It was a clear night; the stars close enough to reach. August lazily reached up a hand, trying to cup it underneath the brilliance of the burning star. Fen snickered from beside him. He turned to see her watching him, her dark brown hair knotted at the top of her head, bound by a string of twine. There a few wisps of hair floating around her face—from the soft breeze that blew in from the distant hills—and brushing against the sun-kissed freckles dotting her nose and cheekbones.
He had woken her up earlier to bring her to the roof of the local dress shop. It had the best view of the Lower District and the stars above. He had also gotten lucky at the end of his work shift that day and was able to snatch an orange from Mr. Moreno’s fruit stand. The man was aware of August’s actions, this time, but still allowed him to take one, feeling far too generous considering the many times August had stolen from him before. Of course, Mr. Moreno was blissfully unaware of those other occasions. August felt the need to share this victory with Fen, since it was not often someone like them got to enjoy something so sweet.
With a smile toward Fen, August turned his attention back to the stars. They were not something two street rats, such as themselves, were used to seeing. Not often did they have a moment to sit still long enough to star-gaze, much too forced on trying to survive instead. It was such a rare sight, especially to Fen, who was constantly caring for her mother. Her mother suffered from a long-term illness with a bleak outlook. She slept most of the time, too weak to maintain consciousness for too long, but Fen continued to stay by her side, doing anything to make sure she was as comfortable as she could be in her current state.
August was still glad Fen agreed to meet him up on the roof this night. Even though it was not much, it was still a small reprieve, and one of the only things August could think to offer her. He looked down at the two remaining orange slices in his palm, his skin now sticky from the juice.
“One for me and one for you,” August said, placing one of the pieces in her hand.
“Thank you, August. I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, tossing the remaining piece into his month. After some quick maneuvering, he smiled, the orange slice covering his teeth. They both broke into a fit of laughter. It was cut short, though, as a search light rounded the corner on the street below. Even though they both knew the guards would not search the roofs for anyone, they still flattened themselves against the shingles. After the guard turned the next corner, August waited a few breaths before sitting up.
“Twenty seconds,” August said, as Fen brushed dust off the front of her tunic.
“It’s not going to work, August,” she said, looking down and fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “I think we should just desert the plan.”
“It can work and it will!” He stood, keeping his eyes on the streets below. “It has to work. That medicine can save your mother, Fen. Wouldn’t you want to go get it?”
“Everything comes with a price,” she said, shaking her head. “The risk is too high to be betting so much on those twenty seconds.”
“I’m not letting you give up. We can do this, I know we can. Do you trust me?” He looked down at Fen. She met his gaze, a wetness shining across her eyes in the moonlight. He reached a hand toward her. “Well?”
She nodded and took a hold of his hand. “Always.”
. . . . .
August woke up to an early morning sun shining in through his window. He sat up, his eyes squinting against the brightness. When he went to rub the sleep from them, August found his cheeks wet with tears. Quickly swiping a rag across his eyes and cheeks, he stood up and stretched, thankful for his private room.
It was a small room, only large enough for a single bed, a one-drawer stand, and a desk with a chair pushed up against it, but it was completely his. All recruit bedrooms looked the same. Any and all luxuries were excluded, since their focus was meant to be on their training. August did not have much adjusting to do, though, coming from never having much growing up anyway. Having his own room was actually a step up from where he used to live, but there were still days he missed the faded yet colorful blankets padding the corner of his family’s hut.
He shook his head. There was no time to dwell on the past, when there were more pressing matters at hand, like his desertion from the army. There was still much to plan and no time to waste. Slipping into a new uniform—which were placed in his room every day by some unseen servant—and shoving his feet into his boots, he made his way to the door.
A group of recruits were trudging by in the hall outside his room, some trying to rub the grogginess out of their eyes, while others stifled their yawn. They were not yet used to the early start of a training day, which had always begun with a morning run through the woods on the far side of the castle grounds. The morning mists were likely still clinging to the ground, shrouding exposed tree roots and brambles. August knew that he would see these same soldiers stumble into the dining room late in the afternoon, covered in cuts and bruises from the run, only to be paired off in duels afterward.
“Look alive! Look alive!” An officer yelled, jogging up alongside the group. Instantly, the recruits straightened, their heads lifted upward and eyes forward. The officer nodded once to August, who stood at attention in the doorway. “At ease, Blackwell,” the man said, before continuing down the hallway to the front of the group.
August turned in the opposite direction, weaving past other soldiers to make his way down to the dining hall.
The hall was made up of three long tables running down its length, before meeting a shorter table place perpendicularly from the rest. All the members of the military ate together, battling for spots at the long tables, while only the generals were allowed seats at the shorter table. For the most part that table tended to be empty, since most generals had their meals in their respected quarters. Even so, none of the other soldiers attempted to sit at that table, opting to stand or sit on the ground if the hall was too packed. Thankfully, at this time of day, there were plenty of space available.
The entire right wall of the dining hall was made up of glass, opening the room up to a view of the castle grounds. August could see the group of recruits that passed him in the hallway, making their way to the edge of the woods. On the other side of the room was a long counter covered in platters and pots, with a stack of plates and silverware on the end closest to the door. Behind the counter was the kitchen, with five large ovens and four wide stoves, which consumed about four cords of wood a day. The stoves also provided a pleasant heat for the entire hall, bathing it in a welcoming warmth.
August had allowed himself an extra hour of sleep this morning, knowing that he would not have training. Today was the day he would meet the team he would be in charge of for the Nourtris mission. The downside of sleep late, though, was the lack of food, as he walked over to the counter and found most of the pots and platters scraped clean. He grabbed a hard roll, an apple, and a couple potato slices before coaxing one of the cooks to make him an egg. As he turned on his heel, meager breakfast in hand, he found Ronan waving a hand wildly in his direction.
“You know, I could’ve convinced Cecile to make you a better breakfast than that,” Ronan said, gesturing to August’s plate as he took a seat across from him.
“It already looks like you worked your magic on her,” August commented. Indeed, Ronan’s plate was piled high with eggs, potatoes, pancakes, and sausages. Cecile had really outdone herself. August looked up at Ronan, but he was looking over August’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. He turned his head to see what Ronan was looking at to find Cecile, who was beginning to clean up the platters from the counter.
She was a petite girl, with a short build and softened edges. Wide honey brown eyes peeked out from underneath light blond fringe, while the rest of her hair was neatly tied at the back of her head. The heat from the ovens reddened her cheeks to a natural glow as she quickly worked her way down the length of the counter.
“So,” August said, turning back to Ronan, “have you confessed your undying love for her yet?”
He dodged out of the way as a potato wedge made fast for his face. He could not help but smile at the deep wave of red as it rushed up Ronan’s neck and bloomed across his face.
“Not so loud,” Ronan said, shushing August’s chuckles. “No, I haven’t said anything yet. I want to take it slow.”
“Really? That would be a first. By now you would’ve made a fool of yourself only to be completely crushed at being turned down.” August had known from plenty past failed attempts of Ronan trying to gain the attention from a girl. He was so quick to fall madly in love that it clouded his reason to approach with care after a reasonable length of time.
Ronan’s face deepened to a darker shade of red as he tried to bury it in his plate of food. “You don’t think I know that?” He said between bites. “I don’t want to mess up this time. I’ve been working on this for months now.”
August turned back toward the kitchen. Cecile had paused by the counter and was wiping her hands off on a cloth hanging from her apron, as she watched Ronan. After a few moments, she caught August’s gaze and hurried back toward the sinks hidden behind a wall that jutted out, blocking most of the view to the kitchen.
“I think it’s safe to say she won’t be the one to humiliate you.”
“You think? You’re not setting me up to fail, are you?”
August shook his head. “I have better things to worry about than your love life, although it can be quite entertaining.”
Ronan stuffed his mouth with pancakes drowned in syrup. “Are you worried about your mission?”
“In a sense…” August trailed off. “Wait. How do you know about the mission?”
He shrugged. “I have my ways. Speaking of which, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
August looked toward the windows, sure enough the sun was much higher in the sky than he had expected. He cursed under his breath. He meant to have only a quick breakfast, since he was supposed be at the main entrance of the Tower to meet his sponsor.
Each leader of the five teams for the Nourtris mission had a sponsor, a captain who volunteered to guide the teams through the plans and to lead them to the front lines. From there, the teams would head along their designated routes and try to locate Nourtris—the specific location was yet unknown, only a general area was mapped out, made up of a few miles.
August was supposed to meet with his sponsor ahead of time, to go over some final details before meeting the team assigned to him. It seemed he was already destined to mess up as a mission leader. Standing up, August took one more bite, before saying goodbye to Ronan and striding for the doors.
Comments (0)
See all