Brylee doesn’t respond immediately, probably afraid the guards are listening from behind us. Instead, she clips the cape around my neck and begins styling my hair.
There are two standard hairstyles. Formal, which is a smoothed back ponytail made to look fuller and bushier through brushing the hair up with a comb and hairspray. And normal mission attire, which is a single braid down the middle of the hair or two braids on either side. For some reason, we’re allowed that one choice.
“Formal?” Brylee asks, and I nod, picking up the book on the side table. “You know the rules, PX-3. No reading what is not assigned.”
The guards lining the room behind us look over at me, their reflections in the small mirror in front of me giving away their sudden interest, as if expecting me to rebel.
I don’t take the bait.
“Then why is it there?”
Brylee sighs, not offering a lie like the other leaders would. Instead, she grabs the book from my hands and places it out of my reach on a table to her right. The guards seem to relax behind us.
But I know they’re watching, listening. Even if they pretend to be disinterested.
They always are.
“Decoration, I think. If you’re feeling brave, you could always ask the Madam or Major.” I won’t. I’m not an idiot, and asking a question like that is guaranteed to get me at least three days in the chair.
I wish I could read a book, just one. With a real story, like the stories Bella tells us about.
I took pity on Bella in the beginning; she was so shy all the time, so cautious not to talk to anyone. Even when I tried, Bella would never talk. Eventually, we managed to get a whisper from her, and now we can’t keep her quiet if it’s safe to talk.
When Bella first joined, everyone was shocked to see anyone joining this late, considering the rest of us had been here for at least a few years.
And then, when Bella had finally settled in, her assigned partner died on a mission; her first mission. Since then, they have always kept her as a spare, in case someone else’s partner dies on a mission, so they can re-group them together.
Though she usually just ends up with Kylie, another spare.
Once, Bella told us a story about when Zones didn’t exist. How everyone lived amongst each other in real houses, not just assigned housing in the apartments. The structure of the world before.
The world I don’t remember.
But she hasn’t spoken about that again since then, no matter how much I begged for her to. Instead, she told other stories, stories of something called relationships. Where two people meet, and the timing is just right, and they fall in love.
I doubt I’ll ever experience love. I’m not sure that’s an emotion I’m capable of.
Loving a person seems as pointless as letting traitors live. Why would anyone give someone the power to betray them like that?
But the stories of the beaches caught me the most. Of course, we learned about them in our training; they have a delicate surface called sand, and it is where the ocean meets the land, but I have never seen one myself.
At least that I can remember.
“Alright, hair is done. Time for face, you know the drill by now.” Brylee’s voice pulls me back, reminding me where I am.
I close my eyes as she begins to do my makeup. It doesn’t take much longer before Brylee finishes the look, adding mascara and false lashes. It’s simple but still noticeable, just how Madam likes it.
The sinking feeling in my stomach comes back for the first time in years, which is apparently more obvious than what I would have liked. Brylee sighs and looks around the room to make sure we are alone before speaking, the guards now gone from behind us.
“Darlia, if anyone can come back from a mission, it’s you. Don’t let your mind cloud your judgement. You’re smart. You know better than to question the judgement of the Overseer, it will get you killed.”
Brylee’s careful to make it look like she is continuing my makeup, her brush stoking against my cheek while she talks. Just in case someone is watching.
Someone is always watching.
“This is different, I’ve never been on a mission with no information. Something is off about this.” She sighs again, taking the brush from my face. We both watch as a guard walks over, effectively ending the conversation.
“PX-3 you have been summoned,” a deep voice commands behind the guard’s mask.
