LITMIR.BIZ

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than dwelling on my life as a laboratory rat. With no family or friends outside the manor to hide me, though, the southern lands were my best option, assuming I could penetrate the well guarded border.

      I had created elaborate fantasies of stealing away to Sitia, finding an adoptive family and falling in love. Corny, sentimental rubbish, but it was my only elixir. Every day when the experiments began, my mind would focus on Sitia, finding bright colors, loving gestures and warmth. Holding those images in my mind, I endured Reyad’s tests.

      But even if I had been given the opportunity to escape, I don’t know if I would have seized it. Although I remembered nothing of my birth family, I did have a family living within the manor house. The other lost children who had been taken in. My sisters. My brothers. My children. I learned with them, I played with them and I took care of them. How could I abandon them? To think of May or Carra taking my place was too much to bear.

      I bit on my finger until I tasted blood, and dragged my thoughts back to the present. I had escaped from Brazell. He would leave the castle in two weeks and return home, probably to the next round of experiments with a different laboratory rat. My heart went out to her, whoever she was. Brazell was brutal. She was in for a rough time. But I had saved her from Reyad.

      Pulling my hand away from my mouth, I inspected the bite mark. Not too deep, it wouldn’t scar. I traced the network of semicircular scars that covered my fingers and knuckles. When I looked up, I caught Valek staring at my hands. I laced them behind my back.

      The Commander raised his hand. Quiet descended in an instant. “Excellent points from both sides. We will put your theories to the test. Two teams.” Pointing to the two main debaters, the Commander said, “You’ll be the Captains. Assemble your team and organize a plan of attack. Recruit as needed. Valek will supply a fugitive from one of his men. You have a fortnight to prepare.”

      The noise level rose as the Commander headed toward his office with Valek and I close behind.

      Valek shut the office door, muffling the commotion. “Is Marrok’s escape to Sitia still bothering you?” he asked.

      The Commander frowned. “Yes. Sloppy work, that pursuit. Marrok must have known you were in MD–8. You really need to train a couple of protégés.”

      Valek looked at him in mock horror. “But then I wouldn’t be indispensable.”

      A quick smile graced the Commander’s face, before he spotted me lingering near the corner. “Well, Valek, you were right about this one. She survived your test.” Then to me, he said, “Come here.”

      My feet obeyed despite my hysterical heart.

      “As my official food taster, you’re to report to me with my breakfast. I’ll give you my daily itinerary and expect you to be present at each meal. I will not accept tardiness. Understand?”

      “Yes, Sir.”

      He glanced at Valek. “She looks fragile. Are you sure she’s strong enough?”

      “Yes, Sir.”

      The Commander appeared unconvinced. His golden eyes tracked from me to Valek as he contemplated. I hoped with desperation that he wasn’t looking for an excuse to fire me.

      “All right. Since I missed lunch, Valek, you will join me for an early dinner. Yelena, you start as my food taster tomorrow morning.”

      “Yes, Sir,” Valek and I said in unison. We were dismissed.

      We returned to Valek’s office to gather my extra uniforms and journal. Valek escorted me to his living quarters, located in the central part of the castle. As we traveled the main hallways, I noticed that the bright areas of stone on the wall outnumbered the darker zones. A vast array of paintings must have been taken down. We also passed several large, colorless rooms that had been redesigned as either offices or barracks.

      It occurred to me that the Commander’s functional style and stark standards had robbed the castle of its soul. All that remained was a dead stone building reassigned to purely utilitarian purposes.

      I was too young to remember what life was like before the takeover, but I had been taught in Brazell’s orphanage that the monarchy had been corrupt and its citizens unhappy. The takeover had been just that; to call it a war would be inaccurate. Most of the King’s soldiers had switched loyalty to the Commander. They had been disgusted with promotions based on bribery and blood ties instead of hard work and skill. Orders to kill people for minor infractions because a member of the elite was angry caused sour feelings among the men.

      Women had been recruited to the Commander’s cause, and they made excellent spies. Valek assassinated the key supporters of the King. When the King tried to raise an army to fight the Commander’s army, he had no defenders. The Commander captured the castle without a fight, and little blood was shed. Most of the nobility had been killed, but a few had escaped to Sitia.

      Valek and I arrived at a pair of massive wooden doors, guarded by two soldiers. Valek spoke with the guards, instructing them that I was to be allowed access as needed. We entered a short hallway with two doors on opposite sides. Valek unlocked the door on the right and explained to me that the other led to the Commander’s apartment.

      Valek’s living quarters turned out to be an expansive suite of rooms. Coming in from the gloomy hallway, I was struck by the brightness of the main, L-shaped living area. Windows as thin as a tiger’s stripes allowed sunlight to pour in.

      Piles of books occupied every corner and tabletop. Hand-size gray rocks, streaked with white, and multicolored crystals were scattered throughout.

      Small black statues of animals and flowers glinted with silver. The statues dotted the room. Delicate and intricately detailed, they were similar to the panthers on Valek’s office desk, and were the room’s only decoration.

      A considerable collection of weapons hung on the walls. Some of the weapons were old, dust-covered antiques that hadn’t been used in years, while others shined. One long, thin knife still had fresh blood on the blade. The crimson liquid gleamed in the sunlight, causing a chill to snake through my body. I wondered who had been on the wrong end of that blade.

      To the left of the entrance was a stairway, and three doors lined the right wall of the living area.

      Valek pointed to the first door on the right. “That room is yours until Brazell leaves the castle. I suggest you get some rest.” He picked up three books from an end table. “I’ll be back later. Don’t go out. I’ll bring you dinner.” Valek left, but then came back before the door shut. “Lock the door behind me. You should be safe here.”

      Safe, I thought, turning the bolt, was the last thing I could ever feel here. Anyone who knew how to pick a lock could sneak in, grab a weapon and have at me. I examined the swords on the wall, and sighed with some relief. The weapons were anchored securely. I tugged hard on a mace, just to be sure.

      The clutter surrounding my door was thicker than around the other two, and I discovered why when I entered. Clean, box-shaped areas were outlined by the thick dust that still coated the floor, bed, bureau and desk. The room had been used for storage. Instead of cleaning it, Margg must have just moved the boxes out and considered her job done.

      Margg’s minimal work was a not so subtle hint of her vast dislike for me. Perhaps it would be best to avoid her for a while.

      Inside the room, the bedding was filthy. A musty smell permeated. I sneezed. There was a small window, and after wrestling with the shutters, I managed to open it.

      The furniture was made of expensive ebony. Intricate carvings of leaves and vines curled down chair legs and across drawers. When I wiped the dust off the headboard, I uncovered a delicate garden scene with butterflies and flowers.

      After I stripped the bed of its dirty sheets and stretched out on the mattress, my impression of Margg as a harmless grump-with-a-grudge evaporated. At that moment I saw that a message had been written in the dust on the desk.

      It read, “Murderer. The noose waits.”

      9

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