A collective agonizing groan tears through the recruits. The sound—primal and guttural—echoes against the walls. I quickly scan the ground for any scraps from earlier but findnone. They’re breaking us down physically to make us more desperate, more vicious. It will work.
“Dismissed,” Voss barks. “Back to your cells.”
As we file out, I notice Handler Selen has descended from her observation platform. She stands near the exit, watching each recruit pass with that same calculating gaze. When I approach, she steps directly into my path.
“Interesting strategy, Four-Three-Seven,” she says, voice cool and precise. “You protected the weak one.”
I keep my expression neutral. “I protected an ally.”
“Allies become liabilities quickly here.”
“Or they keep you alive when you're not looking.”
Something flickers in her sharp eyes—not approval, exactly, but that now-familiar assessment. “Most recruits learn to abandon compassion before training is complete,” Selen says, stepping closer. The other handlers are distracted with herding recruits, leaving us in a moment of relative privacy. “It slows them down. Makes them vulnerable.”
“Maybe,” I concede, meeting her gaze directly. “Or maybe they misunderstand what strength really is.”
Her eyes narrow. “And what do you think strength is, Four-Three-Seven?”
“Surviving without becoming what they want us to be,” I blurt almost without thinking, but I realize it’s the truth. If they think our crimes make us pliable, make us theirs to shape, that our desperation can be manipulated into a weapon, I’ll be damned if I let it happen the way they want.
For a moment, something shifts in her expression—a flicker of something I can't identify. Again, not quite approval—perhaps recognition?
“An interesting theory,” she says finally. “I look forward to watching it fail.”
“Is that what you write in your little book?” I ask, nodding toward the ledger tucked under her arm. “Predictions about who breaksfirst?”
“I record potential,” she replies, her voice dropping slightly. “Those worth watching. Those worth training.” She leans in, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of something clean and herbal beneath the omnipresent dragon musk. “Those worth saving.”
Before I can respond, she turns sharply and calls to a nearby handler. “This one needs additional conditioning. Mark her for extended training tomorrow.”
The handler nods, making a note in his own ledger. Selen gives me one last inscrutable look before striding away, her posture rigid and authoritative.
“What was that about?” Lira asks, appearing at my side. She supports Ellis with one arm, the scholar's face pale beneath his bruises.
“I'm not sure,” I admit. “Either special attention or special punishment.”
“With a handler, probably both,” Lira mutters.
We're herded back through the cavernous, dimly-lit corridors toward our cells. My stomach cramps painfully with every step, desperate for more nourishment. Around me, other recruits look equally haggard, their faces drawn with hunger and exhaustion.
At a junction in the corridor, guards begin separating us again, shoving men to the right, women to the left. Ellis's eyes widen with panic as he's forced away from us.
“I'll find you later,” I call to him, though I have no idea if that's even possible. “Stay small, stay smart.”
He nods once before disappearing into the crowd of male recruits. The brief alliance we'd formed in the training yard feels suddenly fragile, fractured by the Ironhold's rigid segregation.
“He won't last a week,” comes a voice behind me.
I turn to find the muscular tavern keeper, her face barely marked despite the morning's violence. A thin cut above Nyx’s eyebrow is her only visible injury.
“You underestimate him,” I say, though doubt gnaws at me.
Nyx falls into step beside me as we're herded back toward thewomen's cells. “I saw you in the combat session. You move like someone who's had to fight for everything.”
“Haven't we all?” I gesture around at our fellow recruits.
“Not all like you.” Her eyes are shrewd, evaluating. “You could have taken Krall down permanently if you'd wanted to. Why didn't you?”
