We constantly hear about how we need to tighten our belts for the war effort, to make sacrifices so that soldiers could get what they needed to protect us.
But all the food we couldn’t have ended up here, in Bonded bellies. The fuel for our fires ended up in these hearths. The taxes and the lowered wages, too, all so that the Bonded could hire servants to open their doors for them and sleep on silky sheets.
We’reallputting our lives on the line in the war against the Siphons. Why should the Bonded get this luxury when soldiers on the frontline are struggling, when commoners are starving to death and living in fear?
What, because they have big scary direwolves?
I’m in a bit of a trance as Izabel picks a bed for us to share. She thuds her pack down, and I stand there a little numbly, remembering that I don’t have a pack any longer. I had to leave all my things up on top of the mountain, right next to my dignity.
Rest in peace.
I spot the store closet Egith mentioned and note to myself to grab some things to wear.
“We should eat,” Izabel says. “And clean up. But food first.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding absently.
By the time we make it back into the anteroom, the tables are laden with a feast. It smells amazing, like fresh bread and herbed meat and the gentle sting of wine.
I sit beside Izabel and load a plate, inhaling the food without a care for manners. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and it’s not just because I’m half-starved. I wouldn’t be able to afford a meal as nice as this with a week’s wages back home. People in Eastern don’t even make food like this, because no one would be able to buy it.
But it’ssogood. Rich and buttery. Spicy. Fatty. It’s bliss on a plate.
“Hungry?” Izabel teases as I chew.
I swallow and nod. “Fattening myself up for when Anassa decides to eat me. Want to make the experience nice for her.”
Izabel laughs. We eat in silence for a few more minutes and I consider refilling my plate, but my stomach already aches from the rich meal and the sheer amount of it that I’ve already downed.
“Ready to turn in?” Izabel asks.
“Fuck yes,” I reply, pushing my chair out and standing.
Back in the bunkroom, many of the Bonded are unloading bags and stocking their dressers, draping blankets over their beds, hanging curtains along their bunks for privacy.
I frown. “Did they have all that stuff in their packs?”
Izabel shakes her head. “No one would climb with a spare pillow in their bag. Our families deliver our things to the castle when we head to the Ascent.”
I scoff. “Presumptuous.”
A muscle in her jaw twitches as she drags a bag out from beneath our bed. “For a Bonded family, there’s no such thing as failure. If you fail to bond in your Trials, you’re out. You’re dead to them. Not one of them any longer.”
Bitterness seeps into my blood. None of this makes sense. None of this is just. This system grinds people up and spits us out.
I glance around, cursing under my breath. It’s going to be even more obvious that I don’t fit in here, what with my bare bunk and regulated clothing. As if my shiny silver hair and asshole of a direwolf weren’t bad enough already.
Not that I want to fit in here. My goal is Saela. I just need to live long enough to find a way out of here.
But that’s tomorrow’s problem.
I grab some old—but still soft and expensive—pajamas from the store closet, as well as new packs of underwear and auniform for tomorrow. Then, I head to the lavatories, changing quickly so the next girl can use my stall. The connected washroom is tempting, but I’m so exhausted that I can’t think of anything other than falling face-first into a pillow.
Back in the bunk room, I start to climb up to my top bunk, but Izabel stops me, her eyes filled with concern.
“Don’t let your guard down,” she says quietly. “Everyone’s wiped out tonight, but training has started and everyone is going to want to prove themselves as the strongest recruit in the pack.”
I nod. “I’m going to keep my head down. Don’t worry.”
