Cynthia pushed me, and I realized I had stopped walking. I was now about two paces away from the boy in front of me, and I scrambled forward before anyone would notice. I pulledanxiously again at the red thread of my dress as I took the first step that would lead me to the stage, to my fate.
A strange wind blasted through the square, stirring the otherwise still air that had settled around us a moment ago. The sudden wind blew strands of my chestnut hair into my face, and I nearly tripped as I took another step upward towards the stage. My hair obscured my vision, and I fought with the tangled strands until I could see properly again.
I turned to Cynthia, giving her an apologetic glance, but she stared past me. Her face paled, and fear entered her gaze as her pupils blew wide. My body stiffened and my heart pounded against my ribcage. Why did she look so afraid? I swallowed thickly, and just as I began to turn, a gruff voice, unnervingly close, boomed from behind me.
“Bastards are supposed to be reported at birth.”
I flinched as the king’s angry voice washed over me.Bastard? Who was he—?
A meaty hand wrapped around my upper arm, and panic overtook me as I sucked in a breath. Cynthia held my gaze as I was pulled backward and dragged onto the stage. The king's fingers bit into my flesh so hard that I nearly whimpered from the pain. He spun me around, and I was ensnared in the queen's yellow gaze, her nostrils flaring as she narrowed her eyes on me.
“You, girl. Who is your mother?” the queen spat, her voice raw and commanding.
“My-my-mother? You-your-Maj-je-jesty?”
“Point her out. Now,” she barked, stepping closer to me on the stage.
My eyes instinctively shot to my mother. She stood frozen in the crowd, her golden blonde hair braided behind her, herlarge blue eyes full of what looked like tears. Her hands were fisted in her worn yellow dress, and I didn’t understand what was happening. I looked back to the queen, who glared in her direction, and watched her nod to someone I couldn’t see.
Her attention swung back to me, and I flinched at her intensity.
“Come here, girl.”
The king finally let go of my arm, practically shoving me in her direction. A pulsing static coursed through my limbs, and my body went numb. The queen looked at me as if offended and she scowled down at me.
“Pathetic,” she murmured, and her words somehow grounded me, pulling me out of whatever panic I was in. I rolled my shoulders and lifted my chin. It was still trembling, but I forced myself to hold her gaze as I thrust my palm toward her.
She eyed me for a moment, assessing before snatching my hand into hers and pulling me even closer. The queen smiled cruelly as she lifted the dagger, her eyes blazing with what looked like hunger and madness. The cool tip touched my skin and for what felt like minutes she dragged it across my flesh. The cut stung as blood pooled in my palm, and I held my breath.
The queen’s face transformed from one of disgust to one of surprise. Her lips parted and her gaze shot to the king. He rolled his shoulders slightly, a small smile now on his lips.
The queen looked to me and back to the king, and then I was moving. She shoved me toward him, but he didn’t even try to catch me as I slammed onto the wood at his feet. I threw my hands out to catch myself and cried out in pain as the cut on my hand slid against the wood.
“Take her and go,” I heard the queen order, and a second later I was being lifted off the ground and slung over a shoulder.
What? No. What was happening?Had I been selected or not? No, no, no, what did my mother do?!
I struggled against the king's hold, trying to see where he was taking me. Whyhewas carrying me and where?
My hair kept obscuring my vision, but I could hear the sounds of his massive black boots scuffing against the wood as he left the stage. I was swung off his shoulder, but he held me tightly in his grip as a sickening feeling wrenched through me. It was as if something at my center had folded in on itself, and I was being swallowed, sucked into myself.
A moment later my vision returned, but a sharp feeling of nausea crashed over me, and I doubled over and vomited on what looked like the king's boots.
A muffled curse rang out and then a louder command.
“Get the carriage ready.”
My stomach turned again as I realized I was now next to the royal carriage on the other side of the square. I forced myself back up and frantically searched the crowd for my mother. My gaze washed over curious, pitying faces until I met the eyes of an elderly woman. Her face was all wrinkles, but she pointed to the back of the crowd.
A sob left my lips as I spotted my mother being dragged through the square by her hair. A guard laughed while my mother kicked and screamed, fighting to get free, but there were other guards surrounding them, following. They were using some sort of magic on her to keep her down.
Why was no one doing anything? Why was no one helping her?!
“Mother!” I screamed, but I only made it a few paces before arms were around me, pulling me back toward the carriage. The air suddenly left my lungs, and my mother's body disappeared into an alleyway.
I sobbed harder, fighting to break free, to save her. But it was useless; my vision started to darken, and I swung my gaze back to the stage, searching for my friend.
The queen was already back testing the other children, as if nothing had happened.
