I shuffled after him and took the empty chair on his left. I hated that my back was exposed to the room, especially now that it was freshly injured and vulnerable. Longingly, I stared at my usual antisocial seat at the less crowded corner table. The tier fives near us gawked, clearly confused to see me sitting at their table, and with another person no less.
And then Bren spoke, his voice so loud the entire table fell silent and stared. “Hi, everyone. I’m Bren.”
I wanted to wedge my body into one of the cracks in the floor.
“Mind explaining this, Mute?”
That’s what I got for being anti-social. My very own nickname.
I looked at the mousy-haired man sitting across from me, giving him my best bored-to-tears face. “One of these days, Lars, my knife might accidentally fly out of my hand and slice off your tongue. It’ll be interesting to hear what you have to say then.”
Bren guffawed and all eyes returned to him. At least someone appreciated my joke. “I never know when you’re joking, Lune. It’s hilarious. Hey, everyone, what do you call a man without a tongue?” He shook his head, not expecting an answer, apparently. “Genius.”
“You’ll have to give Bren some slack here. He doesn’t know all the rules yet. In fact, he just arrived from the outside and will begin training tomorrow.” And that’s all I planned on telling them. I picked up my fork and stabbed a large piece of broccoli, shoving the whole thing in my mouth. I made a show of chewing noisily, sneaking a glance at Bren as I did so. Opening my still-full mouth, I said, “Try some. It’s super fresh, crunchy, and oh-so-green.”
His lips twitched.
Lars leaned on an elbow, his lithe body inching closer to mine. “You’re gonna need to help me out here. Why are you hanging out with him? You don’t hang out with anyone.”
I stopped chewing.
“She’s my trainer,” Bren oh-so-helpfully supplied.
Several incredulous voices rose at once, asking questions, demanding answers. My sweaty palm tightened its grip on my fork. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it for purposes other than stabbing my food. My throat constricted as I breathed in the stench of envy, jealousy, and fear.
Unease slid down my spine.
“Was this your daddy’s idea, Princess?”
The noise dimmed as that one question drowned out the others. I could hear my rapid breathing and worked on slowing it. Mention of Renold’s preferential treatment never failed to set me on edge. Even as my breathing slowed, my grip on the fork increased until my fist shook under the pressure.
Bren’s hand inched toward mine, probably intent on freeing the unfortunate utensil, but I dragged my hands into my lap, out of sight.
“That’s none of your concern, Catanna.” I leveled a stare at the impertinent girl. Holding eye contact with a she-devil was not an easy task. Her graceful limbs and soft brown skin were deceiving. Even her wide sable eyes, fringed in sooty lashes, suggested innocence. Kindness. But I knew better. She was a snake disguised as an enchantress.
I waited for her venomous teeth to strike.
“Oh, but I think this affects us all, wouldn’t you agree, fives? If she can earn a trainer status before winning a Trial, shouldn’t the rest of us be able to have titles? She’s breaking the order of things.” Catanna looked around the table, seeking support. And, as usual, she got it. Several trainees nodded and flicked hostile glances my way. She turned back to me, a dark and victorious gleam shining in those depthless eyes.
I felt caged. Trapped. The walls bent inward, boxing me in. My face numbed and I couldn’t speak.
Underneath the table, fingers brushed my knuckles and I jerked, wrenching my hand out of reach. The touch must have come from Bren, that boundary-defying idiot. I had almost stabbed him with my fork.
Exhaling, I raised my voice to the restless crowd. “Once upon a time, a man dared question the Supreme Elite’s decision. The next day he disappeared, never heard from again. The end.” I focused on each of their stunned faces. “Any questions?”
Silence.
“I didn’t think so.”
Relief bathed my body when the invasive stares looked everywhere but at me. Just the way I liked it. Chatter ebbed and flowed once again, and I dug my fork into whatever was on my plate. It could have been radishes for all I cared. The meal had lost its taste. If it weren’t for the small matter of keeping up my strength, I would be up and out of this room in a flash.
“Sooo, Bren,” Lars droned, setting his sights on the fresh meat. “From where on the outside do you hail?”
“Mostly the mountains. Avoiding the beasts of the land.” He caught my eye as he bit into a broccoli stem and grimaced. I rolled my eyes. What a big baby.
Lars nodded, as if he understood the plight of the outsiders. “I hear it’s bad out there. That food is scarce, people try to rob you blind, safe shelter is hard to find, and that the animals try to eat you in your sleep.” He chortled like he found the image funny. “Good thing the Supreme Elite let you in. You must be special or something.”
Or just a practiced liar, I wanted to add. I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Guess I’m just lucky,” Bren replied. I snorted, earning a scowl from the nosy man across from me.
“Well you’re much better off in here. With the right allies, your future could be bright.” His greasy stare slid to me. “Choose wisely who you align with.”
Bren eyed him up and down. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With a parting sneer thrown my way, Lars picked up his tray and left the table. Catanna and several others did the same.
Bren swallowed. “You’re right. People really do avoid you.”
If he wasn’t so right, I would have punched his arm for that comment. My fist itched to make contact anyway, so I sat on it. “They don’t know what to make of me because I don’t think like they do. And I avoid them because I know all too well who they are.”
Chew on that, pretty boy.
His movements stilled as he studied my face. “And the plot thickens. Who is Lune Tatum and how does she think?”
At his inquisitive look, my skin buzzed like a live wire. I jumped out of my seat, scrambling to collect my tray without dropping it on the floor and drawing even more attention to myself. I couldn’t handle any more probing eyes on me. Before depositing the tray at the washroom window, I grabbed the apple from my plate. No way was it going to waste.
“You all right?”
“Holy stars, stop-sneaking-up-on-me!” I whirled, almost colliding with his chest. How could someone so big be so quiet? It was unnerving.
“I have no idea what you just said but I think I get the gist.” Bren grinned, but it fell when he saw my face. I didn’t know what he was seeing, but I knew what I was seeing. Or thought I saw. Honest-to-goodness concern.
It was all too much. This day had been too much. I could feel myself unraveling, and soon I would lose control. Slowly, I breathed in through my nose, gathered my frayed emotions, and locked them away.
“Let’s go. It’s been a long day. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.” I climbed to the third floor, someplace I’d never been before. Males of various age, anywhere from ten to thirty, a few even older than that, roamed the hallway. Some were in a shocking state of undress as they traveled from the public bathroom to their bunks or dorm rooms. A blush crept up my neck.
Awkward.
Stopping at an unclaimed bed, I turned to Bren. “Tiers one through four all bunk out here. Only tier fives have private dorms. Training gear is in the bathroom, and you’ll want to wear riding leathers in the morning. Rasa Rowe training is first. Meet me outside the barracks at the second bell . . .” I trailed off, wondering what else I was supposed to say.
And then I knew. A devilish smile took over my lips and I leaned toward him, a boldness creeping over me that I wasn’t used to. “Oh, and by the way,” I whispered. “I have contracts with all three Trials, too.”
His eyes rounded as his jaw dropped. The strange boldness tingli
ng through my limbs allowed me to place a finger beneath his stubbly chin. The blunt hairs shifted, giving way to skin.
“Surprise.” I winked at him.
My finger worked on closing his mouth. It shut with a faint click.
The crickets were loud tonight, like a discordant stringed orchestra.
I melded with the shadows, thankful that clouds smudged the moon from the sky and obscured my movements. My black pants and hooded shirt further hid my presence as I shifted the precious cargo, careful not to let it bump against my sore back. On nights like this, I found purpose in a world that didn’t have one. Even as my heart raced at the thought of being discovered out past curfew with pilfered goods, I beamed. This was my “screw you” to the power-hungry elite class who took and took and never gave.
Tonight, I would contribute to a struggling society. The weight of my treachery dangled over my right shoulder and down my arm instead of my back. The awkward bundle was a reassurance that I would make a difference. Not much of one, but better than standing idle and watching the city’s backbone snap. The village people couldn’t escape their fate, unlike my possibility. They needed all the help they could get. A madman lorded over them with an iron fist, stealing their toil and labor for himself and his posse, leaving only scraps behind.
But I had access to a solution. And so, I made this trip as often as I dared, trying to right a small portion of the many wrongs.
Antler Hill Village, the largest and poorest settlement in Tatum City, rose like a phantom in the mist. Most of the population worked and resided here, numbering around six thousand men, women, and children. Asher was born in this village. How he had befriended me, the Supreme Elite’s daughter, was beyond my understanding.
It had just . . . happened.
The Trials had brought us together. In fact, the annual Elite Trials were the only reason villagers and elites ever intermingled. It was the great equalizer. Anyone could contend in the Trials, and many did, for the sole purpose of bettering their future. The only way to receive a secure job, or attain more food and accommodations, was through a Trial win. The elites sometimes contended just to improve their ranking; or they became patrons, further solidifying their position—if their contenders won.
The worst part was the children. Many, as early as ten years old, were forced by their parents or guardians into contracts. If they were unable to better their family’s lives by the contending age of eighteen, it was still one less body for their home to feed and clothe. At least I had willingly signed. So many joined, yet so few returned.
They should be called the Death Trials.
No one currently living in this village had won a Trial. Once you did, you and your family were moved to better accommodations in the smaller Loyalty Village nearby. Renold had named it, of course. Guards, trainers, and doctors, each having won a single Trial, lived there with their families. Some of the advisers did, too, but I was convinced their titles were mainly for appearance. Renold did what he pleased and expected everyone to fall in line—or face the consequences.
He didn’t dole out punishment with his own hands. No, that special treatment was reserved for me. And, even then, he always used an object to inflict the pain. It was the guards who kept the villagers working, and the trainers who kept the trainees practicing from dawn until dusk.
Three years ago, a small group of villagers refused to work for a day. The next morning, the leaders of the group disappeared. As for the rest, they were stripped of their jobs and homes. The risk of helping the outcasts was too great; many were imprisoned for stealing or died of starvation.
We were an overworked, mind-numbed society with no way out. Up until now, anyway. I was fighting for myself, but I also wanted to send a message. There was another way. A chance to win freedom. To me, the risk was worth taking.
I didn’t think I could survive living in this oppressed city for another year, let alone a lifetime.
In Antler Hill, there weren’t enough houses for everyone. Many families double-housed, and even more packed themselves into the old white hotel atop the hill overlooking the village. The interior stank of mildewed carpet, but it contained running water, and that was the most important thing.
Even at midnight, the red clay roofs of the village’s pale plaster houses shone dully. The buildings reminded me of a fairytale my mum had described once, one where a girl longed for adventure, and wished to escape the small town where nothing new ever happened. So, she did . . . and found herself face to face with a beast.
There were too many parallels between the heroine’s story and mine. But the beasts in my story couldn’t be tamed, and no enchanted flower could keep them at bay. It was me or them.
I waited behind a tree for the night watchmen to appear. They were lazy, the villagers too exhausted from a long day’s work to cause problems. Their sloppiness was my ticket inside. Sure enough, a guard in royal blue sauntered past, his volt gun clinking against his belt. He didn’t even look my way. I shook my head. At one point in time, the buffoon had won a Trial segment, probably Faust Night. The Elite Trainer would rip him a new one if he saw how his trainee was making use of his rigorous training regimen.
When I could no longer hear his boots scuffing the dirt-packed road, I slinked up the hill and wove my way between buildings, keeping to the darkest shadows. I brushed up against a small, one-story house, the plaster rough against my fingertips, and pressed my ear to the chipped green paint of the dwelling’s only door. All was silent. With one knuckle, I knocked. One. One, two, three. Pause. The shuffling of feet, then . . .
“Code word?”
“Rumpelstiltskin.”
A soft groan. “Lune, you do this every time.”
I lowered my voice an octave. “How can you be sure that it’s me?”
“Because we’ve been doing this for six years, that’s why.”
“Then let me in, doofus.”
Asher snickered, cracking the door open just enough for me and my bundle to slip inside. When the door clicked shut, I faced him, a shot of nerves zipping through my limbs. I’d rather be chased by a guard than deal with the damage I had done to our friendship, but when he met my eyes and I saw the lingering confusion there, my mouth opened.
“Listen, Ash, about earlier . . .” My chest hurt. I wasn’t used to this level of vulnerability. Eleven years of conditioning kept the words trapped inside. They were poison on my tongue.
But I knew that Asher deserved more.
I spit out the foreign string of words, each one burning as it left my mouth. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you. I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
Naked.
I felt naked.
It was as if he knew how hard it had been to speak that apology into the void. The confusion melted away, replaced with his usual empathy.
“No matter what you do, I will always forgive you.” My heart squeezed, and I cherished the words. Yet I was afraid of the power they gave me. “But I couldn’t help noticing,” he continued, his eyes searching mine, “that you looked scared. Is it . . . is it the new guy? Bren? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
At his stormy expression, I shook my head. “No! No, he didn’t hurt me. It’s just . . . I didn’t know what he would think of you and me—I mean, we’re not supposed to be friends, you know that.” Ugh, I was so bad at this. “What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I ended up hurting you anyway.”
I needed a muzzle.
He smiled, amused. “So, you want to be my friend, but more like a secret friend, right?”
“Yes. No! This is all messed up.” I groaned. A tiny cough came from the dark depths of the house and I clamped a hand over my mouth. Asher and I stared at each other in silence, listening to the gentle creaks and sighs of a slumbering household. On silent feet, I crept to his worn dining table and laid my burden on its surface. “There were more leftovers than usual this evening. This should make several meals worth. How is Selah’s cough?”
“Not any better, unfortunately. But not any worse.” Asher rifled through the bag, pulling out several apples, carrots, and potatoes. His eyes brightened in the dim candlelight and I felt my own well up with tears. Ever since his father passed, the Donovan family struggled to fill their stomachs. Ash’s three siblings were too young to acquire jobs, and his mother was often sequestered to her bed, weakened from ailments. They couldn’t afford medical treatment, not with Asher’s menial job as a stable hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was all I could think to say.
He glanced at me. “Thank you, Lune. And my family thanks their elusive ‘guardian angel’ as well.”
My throat closed. The more I did this—the more I helped—the harder it would be to leave all the people behind.
“Two villagers went missing today,” he continued, even quieter. He knew how dangerous it was talking about the disappearances.
“Did you find out their crimes?” At his head shake, I added, “I’ll figure it out. Just . . . keep your head down, okay? You can’t be the next to go missing. I wouldn’t . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence out loud. I would never forgive myself if he disappeared because of my decision to so blatantly break the rules. This should be my burden, not his. No one needed me. If I vanished, no one would suffer for it.
Before I left this city, I was determined to discover what happened to those who disappeared.
“LuLu, where are you?”
I couldn’t see her. She was just out of sight, around the trail’s bend. My mouth opened to reassure her, but no sound came. My bare feet left the ground in their attempt to reach her, but I was running in place. Stuck. Trapped. Helpless.
“Lune?” The voice was farther away now, barely a whisper.
“No, don’t leave me! Mum!”
I gasped, eyes popping open as I bolted upright.
My pulse evened when I saw the chair still jammed underneath my dorm’s doorknob. Thank the stars, I was still in bed. The reoccurring nightmare didn’t usually wake me up. No, something else had woken me. Judging by the shadows and silence, it was a good two hours before dawn. Ugh.
Reactive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 1) Page 7