Daughters of the King |✓|

Preface

I sat in the back of the truck as we bumped down a battered dirt road. I sat on the floor, staring at nothing. Only the sound of the rocks beneath our tires, the gentle breathing of six terrified people. I felt their eyes pressing into me like daggers, their questions and accusations tangible in the air.

No one said anything. No one knew what to say.

It was easy enough to guess what they were all thinking. Why did you do it? How could you?

For a chance at freedom, I didn't say. For me and Gunnar's baby.

They didn't understand. They sat rigid in their seats like pillars of judgment, angled away from me, craving distance. Even Tomoko. Even Bastian, who'd fallen into an uncharacteristic silence.

These people who'd been willing to stand by me, to risk everything. They were full of regret now, sitting around me in the back of that truck, their faces marked by pure disbelief. They couldn't believe what had just happened. I scarcely could believe it myself, even though I was the one who'd pulled the trigger.

She must truly be insane, their eyes seemed to say.

I believed them.

~

Back in the City of Clouds, Bjorn walked me home. He's the only one who dared get close. I was shivering hard. I'd started shivering days ago and it wouldn't stop, as though the coldest realm of hell was getting close. It was coming for me.

Bjorn held a blanket tight around my shoulders and helped guide me forward. I emptied out my thoughts and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Nothing else. Just one foot, then the other.

As we walked down main street huddled together like that, a hush fell upon the small crowd of those who had dared to wait—dared to hope—for our return. As soon as they saw our faces, they stood back in quiet resignation. They did not yet know what I had done, but they watched with knowing eyes. They could tell something awful had happened, it hung in the air.

I was grateful for Bjorn's presence. I relied on his strength to get me home, since I wouldn't have made it otherwise. The breeze that swept passed us seemed to whisper accusations at me. What have you done, what have you done?

I shivered harder; Bjorn held me tighter.

We walked together through my front door and up the stairs to my room. He helped take off my boots and tucked me into bed, as though I were a child. Then he stood by the bed and glared down at me, as though I were a monster.

I was. I knew that I was.

"Don't worry," I said. "I intend on keeping my promise. I'll leave next chance I get. You'll have your camp all to yourself."

Despite my words, the look of worry on his face never eased. "I don't think you realize what you've done."

I didn't know what he meant. I didn't have the mental capacity to absorb his words, and he never explained. He just left the room without saying anything else.

Even in my unfocused state of mind, I felt the meaning behind his actions. He was turning his back on me, leaving me alone to wallow in a darkness I'd single-handedly created.

It didn't take long, after that. In a matter of hours after my return, the news of what had happened spread through the camp. By morning, there wasn't a pair of eyes in the whole place that didn't stare at me as though I were an apparition—something crawled out from their nightmares.

I couldn't tell whatthey were thinking. I'm not even sure they knew themselves. Fear? Curiosity?Hatred? Maybe it was all of these things. The only thing I knew for certain wasthis: no one would ever look at me the same again.