Scars of Gold

Chapter Four

My stomach pitched as we approached to the canteen. I hadn't felt this disorientated entering it since I was five and newly separated from my mother. Hazy memories of that first trip filled my head now: the blind panic of shuffling along with the other girls in my dorm, hunting for someone familiar in the sea of faces towering above me. Neighbours? Cousins? I don't remember who I was hoping to find. Whoever they were, we were never reunited.

The Lathrians ensured that family members were separated as completely as possible in the maze of dormitories and work rotations; a puzzling algorithm that stopped you forming alliances outside of your dorm. It was why the twins had accumulated a cult following: brothers remaining together against the odds. They gave people hope for a reunion with family they'd lost long ago.

The family I'd come so close to finding again last night.

The twins probably weren't even related. Everything about them was carefully constructed theatre. An illusion. The victory they wanted couldn't be won through the blood and tears of our people.

"I'm going to enjoy this." The transformation from the wild altora who'd stood in the centre of the storm last night to the woman who now walked beside me was striking. In crisp, tapered trousers, white blouse, and tight bun, Evanthe Delassey - head of the Lathrian altorae - looked like she was on her way to a council meeting, not a torture session. Under the stark corridor lights, her auretis was even more obvious: a beautiful golden sun, glimmering on her warm brown cheek. We were flanked in front and behind by the city altorae: a sans and the vis from last night, who was bruised, but otherwise unscathed.

Etealians pressed themselves to the walls to keep out of the way as we passed, preferring the burn of the stone to the altora's glare. We were heading towards the southern canteen, which Evanthe had picked specifically. It was the one where I ate every morning and evening with the rest of my dorm. Today, my punishment would provide the breakfast entertainment.

My steps faltered, earning me a shove from the altora behind. I looked over my shoulder to glare at him, but the smile he returned was menacing enough to make me wish I hadn't bothered. He was a sans: nominally a healer, but today he would be using his powers to brand me.

Low level offenders were whipped, the open wounds on our backs serving as a reminder of who we were and whose orders we followed. Anyone foolish enough to step out of line again was marked: a handprint scarred into soft flesh to signal you were a troublemaker. Someone to be watched at all times. My back was already riddled with scars. Now, thanks to my desperate actions last night, my face would bear a permanent mark of the Lathrians' brutal rule as well.

Mel, Fari and I used to fantasise about escaping one day - breaking out of the city and finding a boat that would take us overseas. It was never something we took seriously - we didn't even know how to sail, for a start, or what direction to head in - but my chest felt heavy at the realisation that even if we did manage it, after today I would never be able to fully leave my homeland behind. I would always be an Etealian who pushed her luck too many times.

I shuddered, earning a swift, victorious glance from Evanthe which forced me to swallow my nerves. I would not allow her an easy victory. I was too proud to show my fear.

Heads turned as we entered the canteen. My eyes were drawn automatically to F16's table, searching for signs of my friends. Fari was sitting in her usual seat, her eyes rimmed red, bruises camouflaging her arms. She'd made it back inside at heavy cost, but at least she wasn't stood beside me. 

Beside her, Mel's seat was empty. My pulse quickened. Was she still outside? Had she escaped? Or was she too wounded to make it to breakfast? I couldn't even contemplate the other possibility. My head swirled as the nausea returned. Mel had to be okay. Please, let her be okay.