Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series

by Laurie D'Ghent

  After listening to herself breathe until she thought she'd go mad, the silence was broken by one of the guards, the younger one. He had murmured something. As she turned to look at him, he dropped his left arm back to his side. “Is there anything you require, miss?” He sounded like he was genuinely eager to assist, but she hesitated. “Anything at all,” he prodded.

  Surreptitiously wiping her damp palm on the leg of her jeans, she said, “I would like something to eat. I haven't had anything since breakfast.”

  Though he obviously tried to mask his surprise, Integrity noticed that he seemed shocked by her request. Why? I was with them all day. They didn't feed me. Of course I'm hungry. Frustrated that she felt as though she'd committed a faux pas, Integrity called the guard a few choice names in her head.

  While his partner collected himself, Bowman asked, “What would you prefer, miss? We'll have something brought directly.”

  Feeling flustered, Integrity shrugged grouchily. “Whatever. I don't care.”

  Bowman paused, as though he wanted to say something more, but instead raised his left arm to his mouth and murmured something into it. Ah, they have radios. Another challenge. After a short pause, Bowman said something else inaudible before clasping his hands loosely in front of him and looking away from Integrity's gaze.

  Integrity noticed a small, black book sitting on the table near her elbow. She picked it up for lack of anything else to do. It was hard bound and appeared to have never been read. She turned it over to find the title, but both sides were blank. The binding announced in gold lettering “Creed of the Elite” followed in smaller letters by “P. Ketterman.” Integrity opened the book to the flyleaf, the binding cracking quietly, but it offered no additional information. As she turned to the introduction, a quiet rap sounded at the door. Her head snapped around, straining the muscles in her neck; she had not realized she was so tense. The younger guard placed his finger against his ear, listened for a moment, then nodded to his partner and opened the door. Galia entered carrying a silver tray with a cover. Integrity snapped the book shut and stood hurriedly. “Galia!” she exclaimed, moving toward the familiar face.

  Surprised pleasure lit up Galia's face and she gracefully set the tray down on the nearby bed and met Integrity in the middle of the floor. “Integrity!” The two hugged, then pulled away and smiled at one another. “What are you doing here? I--” Galia caught herself and stopped talking. Straightening up, she picked up the serving tray once more and carried it to the low coffee table and set it down slowly. “Here is your food, miss. I hope you will find it appealing.” Pulling a metal goblet off of the tray, Galia straightened and looked at Integrity once more. She queried, “Is there anything else you require?”

  Confused by Galia's sudden change in demeanor, Integrity struggled to get control of her feelings. “I don't have clothes, toothpaste . . .” Integrity trailed off, waving her hand vaguely in the air.

  “Certainly, miss. I will bring you the necessities immediately.” Dropping a curtsy, Galia turned and floated from the room. Integrity sank into a nearby chair, overwhelmed. What is going on? And why did she take my drink?

  Integrity sank into a nearby chair, perplexed. Unfocused, she lifted the lid of the tray to find a plate to food artfully arranged. Her attention focused clearly on the plate. I like everything on here. That's strange; I'm such a picky eater that there's always something I don't like. They didn't even put dressing on the salad! Picking up the bowl of soup, suddenly aware of her empty stomach, she began eating, trying desperately not to slurp in front of the two men.

  Shortly after she finished her meal, Galia returned, her arms full of clothing on hangers. She carefully placed them on the bed, then began efficiently hanging them in the closet. Integrity frowned slightly; most of the clothes were floor-length dresses. While they were intricately beautiful, prom quality, even, Integrity hated dressing up and did so only when necessary, for church or funerals. Guess I can't have everything.

  Even when she walked over and helped to hang the clothing, Galia remained silent. Integrity felt too awkward to try to make small talk, so when Galia offered her a package wrapped in spotlessly white paper and tied with a faintly pink ribbon, she said a simple thank you.

  “Is there anything else you require, miss?”

  You will not cry, Integrity chastised herself. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Galia curtsied again, collected the tray silently, the dishes all empty, and left the room.

  Integrity paced the room restlessly, gazing out of the window occasionally. I could deal with the boredom, I've done it before, but I feel like an animal in the zoo with those two watching my every move. I could go in the bathroom and get out of their view, but then they'll think I'm actually using the bathroom. That's not any better.

  Time passed, how much Integrity did not know. Occasionally one or the other of the guards would talk into the microphones hidden in their sleeves. At one point someone came to the door, but the younger of the two guards exited before Integrity could catch a glimpse of the visitor. The guard returned and things continued in the same strain with no variation.

  Integrity felt as though she were three-quarters asleep, a necessary state of mind learned while in the jail cell, when the door opened again. She immediately snapped to attention, a brief pain pulsing through her skull, to see two more men enter the room. In an instant she recognized one man as the one that had helped to recapture her, the one that had sat on the back seat of the SUV with her. The other man she did not recognize, but she felt an instant connection to him—the look of terror in his eyes was achingly familiar to her.

  The man from the car held the second man by his upper arm. The prisoner, she didn't know what else to call him, looked around frantically. “What's going on? I don't understand,” he said, only to be cut off by a swift punch about halfway down his back, off to one side. His inhaled sharply and fell silent.

  Integrity refocused her attention on the other men, her mind automatically cataloging information. All three of the Westmarch men were watching her intently, tense and ready to spring. What's going on? I don't know this guy. Do they think I do? At least 30 seconds passed in silence, except for the prisoner's labored breathing. The tension grew with each passing second, pressing on the girl's chest, making each breath a challenge. The man holding the prisoner frowned impatiently and reached swiftly into a pocket, extracting something that glinted in the light. Integrity stepped forward automatically, raised her hand to stop him, but it was too late. The pocket knife pierced the prisoner's arm, blood flowing swiftly from the gash. The man yelped. Integrity's gaze snapped to that of the perpetrator's; he stared intently back, but made no movement. Enraged, she spat out, “What is wrong with you? Why did you do that?” Returning her gaze to the injured man's arm, she saw that, while the wound wasn't a scratch, it wasn't likely to endanger the man's life. Not knowing what else to do, feeling frustratingly helpless, she walked to the closet and ripped an item of clothing from its hanger, not caring what she had grabbed. As she moved toward the group of men, the two guards stepped forward, obviously ready to stop her. She hesitated, but when they made no further move, she slowly stepped closer and raised the material to the injured man's bicep. “Hold this here. Press hard,” she instructed gently, her heart thundering in her ears. She could see beads of sweat covering the man's forehead. He appeared to be trembling, whether from fear or pain she couldn't tell. Instinctively the man followed her instructions and clenched the dress to his wound.

  Now what? Integrity didn't know what to do. Should she stay where she was? Should she move away? Were the men going to kill them both now? Why aren't they doing anything?

  The man holding the arm of the prisoner stared intently into her eyes, seeming to try to read her mind. Integrity stared back, noticing vaguely that his eyes were such a deep brown they appeared to be almost black. Unexpectedly the man grunted, spun, and dragged the man from the room. The elder of the guards followed him out, closing t
he door quietly behind them.

  “Please step away from the door.” The order was spoken firmly, fearlessly, by the younger of the two guards. What was his name? Paul? Integrity backed away from the door, unsettled that the guard was so assured of his ability to make her comply. Does he have a weapon? Probably. The other guy had a knife, after all.

  After a few minutes, Bowman, the older guard, returned and gestured for Paul to leave the room with him. The door shut behind them and, no matter how long Integrity waited, neither reentered the room. She was alone.

  Đ

  Integrity must have fallen asleep because she woke up when Galia gently touched her arm. “I've brought more food. I didn't want it to get cold,” she apologized.

  Rubbing the blurriness from her eyes, Integrity sat up straighter in the armchair. “Thank you,” she murmured automatically. When Galia stood silently, Integrity gestured toward the other chair. 'Wanna sit down?”

  Galia smiled before sitting in the chair. “I want to apologize for the way I behaved earlier. I fear I offended you.”

  Integrity shrugged like she didn't really care. “Really? I didn't even notice.” Galia gave her a slightly disappointed look, and Integrity said, “Okay, so I did. I thought you were mad at me.”

  Galia laughed lightly, covering her mouth demurely with one hand. “No, I was not angry with you.” Galia glanced toward the closed door. “The way we act together, how I speak to you, is not seemly.”

  “What? Why not?” Integrity was confused. It's not like Galia was prone to swearing or telling ribald jokes.

  “Our,” Galia dropped her gaze briefly, “stations. We are not of the same caste and I should not act as though we are. I should not even be sitting now.” Galia looked hesitantly at Integrity, prepared to stand at the least sign.

  It was Integrity's turn to laugh. “You think I'm better than you? Please. Who could possibly be lower than a prisoner?”

  “A slave, for one.” A small smile softened Galia's words. “It does not bother you that I am so improper in my behavior toward you?”

  “I'm sure. You're the only person in this place I can talk to. The last thing I want is you bowing and scraping to me.” Galia seemed pleased, but faintly surprised. Integrity pressed on eagerly. “So what's going on with Ben? What have you heard? Is he okay?”

  Galia hesitated, obviously choosing her words carefully. “Ben is,” she paused, “in custody.”

  “He's in jail?” Integrity leaned toward Galia, her mind focused intently. “Why? Why is he in jail when I'm here?” She gestured vaguely at the room.

  Again, Galia chose her words carefully. “Yes, Ben is in the prison below the castle.” She paused, debating whether to go on. Integrity gestured impatiently for her to continue. “The reason he is there and you are not is that Ben did not have permission to remove you from Westmarch.”

  Integrity shook her head in confusion. “Of course he didn't have permission. We were running away! That still doesn't explain why he's being punished when I'm not.”

  “You are a separate person from the son of Dagnus. You cannot be treated identically.”

  Unsatisfied with the answers she was getting, Integrity pressed on to a different topic. “Am I free to go, or am I a prisoner, too?”

  “The guards are still outside of your room and will remain there constantly. The council does not wish you to leave, nor will they allow you to.”

  Integrity slumped back in her chair. “So basically even though I'm not in a prison cell, I'm still an inmate.” Galia nodded once. “That's just peachy.” Realizing how harsh her voice sounded, Integrity gave Galia a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so grumpy. At least I have you. I could be a lot worse off.”

  Galia smiled softly. “No apology necessary. I know how you feel.” She reached forward and touched the back of Integrity's hand. They both jerked back instinctively.

  “You're freezing!” Integrity exclaimed.

  “And you're not,” Galia responded, matter-of-fact. “Forgive me. I had forgotten.”

  “Forgotten what? That you're cold?” Galia smiled vaguely. “So, anyway, what is a prisoner allowed? Do I just have to sit here and be bored all the time?”

  “I could bring you some books, if you like. The castle has quite an extensive library.”

  Integrity picked up the book from the coffee table. Galia tensed and leaned forward. “I do have this one, but it shouldn't take long to read.”

  Careful to not touch Integrity, Galia gently pulled the book from her grasp. After studying the binding, Galia set the book in her lap and said, “Oh, you wouldn't be interested in this. I'm afraid it's very dry. How would you like some Dickens?”

  “I've never read him before, but it's worth a shot. I'd appreciate it.” An unsettled feeling fluttered at the back of Integrity's mind, but she forced herself to shove it away.

  “Excellent.” Galia stood fluidly and moved to the door, turning for a brief smile before exiting. Integrity caught a clear glimpse of the guards stationed outside, the two same men that had been with her from the beginning. Don't they ever get a break? Abruptly, Integrity smacked herself on the forehead. Idiot! Why didn't you ask Galia about them bringing in that man and stabbing him in the arm? She sighed in frustration, knowing that sleep would be a long time in coming.

  Đ

  The man was obviously frustrated. He paced back and forth restlessly, seeming violent in his sharp movements. Stopping near a side table, he grasped a glass paperweight. He stared at the strange design for a moment, anger sweeping over his face more and more with each passing second. With a sound more akin to a growl than anything else, he turned with lightning speed and hurled the item against the far wall, at least fifteen feet away, where it shattered. He stared, unseeing, at the spot where the glass had collided with the wall. His features mechanically shifted back to his normal appearance of bored calm. Tucking his button-up shirt back into his immaculate black trousers, he exited the room, swinging the door shut behind him. No one was near enough to have heard anything; he'd made sure of that.

  Chapter Five

  Integrity's days quickly fell into a pattern. She grew more used to wearing dresses most of the time, though she still didn't like it (it was much too hard to sit all scrunched up while still being modest). She was grateful that the guards weren't around to see her biff it when she'd try to, say, step up on a chair, having forgotten she was wearing a skirt. She'd fallen more times than she cared to think about.

  Galia came regularly three times a day with meals and to take Integrity's dirty linen away. She could never stay for long, having many duties to accomplish, but her visits helped to break the day up.

  It had been several days, Integrity couldn't say how many for sure, before she was awoken by someone clearing their throat loudly. Sitting up in bed, struggling to focus her vision, Integrity recognized her two guards standing in her room once more. They had not entered again since the man had been stabbed.

  Although her pulse increased slightly from the shock of someone being in her room, Integrity felt strangely calm. Pushing her hair out of her face, she asked, “What?” Realizing how rude she sounded, she amended, “What's up?”

  Bowman, the older guard, stated, “Your presence is requested. Please make yourself ready.”

  “Ready? Ready for what?”

  Bowman's expression remained blank. “Unless you prefer to be seen in your nightclothes, I would suggest that you change.”

  Confused, Integrity slid from bed and staggered to the closet in the dim light from the entryway. Grabbing the first thing she touched, she shuffled into the bathroom and shut the door, squinting when she snapped on the bright light.

  After wrestling with her hair for a moment, she sighed and pulled it back, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. At least I look like I care, even if I still look like crap. She slipped into the dress she had, then paused, stymied. She hadn't worn shoes as yet, not needing to. Praying that there were some in the closet, she ex
ited the bathroom and walked back to the closet. There were several soft shoes made of some shiny material with flexible soles. She grabbed a pair that she hoped didn't clash with her dress and hurried back out, feeling pressured to hurry since the men were waiting on her.

  Bowman muttered something into his microphone, listened for a response, then took Integrity firmly by her upper arm. “Please stay close and remain silent.” The younger guard opened the door, and they walked quickly down the hallway. In a short time they arrived at their destination, something like a small theater.

  Integrity was escorted to the center of the room, under several spotlights. It was difficult to see the stadium seating surrounding her on all sides, the bright lights reflecting at uncomfortable angles, but she discerned that only a very few people were scattered around her. A man's voice spoke from her left and she snapped her head around, seeking the source of the sound. The figure was a vague black outline, still as granite. He said a single word, “Begin.”

  Unsure what was expected of her, Integrity glanced over her shoulder. Directly behind her, a woman had materialized. Integrity turned to face her, her stomach clenching; the woman's expression made it explicitly clear that she meant Integrity harm.

  The woman, dressed head-to-toe in black leather, crouched slightly and shifted easily from one foot to the other, eager for action. Integrity felt her throat constrict. What is going on?!? Without warning, the woman sprang across the distance separating them and knocked Integrity solidly to the ground, whether with hand or foot the girl did not see.

  Pain washed over her, making bile rise in her throat. Even Glegnar's beatings had never felt like this. The sheer force behind the attack was enough to stagger the mind. She's playing for keeps. She's trying to kill me!

  Integrity glanced around her, struggling to her feet, striving to locate her opponent. The woman was some distance away from Integrity, a smirk of pure disdain on her lovely face. “Are you going to fight back, little bird? Or do you plan to cower in the corner like the puppy you are?' Her voice made Integrity picture melted chocolate running smoothly over metal—alluring, but dark. Desperate to defend herself, no matter how pathetically, Integrity raised her hands before her, fists clenched painfully. Her opponent laughed mockingly, striding toward her sinuously. “I'll even give you a free shot, little bird. Hit me with all you've got. I doubt you'll leave a mark.”