20
Lumin looks frantically from me to Imrin and back again. ‘Silver?’
I stumble over what to say but, above anything, I can hear the tick-tocking of my mum’s clock in my head.
‘We’ve got to go,’ I say, addressing Imrin as I pick the sheets back up from the ground. He doesn’t argue as I turn to Lumin.
‘You’re not going to tell, are you?’ Lumin asks, panic in his voice.
I shake my head. ‘Good luck with getting away. If I knew how you felt about everything, then perhaps we could have worked together?’
Lumin motions as if to say something but I don’t give him the opportunity, dropping the covers over his head and rushing back the way I came. I risk a glance at my thinkwatch.
Under two minutes.
‘Come on,’ I say to Imrin, too loudly, tearing up the stairs two at a time until we reach the top, where I swipe the borodron against the scanner, scramble through, and then swipe it once more to make the door hum into place. I hurry across the hallway with Imrin just behind me and we throw ourselves around a corner just as the heavy stamp of Kingsmen boots echo in the corridor we have just been standing in. There is the murmur of low voices and the noise of the door as it slides back into place. We are alone but the silence is deafening and already I am missing the chilling breeze on my skin.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘We could have gone too but it didn’t feel right. There’s so much more chance of three of us being caught, rather than one or two. It wouldn’t have been fair to him.’
Imrin’s face is hard to read. His lips are tight and his eyes don’t seem to have the same intensity as when we are together in the evenings. Perhaps it is because I have hardly ever seen him in the daylight but I suspect it is because he knows our biggest chance of getting away has gone.
‘Who was he?’
‘Lumin, he works in the labs.’
‘Is he the one who gave you lots of grief?’
‘Yes, I didn’t know he was looking for a way out too. I guess he had the same idea we did.’ My eyes flicker down to my thinkwatch. ‘We have to go or we’ll be noticed. We’ve been away too long anyway.’
Imrin nods an acceptance and turns to leave.
‘Am I going to see you tonight?’ I ask.
Imrin doesn’t answer, instead hurrying into the distance.
I dash back the way I came until I arrive at the labs and then stop before I reach the camera directly over the door. I smooth my hair down and straighten my clothes before opening the door and walking back to my workbench without a word.
I spend the rest of the afternoon waiting for someone to storm in, demanding to know where Lumin is but, as we reach the end of the day, I convince myself he has really got away. I wonder if there’s any chance he won’t be found and hope that Imrin and I will have an opportunity ourselves to try again next week.
Back at the dormitory in the evening, it is clear something isn’t right as there is a frantic scramble with people getting changed.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask one of the girls near the door who is actually speaking to me.
‘Ignacia was here five minutes ago and told us we have to be in the dining hall tonight. She told us we have to look our best.’
‘Just the girls, or the boys too?’
‘No idea, she didn’t say.’
‘Is it another banquet?’
‘I’ve no idea – she didn’t say.’ The girl speaks slowly as if I am stupid, so I apologise and return to my bed. Things feel off and I wonder if it is something to do with Lumin. If it is, it doesn’t explain why they need us dressed up.
While people hurry back and forth, I do what I always do: make myself presentable without going over the top. Even though it doesn’t cling to me the way it used to, I don’t want to risk wearing my mother’s dress, instead choosing a blue outfit from the wardrobe that is shorter and less flattering. I tie my hair back into a ponytail and make the token effort of visiting the bathroom – where I spend minutes staring into my own eyes in the mirror. I’m not even sure I recognise myself. My face is thinner than I ever remember and the area around my eyes is dark, much like Hart’s. I run my fingers along the material of my dress, feeling my ribs poking through, my thin fingers sliding into the gaps between the bones.
‘That’s horrible,’ I hear from behind me and look into the mirror to see Pietra standing there, eyeing me.
I straighten myself up and spin to face her, spitting a furious reply – ‘Don’t even talk to me’ – before stomping past her back into the bedroom.
In truth, it isn’t even her words that hurt, it is the way I feel about my own body. I think of myself as a shadow of the person who could hold my own with Opie. All of the exercise I used to get in the woods: the running, lifting, chasing, play-fighting and climbing. Now, I do nothing but hide in the mediocrity I will be showing off tonight.
I am doing enough to survive but it isn’t the same as living.
Before long, we are trooping along the corridors towards the main hall. I have gone for flat, comfortable shoes again but most of the girls are wearing heels as we clip-clop our way along the paths that now seem so familiar. There is so little to occupy ourselves with away from work that I assume most of them see dressing up as just about the only form of entertainment. As we are led into the hall, it is immediately obvious that something is different. The King is already there, standing in his box and looking down upon us as we parade in one at a time with Ignacia at the front.
The usual banqueting tables are nowhere to be seen and the male Offerings are already sitting on benches at the back of the room. Ignacia leads us along an S-shaped route around the floor until we reach an adjacent bench where we each sit. The lighting also seems different and for the first time since our opening entrance, the bright overhead spotlights aren’t making us squint as we look up towards the banked rows of seats. I look to see if I can spot Hart, Porter, Mira or Hari but, if they are seated there, they are lost among the other faces peering down towards us.
From the far end of the arena I cannot see Jela in her usual place; instead the seat is empty. The King is still standing, staring towards us until he sits with a nod towards the Minister Prime, who rises to his feet and holds out an arm, demanding a hush he already has. He speaks slowly, wrapping his tongue around each word. ‘You are all, no doubt, wondering why you have been called here this evening.’ He pauses, as if inviting one of us to confirm that’s true but the silence continues to hang in the air. ‘It is not, as you might have thought, for a feast, nor is it because our beloved monarch is continuing to look for another champion.’
Another pause as I feel a few of us on the bench shuffling uneasily.
‘It is, however, because we have an escapee in our midst …’
I feel my heart leap and struggle to keep my mouth closed as the main doors clang open and three Kingsmen drag the unmistakeable shape of Lumin into the arena. Even in the dimmer light, I can see the bruises on his face as his battered, broken body is held up by the men. As they reach the centre of the area, they sling him to the floor where he lies unmoving.
‘This man’s name is Lumin Barrow,’ the Minister Prime says, addressing us. ‘He was in the position you are now two years ago. By the good grace of our King, he has been granted all the hospitality and support anyone could have hoped for but today he tried to repay that by leaving this place.’
Lumin rolls over on the floor, crawling towards us. Blood and dirt are smeared across his head as his eyes stare crookedly across the room towards me. I shake my head the merest amount to tell him it wasn’t me who told but I cannot tell if he sees it.
The Minister Prime’s voice booms ferociously. ‘Lumin Barrow, do you confess to your crimes?’
As he rolls over, I see that Lumin’s clothes are ripped, blood seeping through the holes and oozing down his leg. He groans in pain, collapsing onto his back.
Annoyed by the lack of reply, the Minister Prime signals towards the Kingsmen. As they approach, Lumin coughs and splutters something I do not hear properly but that I can only assume is an admission of guilt as the guards stop mid-stride.
The King stands and looks disdainfully down upon Lumin. I’m not sure he is even that bothered about the escape attempt; he seems more annoyed at whatever he had planned for the evening being disrupted. He squints towards our benches and then clears his throat. ‘Where is my champion?’
Everyone’s eyes shoot sideways towards Rush, who slowly rises to his feet and walks forward at the King’s request. One of the Kingsmen marches over and hands Rush a coil of something black, but it is too far away for me to know exactly what it is until the King speaks again: ‘Have you ever used a whip, boy?’
‘No.’
‘Well, now is your chance to learn.’
Four Kingsmen step forward and pin Lumin to the ground, turning him over and standing on his wrists and ankles so he cannot move. The King tells Rush to tug Lumin’s shirt up over his head until the bare flesh of his back is exposed. At first, I think I am going to be spared witnessing the worst because we are a fair distance away but then, horribly, there is a steady buzzing as large screens descend in the four corners of the room, clicking into place. Someone I don’t recognise comes forward holding a camera but the King mutters ‘not yet’, and then orders the Kingsmen to pull Lumin up so that he can see one of the screens.
At first it is blank but then it pops and sizzles into life until a grey-coloured building appears. Whoever is filming there appears to be moving as the images are shaky. They approach a property which seems very similar to the type of house my mother and Colt live in. The roof juts at a disjointed angle, but there are two front windows and a mucky once-white door.
Everyone’s attention is suddenly thrown back to Lumin as he howls in agony. At first I think someone must have struck him but he is being held up by two of the Kingsmen. The truth sinks in moments before the King speaks.
‘This is where Mr Barrow grew up. If he has no respect for my house, then I have no respect for his.’
Within seconds there is a whooshing sound from the screens and the building is on fire. Bright orange flames lick the roof as a thick blackness fills the screen, smoke billowing towards us until it is almost impossible to see anything at all. All the while, there are screams of terror and the sound of running footsteps. Eventually, there is a ‘plip’ sound and the screens switch to a close-up of Lumin. He looks far worse in detail, cuts and scrapes along most of his face and dried flakes of dark blood mixing with fresh gouges. He is whimpering and opening his mouth as if trying to speak, although nothing is coming out.
‘Your parents and your sister have been arrested and will stay secured until I decide otherwise.’
As he sits, the Kingsmen take their cue and tear Lumin’s shirt from his body before pinning him to the ground again. The screens focus on his back as Rush wraps the whip around his hand. His eyes flicker sideways and I think he is shaking a little but, under the gaze of the King and with four Kingsmen close by, we all know he has no choice.
His arm arches forward and the whip fizzes through the air before landing across Lumin’s back with a fleshy crack. There is a gasp around the arena as the image on the screen zooms in on the thin, deep wound. It is a mangled mess of pink as the King yells ‘again’. Once more the whip flashes through the air and lands with a snap which echoes so viciously, it feels as if it is tearing through our ears. The girl two seats away from me is trying to stifle tears but no one seems to notice as a third and fourth slap of the whip collides with flesh. Lumin screamed in pain at the first two strikes but he is silent now; the four marks on his skin have criss-crossed each other, leaving a section that is such a mixture of pink, purple, red and black that it is almost as if I am seeing a new colour.
Rush steps back and drops the whip to the floor and I can see he is definitely trembling now as he stumbles back towards us. The King says nothing but has a satisfied smirk on his face as the Minister Prime stands and raises his arm for silence.
‘You should, of course, now all be aware that we check all transport in and out of the castle,’ he says. ‘Now get out of my sight.’