My mother never cried.
Hands grabbed my arms and carried me to the chest, dropping me inside.
“Etarla, look at me.” My mother gripped my face. “Do not make a sound. Not a single sound, whatever happens. We love you.” And then she pushed my head down and closed the lid on me.
Darkness was everywhere. I wasn’t scared of the dark, but I was scared of my father’s pale face and my mother’s tears.
The chest slid, and then I stopped moving.
There was a slam.
“Please, please don’t—” The pleas from my mother suddenly stopped.
A man laughed, and there was a bang.
More scuffling, and then my father said, “Why are you doing this?”
A voice, darker and meaner than any I’d ever heard, responded, “Because I can.”
Slowly, I shifted and lifted the lid a crack. My mother and father were on the ground. A big man, naked from the waist up, stood in the middle of the room, facing away from me. There was blood all over him, but there was a spiral of white in the center of his back, like circles around each other that all connected.
He turned.
My eyes snapped open.
Soft sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the small particles of dust floating through the air.
I wasn’t surprised by the dream. I had it often, usually when I was stressed or sick. It was the only memory I had of the night beforeMerelda found me, and it was one of the few memories of my birth parents. It used to wake me in a cold sweat, but repetition had dulled its impact.
I sat up, bruises flaring to life. Last night slammed into me with the force of a stallion. Harthon had said I’d need energy for today. I hoped that energy didn’t require fully functioning body parts.
Sliding from the bed, I found water and a bowl of porridge waiting. I ate in silence, my aching cheek grateful for the mushy texture. I was examining the discoloration along my face in the mirror when Frannie and Felda burst into the room.
“Did you eat?” Felda demanded. Already, she was scowling. She probably frowned in her sleep, too.
I nodded in response.
“Change and sit. There’s no time for slowness,” she snapped.
Frannie bustled around me, depositing a pile of clothes on the dresser.
Felda scooped the basin of dirty water and rushed to the door. “You had better be changed by the time I return.”
I swung my head toward Frannie. “What’s going on?”
Worry pinched her features. “Princeps Harthon called a Citadel gathering. He’s requested that you be there, and it starts very soon. Could you get dressed?” She extended a deep purple tunic and black trousers to me.
“What’s a Citadel gathering?” I asked, stripping and pulling on the clothes as Frannie turned her back.
“Everyone in the Citadel goes to the training grounds for an announcement. Only a few essential workers stay behind. Princeps Harthon has only ever called one once before, and it was bad.”
“How bad?”
“Two of the woodworkers were caught doing terrible things to a woman. He gutted them in front ofeveryone.”
My attackers from last night were already dead, so Harthon either had other topics in mind, or there would be no gutting today. Frannie handed me a leather vest. This one was black like the others I’d worn, but the textured front was even thicker. It was almost like armor.
I’d just secured the ties when Felda returned. She dropped the basin on a table and pointed at me. “Rinse your face and clean your teeth.”
