Page 7 of Daughter of the Ninth Line: Part One

Opening the wardrobe, I sifted through my clothes. Pulling out another pair of men’s pants, I screeched as something furry fell out of it. “Fuck!”

The purple stolt glared up at me, like I was the problem here.

“Are you fuckingkiddingme right now? Don’t be mad at me just becauseyoudecided to sleep in my damn clothes, you tiny hairball. You could have been a war cat’s dinner if it wasn’t for me, so have some gratitude.”

Despite my chastisement, I reached into the pocket of my dirty pants and split the remaining chunk of jerky between the two of us. It grabbed the little piece of dried meat in its jaws and disappeared beneath the bed. Guess I had a housemate after all.

I managed to pull on my underwear, but that was it. I laid down on the bed and tried to shuffle on my pants, but soon enough, I flopped back, exhausted. Maybe I’d rest for a little while, just to get my strength back.

Five

Avalon

When I woke, my clock said it was almost midnight, and my stomach said it was about to crawl up my throat and find a better person to live inside. Also, there was a girl sitting on the side of my bed, staring down at me.

“What the fuck?!” I screeched.

She tilted her head. “Your boobs are out.”

I recognized her from the Twelfth Line. I ground my teeth together, pulling a blanket across my body. “That’s because I’m in my room, in my bed. Alone.”

Shrugging, she stood. “We were worried about you when you didn’t turn up for dinner. I volunteered to come and check you hadn’t died after training.”

That was oddly sweet. “Uh. Thank you?”

Grinning at me, the girl thrust out her hand, palm up. I stared at it stupidly, until I remembered that it was the traditional farewell of the Twelfth Line. Placing my palm to hers, I slid it along and then curled my fingertips against hers. It was a gesture that they did when they parted ways, one small clinging motion that said they longed to see you again, or something. See, etiquette lessons weren’t a giant waste of time.

The girl turned and walked out of my bedroom, with no other explanation or even telling me her name. I slumped back against the pillow, weighing up whether I should go back to sleep, or find my way to the kitchen and hope I could sneak in and raid the shelves without alerting the staff.

My stomach gave another painful cramp. I was starving, and I needed food.

Decision made, I stood and pulled on a long-sleeved black shirt that hit my knees. Another one of Kian’s shirts. He was going to have to go to the tailor sooner than he normally would once he realized I’d stolen a large portion of his wardrobe.

Slipping out of my room, and then the Ninth Line dorm, I began to climb the stairs.Holy Mother of the Great North, my thighs...I hadn’t even been working my thighs in battle training, but they hurt with every single movement as I climbed the ancient stone steps.

By the Seventh Line dorm, I wanted to puke, but I kept pushing until I reached the atrium landing. My knees were shaking so badly, I almost collapsed on the slate flagstones. Dragging myself out the doors, I noted how quiet Boellium was at night. The solid stone building insulated any noise from permeating the quietness of the atrium. Or maybe it was magic.

Magic wasn’t something the Lower Six Lines had much experience in. The First Line had more magic in their little fingers than the rest of the rest of us combined. The unfairness of the whole thing burned at times. Magic could have changed the lives of all of us.

The Eleventh and Twelfth Lines wouldn’t have to starve if they had the same elemental magic that several of the Upper Six Lines had. They could bring on the rains, or promote the growth of their crops. They wouldn’t have had to watch their children wither and die from lack of food and fresh water.

The night animals made a quiet soundtrack to the witching hour as I crossed the cobblestone courtyard to the mess hall. Not another soul stirred, which suited me just fine. While I might be slowly adjusting to the sheer amount of people housed in the college, I still found the quiet stillness of being by myself a physical balm to my soul.

Surprisingly, the mess hall was unlocked, though the door creaked so loudly, fear ran up my spine. I stilled, waiting for the sound of footsteps, or for someone to magically appear and send me back to my room, or kick me out or something, but no one came.

I stepped into the hall and walked softly across the heavy floorboards. The scent of dinner still permeated the room, making my stomach growl nearly as loudly as the door. First, I went and looked at the section that held snacks, but it had been completely raided. There were two nut squares left, and I pocketed those, but my churning stomach told me that probably wouldn’t be enough.

Slipping behind the large trestle tables that held the dishes at mealtimes, I walked down a short hall and a set of stairs to the kitchens. A large fire was burning, kept burning by magic and not by a hearth boy.

My Keep had one of those, a little orphan who tended the fire during the night. Cerri was small for his age due to malnutrition, and had been found wandering through the town when he was little more than five. The Keep had taken him in, and now he was a constant in the Keep’s kitchens, being fed up by the cooks and doted on by the maids. He was a sweetheart, but everyone in the North had a job, no matter how young or old.

My job was to be a sacrificial tribute.

Pushing the negative thoughts away, I went to the cool locker, again spelled by magic. I pulled out a huge hock of smoked ham, and my mouth watered. Finding some slabs ofbread, I was well on my way to making myself a sandwich that I’d have dreams about forever when a throat cleared behind me.

Dropping the knife with a clatter on the countertop, I spun toward the noise, my spine jamming ramrod straight when I came face to face with the Heir to the First Line for the second time that day.

Although he wouldn’t become the ruler, every direct descendant of a Line Baron was called an Heir, and could be called up to lead if something happened. Technically, even I was an Heir, but my father would rather rule as a corpse than let me become Baron of the Ninth Line.

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