The Sentinels take me to a small room with wide windows and no bed. A dressing table and a tall wardrobe resides in one corner. A flush chair in another. They push Daphne into the silver chair and make me stand in the centre of the room. I look at her round cheeks, dry tears mark them. I want to embrace her tightly, make sure they didn't hurt her.
The door opens and I'm pushed to my knees by the Sentinel holding the cuffs around my wrists. I would laugh if I wasn't so angry. I could melt or break or slip out of these cuffs with a snap of a finger, but I can't. If I mess up, that'll mean someone will get hurt. Me or Daphne, it could be anyone. So, I let them push me around.
I lift my head and see four maids. All of them I know. All of them I work with. Worked with.
I look up and their eyes widen and expressions turn to confusion. They then duck their head and look away. Having worked here for nearly a year, I understand why.
Say nothing. Here nothing. You are nothing here, they say. The most important rules a Red servant must obey whilst in this jail.
I'm risen to my feet by the Sentinels. They remove the hand ties and Roselyn, one of the Red maids, places a piece of folded paper in my hand. I open it and glance at the black ink.
Step out of line, and one of them will get hurt.
Her Royal Highness Queen Elara of House Merandus.
I look up at their blank faces. I do something wrong, anyone of them could be tortured or kill. I crunch the piece of paper into a ball in my hand and blow out a breath to refrain myself from screaming. I glance at Daphne's small frame and still eyes. They aren't my friends, but they are the closest thing to it. I know these maids too well to see them dead or hurt. So, I do as I'm told. I let them bathe me. I let them dry and wave my long hair. I let them cover me with the white paste used on Silver's to make their complexion look paler. They don't apply enough to take away the warmth in my skin, but just enough to make me different. I'm not pale enough to be a Silver, yet my skin misses the natural blush of a Red.
The I remember who I'm supposed to be. A Silver and a Red.
They don't look at my scars when the four of them dress me. They don't ask me any questions about them, because they aren't aloud.
The gown is a deep red. The gown is the colour of blood. My blood.
Red.
I don't belong to a specific house. So, they choose to put me in a gown that I relate to. It's plain, floor length and displays my figure. The gown attempts to hide my hard knots and my visible strength. The top half is made out of some lace with long sleeves and a collar covering my scars, and then the rest is made of a thick silk. It's simple.
They finish painting my lips with a colour that matches my gown and darkly decorate my eyes. I look menacing. I look fearless. I look beautiful. They're torturing me.
"As wonderful and happy as today has been, I must remind you why this choice has been made. The might of House Samos joined with my son, and all his children to follow, will help guide our nation. You all know the precarious state of our kingdom, with war in the north and foolish extremists, enemies to our way of life, attempting to destroy us from within. The Scarlet Guard might seem small and insignificant to us, but they represent a dangerous turn for our Red brothers."
The entire room scoffs at the term brothers, myself included.
"Should this rebellious streak take hold, it will end in bloodshed and a divided nation, something I cannot bear. We must maintain the balance. Evangeline and Mareena will help do that, for the sake of us all."
"But," Elara adds, "there is another that will assist our war torn nation. We saw two girls fall into the arena like a bolt of lightning, one of which - as we saw - posses more then one ability." The entire room erupts in shouts and anger.
"Please," the king stands. The room hushes. "I understand this is an impossibility. But this is a miracle in disguise. We have intensely interviewed this Red servant and discovered she is neither Silver nor Red, she is both. She may bleed red, but is in fact born to a Red mother and a disgraced silver at the war front. This girl has been scared by this nations one flaw." The entire room in furious.
"Angelika Edna Katerina Gatley."
With the sound of her name being called by the king, she ascends the stairs. Bathed in blood Red silk and powder that pales her skin slightly, she is contrasted against every Silver in the room. She looks neither Silver or Red, but it is obvious by her clothing she is supposed to be lesser then everyone. She is dressed in a simple elegant gown whilst others are wearing joules and diamonds and flush material. It's sickening. I didn't think it were possible to hate them more. I don't dare think what they are going to do to her.
The king gestures for Ava to stand in front of them both and the crowd.
She comes to a stop and gazes at us. Ava's head is help high and her face still. She almost looks as if she could break the room in half with only her gaze.
"Being raised on the war front, Angelika is already a keen fighter and soldier. Although medically discharged, Angelika will receive extra training at the palace to ensure a full recovery." The king turns to her. Ava turns to us.
"With my new found abilities," she starts, her voice strong, "I have decided it is only right and just of me to return to the war front and take my place as a soldier of Norta once more. It is my wish to aid this rightful nation to victory using the abilities I am blessed with."
I would have scoffed if Elara's eyes were not on me. This is all lies. Ava doesn't wish to return to war, she's being forced to, threatened to. While everyone here is eating it all up, I know the truth. They are holding something over both our heads. We are being forced to do this by our enemies, and I loath them for it.
I don't know what to expect the first day here at the palace. After the feast last night, I was escorted to a room with Daphne asleep inside. I had had enough of the entire event, I didn't even bother changing. I fell asleep next to Daphne.
I wake up to golden light shining through the window. Daphne's still asleep next to me when I wake, her short blonde hair covering her face. I lie on my back looking up at the high ceiling, I had given up looking for a clock in this room. It's one of the smallest rooms here in the palace, but lavish.
I look at the dark drapes and my mind wonders back to the war. The torturous sleep, the smoke, the bombs and guns. Having never grown up in a house with a bed or table, this was all new to me after being discharge after the attack. Although, I quickly adapted. Coming from the war, it's something we're taught to do. I was moved around most of my life. Taught different things at different times.
Whenever I throw a punch or kick, I always she their faces. Eventually, you forget who you're fighting. You forget who you're killing if you're there for long enough. That is what happened to me. No one knows who or what they're fighting for. Land? Money? Weapons? Maybe all three. Maybe more.
The large doors open. Three Sentinels walk in, behind them the same four maids as last night. I blow out a breath when I see they are all unharmed and alive. I didn't step out of line or run my tongue.
A tray is laid on the bed. Two glasses of water, fruit, and bread sit on it. I stare at it for a long moment, coming to sudden realisation this is my life now. Eat, train, then back to war. There isn't much left to the imagination. I frown. But finally give Daphne the bread, water, fruit and eat some myself. Then the Sentinels leave, but I know they are outside the door. Guarding me. No. Keeping me here.
The four maids wait and stand with their heads lowered. I stand, the gown dragging behind me.
"You can speak you know," I offer. "The Sentinels are gone for now."
Three keep their heads down, but Roselyn lifts hers slightly. She gives me a small smile, but her eyes are filled with sadness and what looks like pity. Then I notice the clothing and shoes in her hands.
They feel pity for me, because they know what's to come.
I wash myself. I let the cold water run over my body for as long as I can, but then I'm pulled back to reality. Within minutes, I'm dressed. I look at my reflection. With the make up long gone, my face is left with a bruised cheek, split lip and cut eyebrow. I'm wearing trousers that end just below my knees and a training bra. Both are made out of a very tight but stretchy material. I can move freely, but the bra hugs my chest tightly, unfortunately. The pants are black, and the bra the colour of my blood. My shoes are the same. The colour of blood, light and suitable to run in with good grip.
The tight pants only reach my hip bone, and the bra only covers my chest. Leaving everything in the middle - bare.
A large dark purple bruise resides on my rib cage. I look at my scars in the long mirror. I let my fingertips graze over the long scar at the base of my neck, running across my collarbone and disappearing under my shoulder. Another on my forearm, then a couple more on the opposite arm. The most noticeable ones are on my abdomen.
I sigh at the jagged scar just below my ribcage. The memory of being stabbed still with me. Another scar resides three inches away from my belly button. Bullet. I turn. The clothing doesn't hide the long scar that begins at the nape of my neck, curving and just missing my shoulder blade. The memory of a knife, comes to mind. Some shrapnel scars lace my back too, from when I was stationed at the Choke. With most of my calves being exposed to, I see the barbed wire scar leading from my right ankle, shrivelling to a stop half way up my calf. Little cuts and minor scars lace my body, too. I fail to remember where or when I earned them all. I frown.
"They make you look strong," A small whisper rises behind me.
I turn, expecting it to be Daphne, but she still resides on the bed. Then I notice Roselyn's head lift slightly. My hand goes to the scar on my stomach. The other three lift their heads too, nodding slightly. I smile.
"They're making you wear that," Alba whispers, standing next to Roselyn. "They're making you wear that so they can show you off, and your scars." She must have overheard a conversation.
"I think they're trying to prove something," Katryn whispers then. "Make you more intimidating to the Silvers. They don't like the fact your blood is red, it makes the High Houses angry."
Their whispers remind me of where I am. Having served the Silver's long enough, I understand they will never adjust to me. I then realise women are not permitted to show this much skin in front of an audience, so there must be a reason why my scars are being displayed. I realise they are risking their lives to tell me this.
Daphne comes to stand by my side, then reaches for my hand. I hold it tight. She has an innocent smile on her face, but her eyes are full of dread. What are they going to do with her?
"Do you know what's supposed to happen to us today?" I lean in and ask quietly.
The fourth maid, Clee, leans in. "I heard you are supposed to be training today," she whispers. "Don't underestimate them," she gives me a grave look.
A Red servant see's and hears a lot, despite being told we are nothing. I don't have a clue who them could be, nor do I want to know. But my worry flies back to the twelve year old girl next to me, and I give her hand a hard squeeze.
"What about-"
They shake their heads gently, knowing what my question would be. Their answer - they had not heard anything said about Daphne.
I'm so sorry it's been so long. It's just been so busy with school and everything, but I will try my best to update as soon as I can from now on. Leave a review if you enjoyed!
