“Nope. Not happening.”
She grumbles something about me being a "chicken-shit spoilsport," but she’s smiling. It’s a real, genuine smile that makes her look dangerously beautiful.
I don’t have to think of a retort, because a buzzer sounds three times, reminding us exactly where we are. “Come on, Princess. Time to go.” I crook a finger at her.
“What’s happening?”
“New arrivals. Finally. Maybe your friend London will be with them.”
The way she leaps up and excitedly smoothes her wild hair is not something…I like.
I lead Aurora out to the yard, keeping my hand hovering just inches from the small of her back. The whole Digger block, and undoubtedly the whole prison, has been waiting for new fish. We’ve no idea what’s happening on the outside since Hennesey told us of the rebellion. He hasn’t been back to class since dropping the Great Awakening bombshell.
For once, it’s not raining or sleeting. A thin, weak hint of sunshine peeks through the industrial smog, glinting off the pale gold of Aurora’s hair. She raises her face to the light, her skin almost glowing against the rough, oversized gray of her Digger coveralls. Gods, she doesn’t belong in this miserable scrap heap.
The bleachers are already packed, but the top row is always left open for me and my crew. As we take our seats, Layla reaches across Aurora, her fingers snaking toward the smokes in my top pocket with practiced, light-fingered greed. Fucking cheek. Just because we grew up together doesn’t mean my tobacco is communal property.
I’m about to swat her hand away when Aurora suddenly throws her arms around Layla’s neck.
“What the fuck, Barbie?” Layla stiffens then recoils, her hands coming up as if she’s about to throw a punch. “What are you doing?”
Aurora’s face turns a shade of beet-red. “Uh… sorry. I thought you were going in for a hug.”
Clay and Imran burst out laughing. I can’t stop the crooked smile spreading across my face.
“Yeah, no, Princess,” I drawl, leaning back against the rusted iron rail. “We ain’t exactly the hugging types. Lay was just trying to rob me blind.”
Imran’s giggle turns into a rattling cough that he tries to stifle behind a hand.
“Yeah, yeah, very funny,” Aurora grumbles, self-consciously brushing a long, matted strand of gold away from her face. “I was just trying to be polite, not like Iwantedto snuggle with Layla, or whatever. Fuck off.”
“Aww, is Barbie embarrassed?" Lay starts to tease, but her words get drowned out by a wave of animalistic shouting that erupts from the lower bleachers.
I feel Aurora tense beside me. Without thinking, I close the distance, my shoulder brushing against hers. She leans into the contact for a heartbeat, and for a moment it’s impossible for me to focus on anything but the scent of her skin.
I pull back just as the heavy iron intake doors groan open.
“Fresh fish,” Clay mutters, his humor vanishing into a grim, sharp focus.
Two new arrivals are pushed out. They look at the top age range for Quo. Twenty-one. One arrival looks ready to throw down, but before any blood starts flying, I want a news report.
Dimitry and I stand at the same time. “Stay with Layla and Imran,” I tell Aurora before I jog down the bleachers, Clay at my side.
“Good morning, Dimitry,” I say, arriving in the center of the yard.
“Dobroye utro, Taliesin.”
When the King and Bossman talk, it is always with a painful politeness. We also don’t call each other by our honorifics—we’re on a civilized first name basis.
My manners do not extend to Thad, Gleb and Heinz though. Fuck those assholes.
I gesture for Dimitry to go ahead, and take a small step back as he addresses the new fish. “Comrades, your first duty today is to share with us information from Havengard. A detailed statement will earn you our gratitude.”
One of the men has dark blonde hair and the air of privilege. “And a place in The Guild?” he asks, ignoring me.
“Perhaps. What’s your name?” Dimitry demands.
“Richard Duke,” the new guy replies, lifting his chin, as though we should all recognize the name.
