My mother, having thought she was done for the evening, had let me out of the closet, only to shove me back inside again when the guard burst through the door, his ale sloshing over the sides of his tankard, blood coating his lips.
Unfortunately for me, I had already moved my bedding to the other room and now had to endure being in here without the minor comforts I had before. The worst part of it was I doubted she’d let me out until morning now. I had a feeling that the guard was going to overstay his welcome.
I huffed in frustration, my breath creating a cloud as it touched the chilly air. Glaring at the door, my body trembledas the cold seeped into my bones, my anger the only thing warming my blood.
My mother was a favorite at the brothel in our village. Valinka’s star, as she liked to call herself. Valinka owned the brothel, which was connected to a small inn on the outskirts of Bevermere. Valinka was a shriveled, old, greedy woman who smelled of tobacco, which she smoked constantly. The smoke always hung around her, hovering in the air like a tainted cloud. It came from the same poorly whittled pipe that hung and bobbed from her lips, usually as she barked orders.
My mother didn't usually have clients visit our home, but with the selection ceremony happening in just a few days, more guards were arriving in anticipation of the queen's arrival. It meant the brothel was having a hard time keeping up with the demands of the men and women showing up at its doors. My mother had no choice but to accept them. Valinka would punish her if she were to turn them away. And we couldn’t afford to lose the money.
I had been told to expect the same life as my mother.
This, of course, came from Valinka mostly, and I knew she couldn’t wait for me to get older and start my training. If that ever happened, I’d run away. I’d rather be a source than ever work for that witch.
The selection ceremony was in two days, and that would ultimately decide my fate.
Everyone in the kingdom was tested at the age of seven, no matter their status. It was the law. Our blood was to be assessed and evaluated by the queen herself. She valued power above all else, and if your magic was strong enough, if you were lucky enough, you were selected—chosen and welcomed into her inner court.
If selected, you were taken and sent to Ironfell, our western village, to train.
For the next ten years, you would be provided with an education, combat training, comforts, and safety one could only dream of.
When you graduated at the age of seventeen, they gave you an occupation, and a place in society. Most were placed with her armies for further training, while others were paired off to reproduce and strengthen magical bloodlines. The rest settled back into villages or into court life, offered wealth and jobs. All of them cared for and protected.
But if your blood wasn’t powerful enough and the queen deemed you unworthy, like my mother had been, you were left to fend for yourself. You would have to claw and fight for jobs, food, clothing, and shelter. Unless you came from a family with money, it was as good as a death sentence.
Most found work where they could, becoming servants, working on farms or in kitchens. And if you couldn’t find work there, then there were other jobs—such as working for people like Valinka. And then there was always the option of becoming a source.
Blood sources were typically used in brothels, mixing pleasure with power. However, most sources got sent to private homes, to the nobility. They were passed around and used like cattle at parties or treated like personal slaves. But they were also gifted fine clothing, offered a warm bed, and paid enough money to keep their bellies full and their families sheltered.
It was frowned upon to kill sources, but that didn’t mean it didn't happen.
If the queen didn’t find what she was looking for in my blood in two days, I didn’t think I would survive in this world. I would be sent back home, forced to continue to scrape by for clothes and food. Forced to fight to survive while those chosen and deemed worthy got a warm bed and hot food every day.
My mother wasn’t deemed worthy… why would I?
My shoulders slumped at the thought. I was a nobody, a bastard to an unknown male who paid my mother and left.
A silent tear ran down my face, and I angrily wiped at it.
The ugly truth of it all was that if my blood was not deemed worthy at that ceremony, I would be just like my mother on the other side of this door, or dead.
My palm landed on the sticky wooden floor and I quickly snatched it back up as I repositioned myself in the small space. The wood at my back pressed into my spine and I shifted uncomfortably, pulling my knees into my chest. A shiver ran through me as I felt the odd sensation of someone watching me. My heart raced and then something sharp and ringing ran through my skull, making me clutch my head. The darkness seemed to swirl around me, and that only frightened me more.
Something touched my cheek, and I screamed, only for no sound to pass my lips. The pain in my skull became unbearable, and the shadows seemed to seep into me, making everything fuzzy until I faded away.
*
I pulled at the loose red threads of my dress nervously as I joined the line of children in the village square. The dress was too small on me, but it was the only one in my closet that fit. We hadn’t been able to afford a new one for the ceremony. It was either a new dress or food, and we had chosen food.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves, but ended up gagging on the obnoxious amount of perfume my mother had accidentally dumped on me this morning.
My cheeks warmed at the thought of facing the queen smelling like this.
My mother wasn’t usually a nervous person, and I found it odd to see her so flustered. I watched her this morning braid and re-braid her long blonde hair at least five times. Her bright blue eyes glazed as if she were far away, just going through the motions. I knew she wanted what was best for me, but I also knew how much it would hurt her if I were chosen. If I were to be separated from her. I'd tried to reassure her, to let her know the perfume didn't bother me, but she'd brushed me off and continued making us breakfast. There hadn't been time to shower or wash my dress so I had to deal with it.
Scanning the line of children ahead of me, I searched for the familiar red glint of my friend, but she must not be here yet. My chest fell slightly. What if today was the last time I would see her?
I shook the thoughts away as I felt a small tap on my shoulder. My mood instantly lifted as I turned to find a petite, red-haired girl grinning at me.
