Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2)

by Janet McNulty

  Before Sheila can ask me what it is, and before I can elaborate, a harsh bang echoes throughout the manor, rattling the doors and windows, and I’m afraid that some of the glass might break. “Hide,” I hiss at her, afraid of what approaches us.

  She darts away, rounding a corner just as Molers enters the hallway and finds me hunched over with a pool of vomit by my feet and a few splatters on my boots.

  He snorts. “You always did have a weak constitution”—he steps toward me—“unable to withstand the harshest of environments.”

  I straighten myself, determined to not show fear as it will only encourage him, hardening my face, shoving all thoughts of Chase, the bombing, Gwen’s loss, and Sheila’s bruise aside.

  “Tell me,” he says, putting his face inches from mine, allowing me to smell the stale leftovers of his lunch, “what did happen at the mines?”

  I glare at him, refusing to answer, unsure of what he knew, or pretended to know. Molers always seems to know things, but how he gets his information is a mystery, but one of his favorite tactics is to pretend to know everything so as to scare his victim into talking. “You are not my commanding officer,” I reply in a cold tone.

  “Don’t test me, Noni. You know what happens when you do.”

  I know what happens. The vapor from his breath moistens my skin, thrusting me back to my earliest memory of him. It was my seventh year. If a recruit managed to pass the first tests of their strength and resolve, they were introduced to Molers, who not only excelled at breaking people’s spirits so that they could be molded into perfect drones, always willing to do as they are told, but he enjoyed it as well. Power drives him. Nothing makes Molers happier than proving that he is more powerful than you. On this particular day, I had asked him why we were to obey his orders, and he saw it as a challenge, one to be met head on and subdued. In response to my boldness, Molers punched me in the stomach until I vomited, but I soiled his boots, angering him even more. To teach me a lesson, he grabbed me by the back of the head and shoved my face into the bile,—I still remember the acrid smell smothering my nose and bits of it went into my nostrils and my mouth, staining my tongue with its acid taste—causing me to choke and gag as I fought for air. I don’t know what possessed me, but I had grabbed a stick and sliced the back of his hand with its uneven edge, forcing him to let go, and if it hadn’t been for the commandant stepping in at that moment, I’m certain it would have been the end of me.

  “I’m not the same frightened recruit that you taught back at the training facility,” I say to him.

  A smile creeps across his face. “I’m sure you’re not.”

  “Is there a problem here?” Renal stands in the hallway, having snuck in without either of us knowing, putting himself between me and Molers just like last time when Molers tried to choke me.

  “No, sir,” Molers says as he stands up. “Shouldn’t you be at the Command Division?”

  “The commander of that region is handling it and has relieved me of my post, for the moment, not that it is any of that is your concern,” replies Renal.

  The commander’s decision is prudent. Though Renal has healed from the beating he received at the hands of Commandant Gant’s men, he is far from ready for duty.

  “I heard you were quite the mess when they recovered you from the mines,” taunts Molers.

  “Why don’t you challenge me and find out?” Renal says, closing the distance between them, “or do you prefer those you view as weak because you lack the strength to defeat a real challenge?”

  Molers eyes darken as a scowl covers his face, but before he can respond, Commander Vye steps out of her office and stops the moment she sees us. Her eyes settle upon me.

  “Noni! Get in my office.”

  “She should report to—”

  “I didn’t ask you!” Commander Vye cuts Molers off.

  I do as I am told, but keep a watchful eye on Molers and Commander Vye, sensing a power struggle between them and wonder what had happened while I was gone.

  She turns to Renal. “You should go rest.”

  Renal salutes her and steps away, but he doesn’t go far, choosing to remain close in case Molers tries something.

  “And you,” she turns toward Molers, “don’t you have someplace to be?”

  Molers salutes her, but his disdain for her is evident, and stalks off, leaving through the front door.

  Not wanting to give Commander Vye a reason to take her frustrations out on me, I hurry into her office and stand at attention in front of her desk, waiting for her to sit in the only chair in the room. She does so, in the same manner that she had on my first day within the eastern sector, making me wonder if I had disappointed her, and I remember how I once wanted to be as strong as her. Such memories remind me that I have failed, again.

  “You have yet to file your report on your time outside the wall and to clarify what happened at the mines.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when I have been called to the council for questioning, or when I am busy helping those caught in the midst of a bombing?”

  I could bite my tongue for allowing myself to talk to her in such a manner, but I no longer care if my attitude angers her. I am tired of being yelled at, of being talked down to, of being expected to kiss the behind of everyone in a more powerful position than me out of fear of punishment. Silence looms between us, broken only by the pattering of the rain as the sky darkens just beyond the window, threatening to send another storm our way, causing Commander Vye to appear as a silhouette in shadow—a panther waiting to strike. Only the whites of her eyes can be seen.

  “I see you haven’t lost any of your balkiness,” she growls.

  “My apologies, commander,” I say, realizing that Commander Vye does not deserve my anger. She did not murder Chase or those people at the mine, nor is she responsible for the bombing.

  “I expressed my concerns to Tapiwa about sending you there on your own, but she refused to listen.”

  “Did you not believe in me?” I ask without permission, sounding like a child and feeling inadequate.

  “I have complete faith in you, Noni,” replies Commander Vye, “but you weren’t ready. The outside world is harsh, crueler than what we have here within the walls of Arel. I don’t know what games Tapiwa is playing, but—I know I’ve told you this before—be careful.”

  I say nothing. What can I say? Her concern is genuine and it throws me off-guard.

  “What happened at the mines?”

  “Commandant Gant treated it like his own… city with him as the president. He did not like me being stationed there and viewed me as a threat.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “He did not like the changes that I proposed.”

  “Changes, such as, making sure the workers there had adequate food and water? Some might view that as going soft.”

  “It was logical.”

  “Explain it then.”

  I’m being tested. “The workers were overworked and half-starved. No one, not even the healthiest individual can work in those conditions without adequate food and water. If you want them to perform, then you need to give them what they need. I did what I had to in order to increase production.”

  Commander Vye rises to her feet and glances out the window for a moment, watching the rain as it falls from the sky and streams down the grimy glass, leaving clear streaks that form vertical rivers in the dirt. “And the plebeian boy?”

  A lump forms in my throat as a stinging tickle takes its hold on it, threatening to force me to release the tears I have been holding back all day, waiting for when I am alone and allowed a moment of privacy. How does she… Of course, she knows. Tapiwa might have told her of his demise to test her knowledge of our relationship, of my fondness for him. I swallow back the tears, forming the words I need to say, hoping that my voice sounds even and unemotional. “We all have our needs.”

  She faces me, studying me, reading my body language as I will myself not to cry, not to show weakn
ess or any sign that I am undeserving of being an arbiter. “I suggest you put that same amount of candor in your report.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “File your report in the morning, and when you’re done, meet me on the green. For now, go get some rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I salute her and leave her office, wondering why she wants me to meet her on the green tomorrow.

  As I make my way to the stairs, I glance around for Sheila, but find no sign of her. The first step creaks a little when I place my foot on it, causing me to wince a little, even though I’m not sneaking around, but I hate making so much noise. My hand catches the nick in the railing as I make my way upstairs, pricking my skin just a little, but I don’t register it as the tears build in the back of my throat and well in my eyes, blurring my vision. I need to get to my room, to a place where I will not be seen. I reach the end of the upstairs hallway and hurry to the door to my room, desperate to get away from potential prying eyes. The door slides open with a soft whoosh and I rush inside, stopping the moment I see the figure sitting on my bed, almost losing what little control I have left over my actions and emotions.

  Chase.

  We lock eyes, and disbelief wafts over me, making me a little light-headed as I refuse to believe what my eyes see: Chase sitting on the bed, causing no wrinkle to form on the blanket, with his hands folded in his lap. “They told me to wait here for you,” he says, his voice calm and controlled as he struggles not to betray his thoughts, and feelings.

  A soft thud sounds behind me as the door to my room closes. Tapiwa lied to me. As I think back to our conversation and the way she questioned me, it becomes clear: she wanted to know if I am the heartless arbiter I should be, or if I have become like so many that had disappeared before me, and so she lied and measured my reaction. Did I pass, bitch? Something moist touches my cheek as the tears I have held back all day break free of their prison and gush forth, stinging my eyes and turning them red. Chase hurries to me and wipes them off my cheek with a gentle touch before they can drip past my chin, and I charge into his arms, wanting nothing more than to be held by him, elated that he is alive and not hurt, considering the last memory I have of him is of me trying to get to him after the Arelian aircraft destroyed the mine.

  “I thought they had executed you,” he whispers to me.

  “Gwen,” my mouth speaks her name just as it pops into my head.

  “Sheila saw me being led in here,” replies Chase. “I’m sure she has told Gwen, but I haven’t seen her yet.”

  As I bury myself into his arms with a multitude of emotions reeling through me in a swarm, each wanting to be acknowledged, a sense of peace fills me, but so does anger, anger toward the game Tapiwa played at my expense.

  Chapter 17

  A Warning

  A dull orange glow peeks through the bottom of the shade with a reddish tinge to it, painting a straight line on the wall near the door. It glows brighter by the second before fizzling out as dark clouds cover the sun’s feeble attempt at lighting up our world, blocking its warmth, and forbidding anyone from looking upon its magnificence. Chase’s steady breathing lulls me back into a half slumber, and I close my eyes, relishing in the sound of the air entering and leaving his lungs, comforted by his presence and glad that he is here, instead of… I stop myself from thinking about it, still incensed at Tapiwa’s cruel trick; though I am not surprised by it. Such is our way, the way of Arel. My head settles on his chest as I listen to the rhythm of his heart, unwilling to move, not wanting this peaceful moment to end, wishing that it would continue forever as I remember my relief upon seeing him alive. The night passed in a minute, or so it seems, and instead of wasting it talking about little nuances in an awkward attempt to pass the time, we laid on my bed with his arm around me and my head on his chest, content to just be together, and no words passed between us, because they will never capture what this simple moment has given us.

  A door closes in the hallway, warning me that I must get up with its harsh thud, but I do not budge as the heavy boots stomp down the hallway, heading for the stairs and hurrying down them. Chase stirs. I know that I must get up. I know that I cannot escape the aftermath of yesterday’s bombing. I know, that I must face whatever today chooses to throw at me, and so, I sit up, refusing to give in to my desires, and place my feet on the bare floor, allowing its touch of chillness to tickle them. I glance at Chase as he opens his eyes, wondering if he had watched me sleep during those long nights in the wilderness when we were forced to depend on one another for survival, wondering what he thought and if he felt any sort of relief at seeing that I still breathed. A bit of hair drops across his forehead as he shifts position, and I brush it away with the tips of my fingers, remembering the night at the mines when I stayed by him after he had taken a beating for me. The memory of it causes my heart to ache as I wonder why he sacrificed so much to save me, and how I have done nothing to earn it.

  Another door shuts, warning me to get dressed, or risk the inevitable consequences of being tardy. Chase sits up just as I step over to the closet to pick out a fresh uniform, cringing when I see the wrinkles in my pants from having slept in them. “You should go,” I say, a melancholy tone in my voice.

  “I don’t want to.”

  I do not want him to either, but if he remains much longer, others may talk, they may whisper about how my liking for him is more than infatuation, and they would be correct, but we cannot just think of ourselves; I have Shelia to consider, and he has Gwen.

  “I have to report for duty, and Gwen must be anxious to see you.”

  Upon hearing Gwen’s name, Chase stands up, knowing that we cannot stay here all day as Arel requires our complete obedience. He heads for the door, but I stop him.

  “Wait. There can be no questions.”

  As though reading my mind, Chase pulls off his shirt, exposing his well-formed pectorals and unzips his pants so that they hang from his waist, threatening to fall off. Still not pleased with his attempt at a disheveled look, I reach for his hair, burying my fingers within their silky strands, and ruffle it, until he looks like a madman. To complete the charade, I pull off my clothes until I am in my undershirt, just in case any prying eyes are watching, and considering Tapiwa’s deception, I know they are.

  Chase’s hand moves to the door, but I stop him. “Promise me, that you will do what you have to, to survive.”

  His gray eyes bury themselves within mine. “Only if you promise to do the same.”

  I smile at him, and the door slides open, allowing him into the hallway, and he ambles to the stairs with his shirt dragging on the floor as he keeps his head bowed low, pretending to feel shame at what we want others to believe he was forced to do. To add credence to the masquerade, I linger in the doorframe, allowing the cold metal of its frame to touch my bottom. The cold stare of another hits me, telling me that my suspicions are correct, as I glance away from the stairs where Chase’s form disappears, and find Anan’s malevolent face glaring at me with disgust. His eyes scan up and down my body, and I scowl back at him, daring him to try something, to give me a reason to shove my knee where it will impede him from fulfilling his duties for the day. With a rude gesture of my own, I turn and go back into my room, allowing the door to shut behind me, glad to be back in my own sanctuary.

  A ray of light spills through the window, landing on the uniforms hanging in my closet before more clouds smother it, snuffing out its existence, and I release a huge sigh, knowing that the time has come for me to face yesterday’s aftermath. I snatch a pair of pants and pull them on, allowing the fabric to hug every curvature of my body, like it was designed to do, and tuck the hem of my undershirt into the waistband. A hollow face captures my attention as strands of black, silky hair escape their bun and wrap around the narrow chin, and I stare back at it, intrigued, but also saddened. Sadness fills the face before me, and several seconds go by before I recognize it as my own. Gone is the wonder I once possessed, replaced with doubt, anger, and a
sullen disposition. Who am I? Am I still Noni, the fresh recruit who desired above all else to be a good arbiter and to protect Arel? But what am I protecting Arel from? I am not naïve enough to believe that the outside world does not wish us harm; of course, some do, but who protects us from a leadership that uses fear and intimidation to keep people in line? Loyalty through fear—that is what Arel is about. So, who am I? What am I?

  My wristband chirps, reminding me of the time, and that I must get going, and after everything that has happened, I do not wish to give my superiors another reason to doubt my commitment to my duties. I rip out the bobby pins that hold the disheveled bun—I had not bothered taking my hair out last night as my joy at seeing Chase alive overruled everything else—and run a brush through my hair, before setting it up in a new bun, in accordance with regulations, and checking the mirror to make sure that not one strand is out of place. Another warning from my wristband propels me out the door as I snatch a fresh jacket from its hangar and shove my arms through the sleeves while hurrying down the hallway and down the stairs, zipping it closed just as I reach the bottom step, making certain to avoid the right corner as it crumbles beneath anyone’s weight—another sign of the desperate state of repairs needed for the manor.

  I rush into the dining room, making certain to grab a tablet that I can use to write the report I have yet to file—there is always a tablet or two sitting in the front room for any arbiter to use, so long as they return it—and take my place by the table, sitting down to eat, and a plebeian places a plate in front of me with eggs, a fruit salad (a mixture of sliced strawberries, apples, and papaya), and mashed garbanzo beans (not the most appetizing, but it is food, and I am famished), and I dig my fork into them, shoving the gritty substance into my mouth, just glad to have something to eat. My first day here, we had to wait for Commander Vye to arrive before we could eat, but not every meal rests upon ceremony, since arbiters work different shifts and, sometimes, she is unable to make it, an increasing habit of hers.