The Warrior [The Selection]

Chapter Five: Gifts and Favours.

The week that followed was one of the worst in my life.

Officials whizzed in and out of the orphanage, interviewing me and my family, explaining the rules to me, setting travel plans, assessing me. Doctors looked me over, as did designers.

All of them came in with wrinkled noses and sneering mouths. The officials hated me, the doctors seemed concerned for my health, the designers scoffed outright.

I endured it all with a pissy attitude and a glare for whoever was in front of me. The only reason I didn't throw a punch was because Elizabeth loomed over my shoulder throughout it all.

The officials revealed that I didn't have to go back to work in the coal mines, but I returned anyway on the Tuesday to say goodbye to all the workers. The friends I'd made there over the years were beside themselves with amusement, and told me to enjoy myself as best I could with all those snotty bastards around.

The Pits had never seen so much of me. So much so that Tony (a hardened woman with a wicked face tattoo, the owner of the Pits) wouldn't let me fight more than three times a night. She gave me a glare on the Tuesday and pointed at my bruised eye, growling out; 'You finally got it good, girly, don't you ruin it.'

It didn't stop me going back on Wednesday, but she would only let me fight twice, and both with opponents that were seriously beneath me.

Elizabeth hit the roof when I trudged into the kitchen that evening, and banned me from going for the rest of the week.

But I ventured out anyway on Thursday, staying away from the Pits but wandering around Fames. Sticking to the abandoned streets was just asking for trouble, really.

The Crimson War lasted a full decade, and though there hadn't been any actual fighting in Dakota, the province had been bombed, like every other province in Illéa. After the war, there just wasn't enough money to rebuild everything. The poorest cities - such as our own - had been simply abandoned. Then the Riots happened, and Fames became even more rundown.

Half the city was abandoned, houses either empty or piles of rubble. No need for streetlamps either. It was a dangerous place; bodies found every other week, muggins and assaults happening often. You only ventured into the dark areas of Fames if you were looking for a fight, desperate, or up to no good.

Frankly, I was all three of those things.

I dared every flickering shadow, but none wanted to play, it seemed.

Two days and I would be off to the palace. Two days and I would belong to those I had hated since the day my mother had been taken from me.

But perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps I would be able to eat more, and read books, and there wouldn't be any working. Maybe it could be like a holiday. I would return as soon as the Prince figured out that there was no way I could be a Princess, and hell, he could figure that out by Sunday.

A crack from behind made me turn. Stood in the middle of the gloomy street, it was difficult to see into all the hiding places, especially since the houses were dark and you couldn't see into the black of the broken windows.

Shrugging, I turned again and started walking, my mind turning again to the Selection and wondering if the other girls would be nice.

A shuffle of feet, the rustle of clothing, and I was whirling around.

Empty. There was an empty street facing me, not even a whisper of a person.

I turned, frowning, wondering if the nerves had addled my brain, and started walking again, peering over my shoulder for pursuers.