I packed two outfits of ours, certain that I would also be issued a uniform. I also grabbed my disguise supplies—the items I used on a daily basis to make myself Milo. I additionally slid the small rectangular cloths I used for my menses in the bag, trying to think of how I could explain them if they were going to go through my bags when I arrived at the barracks. I eyed my potion-making supplies, but shook my head as I realized they would be useless without the plants currently growing in our garden.
As I was packing, Collum came to lean against the door, her eyes filled with concern for me. “Runa . . .” She breathed. She didn’t need to say anything more; I could practicallyfeel her panic. The sound of my name on her lips was like a vise around my heart. But I couldn’t let myself get caught up in my emotions now. There was no time. “If I go, he can stay enrolled,” was all I said, keeping my gaze on my rapidly moving hands.
“But . . . war . . . Runa, what if you die?”
My chin shot up, my teeth digging into my lip. She had a point, but . . .
“We always knew that was a possibility.” I sighed. “At least this way, he can have a full life. Maybe even marry Helene like he wants.”
Her silence was an answer in and of itself.
My heart was constricting, knowing I would never see her or Milo again, but I wasn’t surprised either. I had known for several years now that my parents had doomed us, and that we were living on borrowed seasons. It was only a matter of time before their carefully-constructed façade fell apart.
At least with this method of crumbling, Milo had a chance.
I just wish I had been able to bid him goodbye the night before. I bit my lip now, thinking of my last words to him, how angry I had been about the forced tattoo.
My ribs panged at the mention.
He would know the truth; I was sure of it.
Finished with my hasty packing, I threw my bag over my shoulder, standing to my full height to hug my cousin before pushing past her toward the door.
“Wait,” she said, ducking into her room to grab a small black book lined with gold, which she pressed into my hand.
One glance told me the book was in the Seid language. My parents had taught all three of us to speak it, but never to repeat it to anyone. “Just in case you need it,” she whispered, tears glistening on her cheeks.
It was asking for trouble, packing this book. But I did so anyway, pausing to press it to the very bottom of my bag. Now, I would certainly be killed if there were mandatory bag checks. I brushed that thought aside—this was a death sentence forme no matter how we looked at it, and there was no avoiding it. Despite doing everything possible to be just like my brother, I wasn’t built to survive a war. Then again, neither was he. Our parents had made sure of that.
Not knowing what else to say, and seeing no reason to drag this out, I gripped my cousin to me one final time, “I love you Collum. Thank you for everything. Forget I ever existed. Be happy.”
Tears brimming in my eyes, I didn’t look back as I stepped through the door and out into the blinding sunlight.
“Excellent.” Viscount Adis grinned on the stoop. He was a tall man, nearly a head taller than Milo and I, with a trim figure that was always dressed to impress. Even now, as I took in his blue coat with gold buttons, and his knee-length gray breeches, which were a much better cut than my own, I couldn’t say he was unattractive. Pair that with golden hair, which was always swept back, he was known for always having his choice of women falling at his feet . . . as long as you could ignore his onyx black eyes, which seemed to peer directly into your soul.
I shuddered and looked away, taking notice that he was flanked by two soldiers dressed in similar dark blue uniforms. I rarely saw soldiers in this part of Ralheim, as they tended to go directly from the barracks at the edge of town to the battlefield, and it surprised me that their uniforms were so . . . plain.
The last time I had seen one so up close was when I was ten, and peeking out from behind my mother’s skirts for the king’s parade. The king, who had waved from the back of a grand horse before dooming the citizens of Ralheim to a shortened lifetime under one of the most hated viscounts of all time. The brass buttons of the guard’s uniforms flashed in my memory, in the afternoon breeding-season sun, as they walked in a protective circle around the one-eyed viscount who’d barely glanced beyond his nose as they walked by.
That was Adis’ father.
I squinted. Maybe the uniforms hadn’t changed, but my understanding had.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Viscount Adis chuckled. “These are my personal guards. Your uniform will look different, I assure you.”
I moved to step off our small porch, but the way his eyes appraised me, seeming to drink me in, caused me to pause mid-step.
“You’re a scraggly thing. I don’t think General Otho will be pleased.”
I bit my tongue, something I had learned to do over the years. It was his high taxes that ensured most of Ralheim remained in poverty. His trade wars which cut us off from the rest of Heimland. Though I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, I restrained myself. Emotions were liable to reveal our secret, and I had to hide them. Something I had always done better than my brother. I swallowed everything I felt, my stomach aching, my eyes trained, expressionless, on his.
I’d never met General Otho, but I’d heard rumors of his legendary swordsmanship.
“It’s not my decision to make. Come.” He said nothing else before turning to walk back toward the cobblestone street, his two guards waiting for me to follow him before falling in behind me. As if I would try to run.
The thing about running is you had to have somewhere to go, and I had none.
My feet felt like stones, and with each step we took from my childhood home, the pressure of what was to come seemed to weigh on me more heavily. My stomach churned as I felt the pinpricks of pain at my side from my tattoo the day before. Today was supposed to be Milo’s day at home. Milo should have been the one trudging out of town with nothing more than a backpack to his name. Milo should have been the one going to war.
