Page 106 of Wings of Destruction

Milkin takes great pleasure in her ability to reduce me to silence with just words.

“You’re trying to scare me.” I hold my ground.

Her hand darts forward and yanks me off my feet, fisting in my nightdress. My feet skip over the last two steps until I land eye level with her, my ankle at an awkward angle.

“You’d be smart to take heed, girl.” Her tone borders on indignant.

If she’s planning on giving me a verbal beatdown before sending me to my doom, then I’m not going to give Milkin the satisfaction of begging for mercy. I won’t plead with her to reconsider because I’ve used up her patience to the last drop.

“I’ll be fine,” I scoff.

I know some people from Fallkirk who were sent to the mines, caught on the wrong side of one of the King’s mercenaries. Maybe I’ll be able to find them, reconnect with them.

Milkin arches a thin brow and hauls me behind her through to the maids’ quarters. Her grip is iron. “At least they’ll know exactly how to handle you there.”

“Handle me?” I throw back, stumbling. “Like I’m an animal?”

A thread of fear twangs loudly beneath the bluster. And I’m sick of staying strong through it.

Milkin stops at the threshold to the main room and lets me go abruptly. I land hard against the wall, glaring at her.

“If you’d acted your part, then I wouldn’t be forced to take these drastic measures,” she replies with a sneer. “This is on your head, missy.”

Her curls are done up on the top of her head and stuffed beneath the cage of a bonnet. She puts me in mind of a mouse woken from sleep, changed by a spell to make her full sized.

“I tried my best with you, Morgan, I truly did. You refuse to fall into line and these are the consequences of your own actions.” She draws up taller. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

I match her expression before she sees me trembling. “Why wait until the end of the week? Send me off right now. Or do you want me to work until I bleed for this place, and then send me packing?”

“If you were a good worker, that might be the case. As it is, the only thing you do well is argue. There’s no place for your attitude here. Everyone toes the line. We work together to make this academy run smoothly. The rules are simple. You can’t even follow them. Now get to bed.”

She’s not used to being disobeyed and for a long moment, we stand there at an impasse. Neither one of us is willing to budge.

The shaking in my limbs finally gives me away. Even though Milkin won’t break eye contact, she’s somehow aware of it, every last tremble down to the way my toes curl in my ruined slippers.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” I say. My voice cracks.

There’s no softening on Milkin’s face. There is nothing to give her away or indicate any latent sympathy for me.

“We all have our place,” she repeats before turning away.

Milkin disappears, not caring what happens to me or what I do. If I snuck back out, right now, would she send someone for me? Would she let me go, not caring whether I lived or died before my departure from DragonSpear?

Deadened legs take me over to my cot, past the rows of other bunks and sleeping maids. I sag onto creaky springs and drop my head in my hands.

“You really did it now, Morgan.” Faye rolls over and regards me from her side, her guileless blue eyes like two glowing orbs in the darkness.

Her mouth pouts its normal pretty pout. She does a poor job of masking her frustration with me. But so far, she’s been the only maid who hasn’t immediately been annoyed.

Quiet, content, she moves through life with a steadfastness of a much older woman.

I ignore her and suck air through my raw nostrils. The fight seeps out of me bit by bit until I’m a hollow empty shell. I walk and I talk like a human. What’s left in me?

Nothing.

I feel Faye staring at me, to the point where I’m forced to shift and meet her gaze.

More than the others, the way she looks at me makes me feel small. Silly for choosing the specific hill I died on.