Forged in Frost and Fire (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Kings trilogy)

Chapter Eighteen

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

My eyes were still open as the lights flickered on in the room. For the first time in a month, Foley hadn't come in and shouted for us to get our asses out of bed. It was a small relief, and made some of the tension that was building in my chest slip away. It still wasn't enough though. I felt...scared. And I hated being scared. I had been scared my entire life, scared when my parents died, scared when Tellie left the first time, scared when she came back broken, scared when I met Elda, scared when I transformed. Scared, scared, scared. I hated the feeling, it was always there...lingering in the back of my mind, clutching to me like a parasite.

I heard the sound of initiates shuffling around, some groaning, others yawning loudly. I never understood a loud yawn. Like, did they want others to know how tired they were? Because it wasn't a competition, every initiate here was tired. But today...today felt more alive. There were hushed whispers floating around, the tapping of heels on the floor, the feeling of excitement filled the air and I nearly groaned, wishing I could turn over and bury my face into my pillow. I almost wished that today was just another training day. I wished we could've been running laps around the course and swimming in frigid water. That would've been better than what today's events held.

"Are you hoping the mattress will swallow you whole?" I heard Callan ask. I picked my head up from the pillow and turned to glare at him, squinting against the harsh lights. He was standing below my bunk, pulling on the clothing they gave us yesterday. Special uniforms so they could track us better during the agility course.

"Gods above, what happened to your face?" he asked, marching up to me and examining my jaw and cheekbone which were aching from last night. In fact, my entire body felt like one big bruise. My ribs were aching sharply, my head felt like a hammer was inside of it, pounding away at my skull, and all my muscles felt like they had been pulled taut then put back together. So Mason and his group had done more damage than I had thought. Bastards.

I felt panic stir in my chest. "Nothing. I went out for a drink of water last night, tripped, and fell down the stairs on the way back." There, that lie would cover the bruises that surely marked where I had been beaten. I felt a thick wad form in my throat as I thought about what had happened last night. I could still feel Foley's hands brushing the waistband of my underwear as he tried to pull down my pants. I bit back nausea.

"Really? You look like you took a beating." Callan's knuckle brushed my cheekbone, near my eye, and I flinched away from him, the sharp pain bringing me back to reality. I forced my body into a sitting position, ignoring the way the bumps and bruises commanded me not to.

"I did," I said. "From the stairs." The lie slipped easily off of my tongue and I almost felt bad for it. Callan had shared so many hard truths with me while I had been lying to him this entire time. Of course I realized that sharing who I truly was would put me into serious trouble, but I really did hate lying to him. He was becoming a close friend.

I motioned for him to turn away after I grabbed my clothes. I pulled them on quickly and awkwardly stuck my sore limbs into the arm holes. If getting dressed was hard enough, I couldn't imagine what the agility course was going to feel like. I was so screwed. I climbed down the ladder, having to pinch my lips together to keep from groaning on the way down. I reached down to pull on my boots, a wince escaping my lips as I did.

"You would tell me if....if something happened, wouldn't you?" Callan asked. His boots came into my line of vision and I forced my eyes to remain solely on the floor so that I couldn't see him.

"Something like what?" I asked, that wad in my throat coming back. It took me a minute to recognize that that wad was not a wad at all, but my throat closing with guilt. I was such a dirty liar. I should've told him that Mason and his gang decided to attack me and threw me into the river to die last night. Should've told him that afterwards, Foley had tried to get into my pants despite my lack of consent. I could feel the words resting at the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I couldn't open up my lips and speak them.