“You need to chill the hell out!” I demanded, while she snorted and fought off my hands, trying to stay mad. “I swear to the gods you look like you’re forty life-cycles old right now!”
Footsteps sounded outside our little box, and I knew that Emmy or Jerath would actually kill me if we were late to our first assignment, so I straightened my clothes, dropped my stupid bag on the other bed, and followed my best friend from the room. I remained quiet and demure, not voicing my many opinions on what a shit-hole it was that they had shoved us into. I thought this was supposed to be an honour? I’d have preferred to stay in the village, if anyone wanted to know my opinion on it all. I hadn’t stayed because I wouldn’t leave my sister, but it was still my preference.
I’d give Emmy something: the trip up the stairs did seem a lot shorter than going down. We emerged from our rat-hole-in-the-wall and since I expected to see Jerath standing there, hands on hips, I was astonished enough to trip and knock down fifteen or so dwellers, because there were three sols waiting for us.
The dwellers who tumbled with me jumped quickly to their feet, all of them looking around, trying to figure out who had knocked them down. I was doing it too, looking around with a confused expression on my face … because survival was kind of important. The three sols stepped forward, moving just a little closer to us, and I found myself caring less about my tripping and more about how shiny these people were.
There were two men and a lady. The female was in the centre, dressed in shimmering white, her dress floor-length, demonstrating how slim and tall she was. Her hair was bound in golden curls, her eyes a dark, stormy grey—scary and exotic, all at once. I couldn’t look away.
“Welcome dwellers,” she announced coolly. “I am Elowin, the Head of the Dweller-relations committee here at Blesswood. You are honoured to be here this sun-cycle, to serve the sols and the gods.”
We are honour … was this speech for real?
“We only allow the best dwellers in all of Minatsol to attend our sols in Blesswood. Dwellers who have demonstrated their intelligence, skill, grace, and discretion. You speak to no one of what goes on inside these walls. You are not to be seen or heard. You do your job right and you will be rewarded. After you spend seven life-cycles here, you will be offered a position with a family of worth in Soldel, Dvadel, or Tridel. This is your future; don’t mess it up.”
The men were clearly her pretty arm candy. The one on the right, a brunette with longer hair that he had tied at his nape, started handing out sheets of parchment to us. We all knew how to read; it was one of the few things the villages made sure every child could do. Read and write the common language. Each ring had its own dialect, but everyone spoke the common language. The language of the gods.
It was a timetable, schedule, and assigned job list. I ran my eyes over the list, noticing that Emmy had library and kitchen duties, as well as classrooms 325, 2010, and Study Hall 8. She also got the female dorms 10-15. I searched for my name next, hoping that I would at least be close to her. They were going to have us working for the entire sun-cycle, every single sun-cycle, and I was already fearing that I would never see her again.
Finally, I found it, way past all the girls’ names. Will Knight. Oh crap, made sense for my curse to screw me like this. I was assigned to arena and training duties, classrooms 346 and 2213, Study Hall 8, and male dorms 1-5.
“I guess that explains the name on the bedroom then,” Emmy said, her face drawn as she clenched her fists tight around the paper. “They think you’re a boy.”
“But—”
Emmy shooshed me. “Just take it, Willa, they said you can’t ask for any changes. This is all preordained by the gods.”
I snorted, unable to keep my voice down. “Actually this is preordained by our idiot village leader who was probably too drunk to notice he filled my name in wrong.”
“It’s no big deal.” Emmy was lying through her teeth now, trying not to cause a scene as Elowin split us up into two groups to tour the grounds, sending the boys off with one of her henchmen, and the rest of us off with the second. “Just borrow some clothes from one of the male dwellers—maybe a hat, too? They probably won’t even mention the fact that you look like a girl because that’s super rude.”
“Rude like … I don’t know … shooting a crossbow through my chest?”
“It didn’t go through your chest.”