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Each of the kingdoms had its own specialty—farming, livestock, textiles, science and medicine, and protection—each sustaining and relying on the other. Without one, our world would fail. Transportation of these goods between kingdoms relied on communication via the runners, where we assisted the military in coordinating efforts once a month to pass goods between kingdoms.
"Not quite. I'm expecting news from the commander who oversees a few…special operations for me," she said. "When you arrive, you will receive this information and you will not ask questions or inquire for details. You will rest for one full sleep and then return promptly the next morning. Do you have any questions about your mission?"
I had a thousand, but I generalized them into just a few to spare our queen the headache of my curiosity. "How will they know who I am? And how will I know the way?"
She stood from her throne with supernatural grace, almost floating around the gilded chair to pace across the dais. "Fenris is already waiting for you in your study. He will mark your skin with the Chosen's symbol, which will identify you to my contact, and he will give you your file. Study tonight and commit the map to memory, because you will leave tomorrow morning with nothing."
I nodded, but one more question was burning on my tongue. The queen seemed to recognize this, her intuition even better than my own. She cocked her head in my direction. "What else afflicts your mind, Arya?"
I struggled to find the right words. "I'm still having trouble understanding how my test today proved I was ready to be a Chosen. We've been taught runners should only defend, and we have no reason to kill. Why me? Why now?"
Her steps paused momentarily, considering my question before turning to face me once more with delicate hands reaching behind her back. "We only gave you three rules as runners, the rest you gave yourselves. Runners tend to only allow themselves to venture so far into the unknown, fashioning a safety net out of the guidelines they make for protection. We told you to close your eyes and never face the danger approaching, or else you may be deceived by what you see. It heightened and developed your other senses, yes, but the blindfold was given to you for one simple purpose—to see if you would conquer the fear of removing it."
I furrowed my brow as she explained, not quite understanding how this answered my question. Noticing my confusion, she explained. "In the wastelands of Valdihr, there are no rules, little one. Your enemy will not yield if you tap out, they will not care if you pull a muscle or sprain an ankle. They will be relentless in killing you, and I need runners who are as merciless as our enemies. Today, you proved that when things get hard, you will do anything to survive, even break the rules you built your life upon. That is the kind of servant I require and the type of runner I will choose every time. My Chosen are defenders of knowledge, protectors of the truth, and you must be willing to die for the secrets you will learn. Our realm depends on it."
Queen Eivor then turned her back to me and escaped through a hidden door on the platform—leaving me trembling alone beneath a sunlit sky.
"Please tell me you’re almost done." I managed to say between a string of curses and panted breaths.
Fenris rolled his eyes at my profanity and continued to jam the small needle into my arm, each jab sending a drop of black ink into my skin and staining it for life. His other hand wrapped viciously tight around my wrist to steady my arm.
"You have scars all over your body, but getting a tattoo sets you over the edge?" He shook his shaved head disapprovingly as he came up for more ink. To distract myself from the burning pain scraping the inside of my forearm, I surveyed the designs covering his own arms. A mountain range wrapped around his deltoid and across his bicep, fading into a stream flowing down and around his inner arm. A skeleton wandered among stars above his wrist, and as he flipped his arm over, I noticed it was walking toward the same orb painted above the throne room.
"What do they mean? Your markings?" I asked.
Fenris shrugged and replied without breaking his concentration. "I like the way the mountains look when I run away from them. Once when I was lost, I found a stream, and it led me back home. Without it, I probably would've died. I got it stained to my arm to humble myself for the next runs." He continued to work again on my own art, and I cringed in anticipation. "The skeleton represents the death of my flesh and its selfish desires, forever bound to a life among the stars but always striving for a day in the sun."
My gaze roamed across the expanse of his forearm, admiring the work with a new perspective. "Can I get more after this?"
He snorted. "Sure, if you can stand this one. And if you survive your first run."
I winced at his comment. "You don't think I'll make it? You doubt me?"
He sighed and sat back to evaluate his work, clicking his tongue in approval. "We haven't had a female runner up here before. For the sake of overwhelming testosterone and masculinity, I sure hope you do, Arya. We could use a little sister to pick on."
A smile tugged at my lips, because I could use a family as well. "I lost my only brother a few weeks ago, it would do me good to gain a few more."
"What was his name?"
"Loren."
Fenris nodded slowly, his shoulders falling slightly at the mention of his name. "Aye, unfortunate about that one. It never gets easier losing a runner to the waste, which is why we're all usually there to welcome them back from a run. We waited a long time for him to return, sat there almost a full night's span."
He fanned my arm to accelerate the drying of the ink, then placed a clear bandage over the small design to seal it further into my skin with the instructions to keep it on overnight. Just like that, I was marked as Queen Eivor’s Chosen. A sword striking through a crescent moon was now a part of my arm and my identity.
"Any advice for tomorrow?" I asked, hopeful, as he packed up his things.
"Yeah. Run fast,” he said with a broad smile, revealing dimples in both of his dark-skinned cheeks. "Be quick, be quiet, and be careful, sis."
My smile faltered on my face as he addressed me in a way I hadn't been prepared for, but he didn't seem to notice as he nodded in farewell and walked out the door.
A thick folder sat open at the end of my large bed, along with a silver tray full of food making my stomach lurch every time I looked at it. My room was more than accommodating, matching the luxury of the hallway I’d witnessed on my arrival. Everything was just so…soft. I dove into sheets of shiny, navy textures and pillows folded neatly on top, letting an audible sound of pleasure escape from deep inside my chest. I lay there for a moment, letting myself feel the silky yields of success beneath my fingers. My body stretched its tired muscles over the expanse of the bed, nearly triple the size of the cot I was used to. If I wasn't careful, I would fall fast asleep against the plushness seducing my exhaustion.
I rolled to my side instead and picked up the file to study its contents. Inside, there was a picture of my contact, Commander Irving. The detailed sketch of the older gentleman burned itself into my memory, along with the map tucked behind it. West Mirth was the westmost, tallest summit among the Sacred Peaks where the mountain range coiled tightly in the upper left corner of the map. Trails from my home were outlined in red ink, weaving across the parchment like a spider web tossed in the wind. I found a path that eventually met the river, an access point for water should I need it, toward the kingdom of Grimsbane.
The citadel was drawn proudly in the center of the circular city. I dragged my thumb across the landmark, feeling the deviations the quill had made against the delicate page. It was all so surreal, lying on navy sheets with the world in my hands, just one night's sleep away from seeing the outside for the first time.
My stomach rolled again, reminding me of the meal I’d been ignoring in order to prioritize my mission. I lifted the silver dome covering the pewter tray and salivated at the spread underneath. Loaves of bread, oils, a hot soup with something questionable floating inside, salted meats, and a small jar filled with a golden substance. I stuck a finger in the thickened stuff, savoring the sweetness against my tongue as my lips wrapped around my forefinger.
