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But the team charged with my care that day let me eat two cookies on the short flight back to the academy. Chocolate chip and something covered in soft white dust. One gruff soldier even reminded me to wipe the powdered sugar from my lips before our transport door opened, so I would not be caught.
The remembered taste of that sweetness and the bitterness of my tears faded to an untrustworthy memory as the weight of academy responsibility stomped out all thoughts of what should have been my home.
Academy coursework ate up any time my mind might have wandered. There were injuries to heal from and the fog to pursue.
I had not seen the wonderful woman in over a decade. I had not smelled her or tasted the sweets I was certain she would prepare for me. I had not been gifted another beautiful pink box packed with treats that would be confiscated.
I knew the names of my half-siblings by heart but had no idea what they might look like now. Did Richard still have an easy smile and a ready laugh? Was my mother still beautifully demure and elegant in her movements?
Did she still hold a hand over her mouth when she laughed?
Once I was ruined, I would be free of the academy. No one could stop me from visiting my mom. From getting to know her before I might be assigned to a surveyor team and sent out into the fog.
She would be excited to see me—I was certain. Proud of her hybrid daughter who had never let a human die on her watch.
I reminded myself of all of this when nerves came to tangle with guilt. It was only my conditioning making me feel as if leaving the grounds was a betrayal of everything I was raised to believe.
What was my anxiety’s purpose, if it came between me and what I wanted: the fog, my family, my freedom?
Hair twisted atop my head, I had done my best to copy one of the photos in my forbidden magazines. The painstaking process involved every hairpin I might find, yet it was worth the effort.
I would make myself as beautiful as possible, corner a male, and get this over with.
One final pin, followed by a long lingering look to make sure I was acceptable. Hands to the bodice of my black dress, I smoothed the lines as if smoothing my uniform.
Around my breasts, it fit to my form, a full skirt blooming outward at my natural waist. Modest yet feminine. A creation years in the making, encasing my body and ready to serve a higher purpose.
Lipstick was saved for last. Pink and waxy, I dragged it over my pout and felt I looked very pretty indeed.
Pretty enough at least one male would desire me.
And all I needed was one.
Maeve had observed my preparations, watching from her perch on my bed.
Unlike my hand-sewn dress, she had procured a real one. Sprays of pink flowers on a dark-blue background, it was far more vibrant than mine.
Like her.
Blonde curls caught up on top of her head, her swan neck on display, she could have been one of the females in my magazine. And I could not help but love that even if we were risking our lives, the two of us got to enjoy such a feminine moment together.
Never had I shown another sister my black dress.
Never would I have guessed she’d had one of her own.
“You look beautiful, Lorieyn.” Smiling as she looked me over, she added, “But we may have a problem. Neither of us has shoes.”
There was no getting around that issue. It was one thing to sew my dress, but to be caught asking a human to smuggle me pretty footwear was beyond stupid. “I’m quieter with none. Should we approach this correctly, no one should have time to see us long enough to observe our feet.”
* * *
Escapingthe academy had never been my motivation in the past. I preferred to simply sneak out of the dorm and wander my home at will. The path was not that different, only our end goal. However, I did enjoy the looks of shocked disbelief when I led Maeve through my catalog of tricks.
She had no idea the things I’d been up to in my unruly years. And I will admit, I had an innate need to rebel every time injustice pounded me down.
I was not the kind to be kept in a cage. I would gnaw the bars; I would find a way.
Even if that way caused me harm.
