swift reflexes block it. He hops backwards and tosses me a smug grin.
"Alright, soldiers," the Tranq barks. His black eyes roam over us as he prowls forward, stepping between us all. I fight the urge to squirm as he passes me and rakes his gaze over my body. His heavy body armour clanks and he grips his powerful staff. "Good work today. We will return in the morning."
We laugh and shove one another. Early evening sunlight blares through the grimy warehouse windows, and the frenzied dust particles catch bright orange.
"Alright, soldiers," the Tranq barks. His black eyes roam over us as he prowls forward, stepping between us all. I fight the urge to squirm as he passes me and rakes his gaze over my body. His heavy body armour clanks and he grips his powerful staff. "Good work today. We will return in the morning. Gods save the king."
"Gods save the king," the crowd of soldiers echoes.
A rumble fills the enormous room as a hundred Convex soldiers relax and mingle with one another. My sword clinks as I slide it into the sheathe on my belt.
"Don't forget the law, soldiers!" the Tranq calls as we all trudge eagerly to the door. Many of the soldiers will be reconvening at the pub shortly. "As a soldier, you may keep your weapon. But any use of it in public, or against a Tranq, will result in exile."
Aston slings his arm over my shoulder, and we traipse out of the repurposed warehouse in the northern area of the Convex Sector, near the river.
"Will you join me on a trip across the river this evening, Elle?" he asks, nodding a pretend top hat at a girl waving at him. "I have a plethora of goods to deliver to the finest people in our kingdom."
"Not the palace," I groan, rolling my eyes.
"I love it. They look at me like I'm a dirty piece of rag," he says with a chuckle as we navigate our way east, towards the farms and his home.
"You are a dirty piece of rag, Aston."
He puts his hand over his heart, mocking shock. "And I thought we were friends."
We laugh and crack dry, crude jokes to one another all the way until we hit the yellow path, along the paddocks and fields, and eventually, arrive on a road of small homes. The outskirts of the Convex Sector. Most of these tiny dwellings are home to many farmers. They are squat cottages, made from russet brick and concrete. The road is not paved with cobble but with dirt and hard-packed hay. We follow a quick path to the front step of a cottage.
An old lady opens the door. She has sheet white hair pulled into a bun with dark, leathery skin from a lifetime of working in the sun.
"Ah, my Elle!" she says, throwing her bony arms into the air. "Come in, come in."
Ushered inside, she grabs my hand before I can say anything and lights the kettle.
"Sit down, sit down." She pulls a rickety chair out from under a round table. She beams a gummy smile. "What brings you to my patch?"
"I am helping Aston deliver over the river, Madam Sallow." I smile as she ignites the flame under the kettle. "Plus, I wanted to ask if you have any old produce in the orchard that you can give away." After the encounter in the forest, I want to avoid the place.
Madam Sallow purses her lips, her eyes sagging with sadness. "Not this time, Elle. The Tranqs are crawling in the fields." She draws her thumb across her neck. "Stealing food is a dead man's game."
She places a mug of steaming tea before me and my frigid, calloused fingers desperately grip the mug. I take a sip and wince at the heat slicing my tongue.
"I'm worried for my sister," I admit, as Madam Sallow washes the tea down her throat. "She's fading fast. My resources are depleting–"
"You mean your spot in the forest?"
I flick my gaze at her, trying to remain impassive, drumming the side of the mug.
"I can't go to the forest for a while. I think the Tranqs are out there, too," I say. Not entirely a lie. I'm not sure what or who I saw in the forest shadows.
I finish my tea and Aston returns to the kitchen. "Ready, Elle?"
We thank Madam Sallow for the tea, bid her goodbye, and slip back onto the road. A chestnut horse whinnies and blows out her cheeks as we approach, stamping her feet. Aston fastens a wooden cart to the horse's saddle, loaded with crates of fresh goods. He helps me into the seat at the front of the cart and he lifts the reins. The horse falls into step and we head north. As we move further from the eastern forest and closer to the river, Aston reaches behind him, snatching a dark grey cap from his trunk. He tosses me another hat.
He smirks at me, cocking his hat. "Don't you think this hat makes me look handsome? Like a prince."
"More like a fool."
The horse leads us to the bridge and the river. The river, which completely bisects the kingdom, separates the Convex Sector from the Concave Sector. A half-mile-wide body of water. At this end of the kingdom, the water glides across the riverbed like a snake. Some days, it's blue and green. On other days, it's grey and murky. When the kingdom first flourished 109 years ago, the king ordered landscaping along the river. There's a brick wall descending into the water, crisscrossed in green moss that dances with the current in soggy jade tendrils. It propelled the construction of the bridge. Now, we move onto the bridge, the cart rising over the low arch, and I laugh at one of Aston's crude jokes as we pass another carriage trampling in the opposite direction.
As we dismount the bridge, I lose myself in the disarray of senses. We pass a road teeming with people, drinking sparkling wine from fine goblets, picking at plates of bite-sized delicacies. The sweet and savoury aroma of unknown dishes almost sends me toppling out of the cart. Many of the women are dressed in gowns and corsets of various bright colours. The brighter and bustier the corset, the better. Men dress in colourful suits, too. Pale blue, orange, and red. Their slicked-back hair, clean-shaved faces, or groomed moustaches. I glance between Aston and me, dressed in threadbare tunics and trousers, stained with dirt, and sweat. My hair is tangled, and strands of straw spatter his head, matching the hair.
As we cross into the cobbled streets of the Concave Sector, the cartwheels bumping up and down like a nervous knee, I notice the... lack of surveillance. I know their training building is on this half of the kingdom, but I hardly spot any roaming these polished streets. The only Tranq I spot is hunched over a whiskey at a bar, cackling with his friends. For a moment, I spot him pointing at Aston and me.
We pass boutique shops for bridal gowns and other fancy garments. A group of young girls spills from the bridal shop, giggling like the peculiar birds in the forest that my father always adored. The horse leads us through a residential area of apartment buildings, with arches and mosaics decorating the walls. At last, we arrive at the palace. A monstrous structure composed of marble and hundreds of windows flecked with gold. Freshly trimmed lawns greet us, dewy and soft, as we wobble up the wide marble path to the palace gates. The guarding Tranqs only nod at us as the gates shudder, easing open.
We ride past the grand outdoor stairs, stopping at a side entrance to the palace. A slim Convex servant, distinguishable by their dull, grey frock and white apron, scurries out and helps us unload the crates of fresh produce into the palace kitchen. By the time we are done, the pantry and fridge are swelling with the food. As the sun races to drag the moon into the sky, we hasten the horse out of the palace grounds. Just before we cross the threshold of the gates, I turn around to stare at the enormous structure one last time. The gold glimmers in the waning sunset. That's when I see a figure standing in the window frame several stories high. Shrouded in a silhouette, I cannot pick up any features. But for the moving sun betrays him. A flash of green in his eyes renders my heart still.
I swear his gaze locks with my own. I flinch and whip around, staring at the horse's ears.
"Let's hurry home before Lyra worries," I say, withholding the tremble.
I open the kitchen pantry early the next morning, and I'm met with a cloud of dust bursting into my face. I scrunch my nose and wave my hand. My stomach growls on cue. The green eyes in the forest flash across my vision and my palms sweat. I need to figure out something.
Lyra steps into the kitchen, winding her thick red locks into a braid. "Will you go into the forest today?"
"No," I say. "Too many Tranqs in the farms. They will see me heading into the trees."
She clutches her empty stomach. "We need food, Elle."
"I know." I purse my lips, running a hand through my curls and frowning when I hit a knot. A bubble of irritation gnaws at my gut. "You know, it would be easier if you could work more. Earn money, so I don't have to risk my head for us almost every day."
Red creeps into her cheeks. "I can't, Elle. You know my hands are useless since the accident."
I blow out an unkind laugh. "If you hadn't fallen from the bloody ladder like an idiot, we might actually have a shot at surviving. But it's okay, as long as Elle puts her life on the line."
"I'm trying," she snaps, her cheeks going pink – just like our mother's once did when she got cross with us. "I am trying to help."
"Hardly!" I bark, slipping the knives into my belt to prove my point. "You work in the laundromat once a week. A poor effort. Especially when I break the law every day to keep your sorry arse from starving to death."
She glares at me, her eyes swelling with tears and the sight fuels the fury coursing through my veins.
"All you do is sit around and cry over mother and father's death," I say through gritted teeth, flinging the words at her like knives. I, at once, wish I could take them back.
Lyra huffs and her bony fingers curl into fists. "Insolent bitch." Her eyes drain of all warmth. Her icy glower slices into my heart.
I scrunch my fists, fire smouldering in my chest, and a hundred poison-dipped insults crackling on my tongue. But I swallow them back, for now, knowing my words are forged with the flame that my father passed to me. "Fine. I'm going to the forest then. Wonder if I'll make it back."
A curse flies from my mouth as I sling my rucksack over my shoulders, and march out of the apartment, stalking through the Convex Sector, past the farms. In the rush of farmers arriving at work for the morning, none of the Tranqs spot me slip into the shadows of the forest. Or at least, I hope.
My hands shake with the fire scorching through me. I tighten my jaw. But the fire is just a mask for the frightened girl hiding beneath. It looks like my death will happen no matter what I do. I either perish in the famine, or the king throws me beyond the walls, leaving me to whatever monster awaits.
Just as I leap over the stream and duck beneath a low-hanging branch, emerging in the clearing, my heart jumps to my throat. My skin crawls and the breath whooshes from my lungs.
Two Tranquillity prowl through the trees, like snakes hunting for an unsuspecting rat. The clank of their armour rattles around in my skull and an array of knives strapped to their belts glint in blades of sunlight cutting through the canopy. They both wear helmets. But one of them wears a helmet with enormous horns curled forwards. I drop to the ground, concealing myself within the bushes and cursing my telltale red curls. The Tranqs brandish their staffs, and I gulp at the spearheads gilded in that mocking sunlight.
My heart careens from beat to beat and I fear they will hear it. The breeze ruffles my hair and I send a silent curse to the Goddess of the Earth for her poor timing. My hands tremble as I reach for my knife, my father's knife with the family emblem carved into the wooden hilt. They slither into my clearing and spot the potato spouts.
"Looks like someone has a creative way of committing their crimes," one of them says, voice gruff.
The other chuckles, the sound so entwined with the shadows that I wonder if the man was borne from them. Trust them to find amusement in our starving misery. I spin the hilt of my blade. My legs burn from the uncomfortable squat. The first Tranq shakes his head before digging his heel into the soil. He yanks the potatoes from the dirt and stomps on them until they are crumbs. My stomach lurches into my throat as the Tranq grabs a small bottle of plant poison from his belt and pours it over the soil. They chuckle as the earth hisses and crackles.
Red burns across my vision and my muscles tremble with fresh burning waves. I lose my balance and topple over, rustling the surrounding bushes. The Tranqs snap their heads up. They hide behind the ebony-coated brass like lions in the grass, waiting only to strike when their prey isn't prepared to jump away.
"You!" one of them bellows, pointing at me.
My guts twist into a knot, and I scramble to my feet. But not quick enough. The Tranqs launch themselves at me, gripping my arms. They wrestle me to the ground as I wriggle and scream a string of curses.
"The king is going to have a field day with you," he says, pinning me to the ground.
"Go to hell," I spit, refusing to yield even a sliver of fear on my face. And yet, my heart clatters into my ribs like it wants to break free and flee into the safety of shadows. "Destroying a starving person's garden. Filthy cowards. The both of you."
I shoot a glare at the other Tranq standing idly. The Tranq pinning me snatches the blade from my hand and grazes it against my throat. Through the helmet, I can see the feral blaze in his eyes.
"Your garden, aye?" He presses the tip of the blade into my skin, and I cry out. "This land belongs to the king. This belongs to him. You belong to him."
"Then so do you. You are nothing but a pawn in his little game."
I kick out, and he flails, loosening his grip on the dagger. He curses as I shove him off me, rolling out from under him. We grapple and wrestle with one another, the blade waving around until I push him, and he gasps. The Tranq pulls his helmet off on instinct, lips quivering as he stares wide-eyed at the blade in his chest. Blood oozes from his ribs, dripping onto the forest floor. He collapses to the side. His mouth opens and closes, gurgling and dribbling bloody saliva until his eyes see no more.
The other Tranq stumbles backwards, panting and cursing. Panic claws through my ribs like a monster and I fight the scream stinging the back of my throat.
"Stay right there," the Tranq stammers. He spins around and crests the small mound, heading back into the town.
No.
With bile churning my insides, I grab my other knife from my belt and hurl it. The blade spins as it soars through the air and the Tranq lets out a strangled cry as it hits him. Tears blur my vision as his knees buckle.