Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"Who?" Nancy asks.
"All of us." Manda's face is tight. "Lord Azar is upset and I think we're all about to be kicked out of the program."
6
JENNY
Even before we make it into the cafeteria, I can hear the sound of dishes being broken. Worried, I exchange a look with Manda. Her face is pale, her mouth drawn into an unhappy line. I remember that Lucas Daniels was supposed to talk to Lord Azar about their engagement, and I worry that it didn't go well. When I glance down at Manda's hand, there's no ring on her finger.
Oh no. “Where’s your ring, Manda?”
She glances around quickly, then leans toward me. “Azar won’t allow it. If we marry, he’ll kick us both out of the fort.” She swallows hard, like she’s fighting tears, and shrugs. “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay. I know she loves Lucas. I know she wants to marry him more than anything. But being kicked out of the fort is a death sentence for so many people. It’s starting over with zero protection and zero supplies. The only reason I survived for so long was because my father was a tough son of a bitch who killed anyone that threatened us. When he grew sicker over time, though, he immediately took us to Fort Dallas, because he knew I wouldn’t survive alone.
Neither, I suspect, would Manda and Lucas Daniels.
I want to ask more, but another dish crashes, and we both flinch. One of the guards stands in front of the doors to the cafeteria, his gun casually held across his chest. The hall is filled with women in sleep clothes, holding blankets around them, and everyone's frightened. It's clear no one knows what's going on.
There's another crash inside, this one louder than the last. If they break all the dishes, what are we going to use to eat? It's not like we can go to the store and get more. There are no stores anymore. Everything is precious. For Lord Azar to squander the fort's things like this feels incredibly wasteful and makes me upset.
We wait in the hall for a few minutes and no one dares to speak. Finally, one of the guards comes to the door, his face fatigued and grim. "Bring them inside."
"Ladies," the guard at the door says, holding it open for us. "Remember not to touch. You're all freshly clean."
We file inside, silent. The cafeteria tables are all folded up and lined against the back wall, the entire room was cleaned up and put away after the evening meal. I've helped with that a few times, and I know the amount of work it takes to keep the kitchens running and clean. I know what a pain in the ass it is to draw water from the working lines, mop and clean everything, and to do all the dishes. Which is why it's terrible seeing so many broken plates scattered on the ground. Glass shards are everywhere, and as we move into the cafeteria, Lord Azar picks up another plate and throws it against the wall. It makes a loud crashing sound, and everyone flinches.
He turns toward us, raging. His nostrils flare and his gaze settles on the collected women as if we're about to die.
Maybe we are.
I've only seen Lord Azar a few times. He keeps to himself, and he's taken a local woman—Melina, the medic—as his concubine. To me, the most striking thing about Lord Azar is that he always looks clean. In a fort that seems to be constantly dirty, the streets filled with mud and human waste and trash, his clothes and his hair are always impeccably pristine. Tonight is no different. Lord Azar is dressed in muted whites and beiges, his clothing billowing and flowing about him as if he's a sheikh of old. He's all pale golden tones, Lord Azar. His skin is tanned almost the same eerie shade as his pale eyes, and the long hair he keeps hidden under a baseball cap is a buff color, too. The other times I saw him, he looked regal and cold.
Tonight, he looks like a possessed man. His eyes are wild, his hair flying in strands around his head, and his teeth are bared in a snarl.
"Which one of you is it?" he demands as he stalks toward the huddled group of women. "Which one of you is the viper I am holding to my breast?"
No one answers. I have no idea what he's talking about, and I'm sure the other women don't, either.
The lord gives us another incensed look and then flips the entire tray of plates over. Everything smashes to the ground and into a thousand pieces. "I feed you! I shelter you!" he bellows. "And this is the thanks I get?"
I hug my blanket to my chest, terrified. Is he truly this mad over Manda and Lucas? I can't think of anything else it'd be. I glance over at Manda and her face is bone white with fear. She's thinking the same thing I am.