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year 49 of the curse
Uncle Micah had taught me many useful things over the years.
Among them was that anger and fear had no place on the battlefield. You left those emotions behind you.Anyemotion had no place in your mind when facing a mission, a fight.
Thus far, I was utterly failing Micah.
My temper flared, burning brighter than any man-made flame. It was my greatest weakness—my inability to tame my fury, to place it inside a box and face the world with clear eyes.
Not when my vision was glazed in red.
He’d all but promised I’d be on that list, and then he’d turned around and chosen the recruits closest to me? No, I wouldn’t stand for that.
Anger didn’t even begin to cover what slithered in my veins.
It was my life in Cila all over again—being told what I could and could not do. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Micah and someparticularlycontentious training sessions, I’d have loosed an arrow into the eye of some deserving man back home.
Sure, I understood he was trying to protect me, but Jude should’ve realized there wouldn’t be anything he could do to stop me from going once he’d called those names.
Secretly I suspected he knew this too.
Right after my confrontation with the commander, I’d crept back to the dorms, snagging my only extra set of fresh clothes and a hooded cloak that would provide some warmth against the chill outside these walls. Timepieces were rare—meant only for the wealthy or those in power—but I remembered seeing one of the boys hiding an older model beneath his mattress, and I took that as well.
The next stop was the kitchens, where I loaded up on supplies—and a canteen full of vodka. I’d expected water, but the vodka was a lovely surprise I couldn’t turn down.
The mission at hand was simple: I’d stay hidden as my fellow recruits ventured beyond the gates and into the thick of the Pastoria Forest. The trick was to allow them just enough distance to believe they were in the clear before I pursued.
Now, crouching in the unlit corner of the stables, I observed Pat and my friends mounting their prepared steeds, their bags bulging at the seams. They’d been outfitted in leather jackets and coarse black cloaks, their boots replaced with those the Knights wore.
None of them sported the grins I’d gotten to know and memorize over the past few days, and all the good-natured camaraderie was absent.
Ju—Commander Maddox—escorted them through the wrought-iron gates, riding ahead with his head encased in that menacing steel helmet, the obsidian spikes particularly ominous today. While he didn’t wear armor—likely due to the added burden—he was undoubtedly on his way to battle.
The hilt of the jeweled dagger I’dborrowedfrom the training room poked into my side. It would be a good bribe for a greedy stablehand.
“Psst!” I hissed from the shadows, spotting my prey.
The young stablehand’s brown eyes rose suspiciously to where I lurked in the dim. He glanced both ways before ambling over, his tawny brow thoroughly furrowed.
“I need a horse that is quick and won’t be noticed missing,” I barked, not granted the time for a smooth introduction. And sure, it was a tall order, but I prayed the jewels embedded in the dagger would persuade him to take the risk.
The boy gave a derisive scoff, holding back a chuckle. “Get lost.” He waved me off, turning to grab a rusted shovel from a hook on the wall. I slid from the shadows.
“So this”—I extracted the polished weapon from its hiding place—“wouldn’t interest you, then?” I made sure to twist the blade so that the seductive gleam of the gems caught the light of the torches. Hells, even I would be tempted to accept the offer if our roles were reversed.
As I’d suspected, the stable boy’s features brightened in awareness, the sneer he’d worn wiped clean off his gaunt face. “W-where did you get that?”
“Does it matter?” I raised a brow, shrugging. I took a bold step closer. “You either want it or not, and it is well worth the price of a horse. Look at the quality of these sapphires surrounding the ruby.” I sounded like some of the traveling merchants that frequented our village every March, pushing their wares onto busy shoppers.
The boy didn’t even pretend to think it over.
With a displeased grumble, he relented, shooting me a crude gesture before vanishing into the farthest stall. The smile that lifted the corners of my mouth was triumphant. It had been almost too easy.
My smug grin plummeted upon seeing the horse he’d secured for me.
The chocolate mare had some age on her, that much was apparent. She seemed as ready for a strenuous trek as a three-legged donkey, and that was me being generous. “Are you trying to pull one over on me, boy? That horse has to be older than I am!”
“You want her or not? This is the only mare that will go unnoticed, and it’s my only offer.” He defiantly crossed his reedy arms at his chest, raising a thin brow as if to ask, ‘What are you going to do about it?’
