Defy (4 page)

training to keep my expression passive, to keep control over the

panic racing through me when I got close enough to make out

their faces, to see the terror in the girls’ eyes. I counted eight boys and twelve girls. The youngest girl looked no older than five. She

gripped an older boy’s hand tightly, her face ghostly pale in the

meager light of the crescent moon hanging above us.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it
, I commanded myself, swallowing the thick lump in my throat and clenching my teeth

together.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” one of the king’s

guard asked when we were only a few feet away.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come to help,” another sneered. “The

prince’s guards aren’t man enough for this type of work.”

A trickle of sweat ran between my breasts, sliding down my

belly. I reached down and grasped the hilt of my sword. For some

reason, it helped calm me down. “Do you want help or not?” I

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asked. “Because we’ll leave if you’re going to be pigs about it.” I

was grateful when my voice came out biting and hard. My stomach

churned and my heart pounded as I forced myself to stare at the

guard, refusing to look at the orphans.

“We’ll take the help,” the first guard replied grudgingly. He

began to shout orders, telling the other three men to separate the

boys from the girls. “You two can help me escort the girls to their

new home,” he said to us with a nod of his chin toward the breed-

ing house. “You three” — he lifted his voice at the other guards as

they worked on getting the boys and girls into separate lines —

“take the boys to the barracks, get them assigned to separate

battalions.”

I watched helplessly as the girls followed the guards’ nudges

and shouts, most of their faces resigned. This could have been me,

forced into a life of rape, attempting to breed as many new soldiers

for the king’s army as possible before my body gave out.

“Breathe,” Marcel murmured from next to me.

I realized that I was gripping my sword so tightly that my

knuckles were white, and my chest was heaving. I had to get myself

under control. There was nothing I could do to stop this — there

was nothing I could do to keep these girls from their fate. No mat-

ter how badly I wished I could.

When the guards reached the littlest girl and her brother, the

brother wouldn’t release her hand.

“You can’t take her,” he said, stepping in front of her. He

couldn’t have been more than ten.

“Step away, boy.” The guard’s voice was hard.

“No. You can’t have her!” he repeated more vehemently, turn-

ing and wrapping his arms around the little girl, whose whole

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body shook violently as tears ran silently down her face. She clung

to her brother, her small fingers clutched in his tunic.

“You take the girl, I’ve got the boy,” the guard said, gesturing

to one of his companions.

The first man grabbed the girl’s arms and pulled, while the

second guard took the boy, yanking him away from his sister. She

screamed, a desperate sob, reaching, grasping for her brother as

they were torn apart by the guards.

“
Kalen!
No! Leave her alone!” The boy shouted and thrashed,

but it was no use.

I hadn’t even realized I’d started to move forward until Marcel

grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. My chest was on fire, my

whole body thrummed with horror, with fury.

“Come on, let’s get these girls out of here before they draw

too much attention to themselves. We don’t want to disturb the

king,” the guard in charge said, marching forward to the first girl

in line. “You two take the rear, and keep an eye on that one; she

tried to escape once already.” He pointed at a tall girl in the middle of the line, who glared back defiantly.

The other guards herded the boys in the opposite direction,

leaving us alone with the girls.

“Follow me,” the guard shouted at the frightened line of girls,

“and don’t even think about trying to run away. You’ll be shot down

before you make it ten feet.” With one last look, he turned on his

heel and began to march across the grounds to the breeding house.

The girls hesitantly followed, even Kalen, who was still sobbing qui-

etly. An older girl held her hand now and was speaking softly to her.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to Marcel, my breath coming

in spurts.

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“We have to,” he said, meeting my panicked gaze with a bleak

one of his own. “I’ll go first. You follow me.”

He turned and marched across the grounds behind the row of

girls. I made myself follow, and forced my mind to go blank. I

concentrated on staring up at the building in front of us instead of

the row of girls, until the guard in front stopped and pounded on

a wooden door.

A few moments later, it swung open to reveal an older man

with thinning hair and small, watery eyes. “Brought me some

new girls, eh? We’re almost full, until they finish building the new

addition, but I’ve got a few rooms open. Doesn’t hurt to make ’em

share, either.” His jowls were ruddy, and a sheen of sweat glistened

on his fat upper lip.

“That’s fine, Horace,” the guard said.

Horace opened the door wider and gestured for the girls to go

in. “Come on, then. I haven’t got all night. There’s still work to be done.” He winked at the guard and I had to swallow the bile that

rose in my throat.

The guard went in first and the girls slowly followed. Some of

them walked in tall and proud, others went in with their shoulders

trembling. When Kalen entered, still holding the other girl’s hand,

Horace whistled. “My, aren’t you a pretty young thing? Don’t

worry, you can stay with your friend for a while. You’re no good to

us yet. Not for a few years anyway.” He chuckled.

My hands clenched into fists at my side, but Marcel threw me

a warning glance over his shoulder, as if he could read my thoughts.

Or maybe he was having the same ones but knew we were helpless

to stop this. It was the king’s orders and no one could defy them,

least of all Marcel and me.

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When the last girl had filed through the door, into the dim

interior of the breeding house, Horace shouted, “Marie, we got

new ones again. Get down here and help me find ’em rooms!”

I stood a little bit behind Marcel on the threshold, hoping our

part was done. I had to breathe shallowly to keep from wincing at

the smell that wafted out of the entryway, a mixture of sweat and

fear and something else foul.

The guard noticed when I started to back away and motioned

at us. “Get in here and help me make sure they all get locked up in

a room. Then you can go.”

The small foyer was lit by a couple of oil lamps, sitting on

two small tables on either side of the doorway. The unsteady

light revealed a run-down interior, with dust gathered in the

corners and on the tables. Grime coated the stones beneath our

boots. The girls were lined up along a wall to the left of the

door, and straight in front of us was a narrow staircase. A pain-

fully thin girl who looked like she was my age slowly made her

way down the steps, cupping the swollen mass of her pregnant

belly with one hand and holding a lantern in her other. Her cheeks

were sunken, making her already large eyes appear huge in her

gaunt face.

“Ah, there you are, Marie,” Horace said, motioning for her to

come all the way down. “Help me get these new ones situated, will

you? I’ve got to hurry and get back upstairs.” A look of hunger

crossed his sweaty face.

“We’ve only got four rooms left, if you include the attic,”

Marie said, her voice chillingly empty.

Horace looked over the row of girls. “How many of you have

already started your monthly bleedings?”

21

I f linched at the awful question, but slowly five girls raised

their hands.

“Not you, eh? You can’t fool me, you know.” Horace stepped

in front of one girl who obviously had firm, rounded breasts

beneath her tunic but who hadn’t raised her hand. “It’ll be worse

for you if you try to hide it from me. We’ll have to make up for lost time, my men and me.” He leered at the girl and she began to visibly shake, her eyes filling with tears.

Slowly, she lifted her hand, and Horace grinned, revealing

stained, uneven teeth.

“Take all the girls who are too young up to share the attic. Put

the rest in the other rooms.”

A door opened down the hallway and another man walked

out, buttoning up his pants. Before the door shut behind him, I

caught a glimpse of a girl lying motionless on an unmade bed, her

head turned toward a small window above her where a sliver of the

moon was just barely visible in the dark sky.

I took a step back and bumped into the door behind me. My

hands shook and my heart pounded. I couldn’t stay here one min-

ute longer. Not without killing Horace or the man striding toward

us, still tucking his tunic back into his pants after doing his “work.”

I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.

“Where does he think he’s going?” I heard someone ask, but

then I was running, tripping, f leeing from that place. From the

disgust and horror and fury that had almost made me do some-

thing that would have ended my own life.

“Marcel!” I heard my twin call after me but I didn’t turn back,

not even for him. Not even to see why he’d yelled his own name at

me, instead of mine. I ran and ran, all the way across the grounds,

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through the palace, dodging servants and furniture, up the stairs,

and to my room. When the door was finally shut behind me, I slid

to the ground, buried my head in my arms, and sobbed.

Marcel came into our room about twenty minutes later, when I’d

finally regained control of myself. But before he could cross the

room to me, a king’s guard opened the door after him. I turned

away, trying to hide my tear-stained face.

“Marcel?” he barked out.

“Yes,” my twin responded.

“You will come with me,” the guard said.

Before I had a chance to ask what was going on, Marcel had

rushed out after the guard, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I stared at the door in concern.

He didn’t return to our room for over an hour. While I waited,

I realized how stupid I’d been. How much trouble I had probably

gotten us into. I’d run away from my duty — disobeyed a superior.

I had never made such a big mistake before. I’d always been able to

maintain control. To keep calm — stoic, even — no matter what.

But the breeding house had been too much —
Horace
had been

too much. I still wanted nothing more than to take my sword and

embed it in his fat gut.

When Marcel finally came in, looking haggard, I was standing

by the fire, my arms wrapped around my body, holding myself

together.

“Marcel — I’m so sorry,” I began but he shook his head and

walked very slowly over to his bed.

“You don’t need to apologize. I wanted to run away, too. I’m

sure it was worse for you.”

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I sat down next to him on the bed and he took one of my

hands in his, gripping it tightly. I stared down at our intertwined

fingers, grateful that at least when I was alone with my twin in our

room, I could be myself. That I could admit my weakness, my fear.

“How much trouble did I get us into?”

“None. I took care of it.” He sighed and grimaced suddenly.

“They weren’t mad?”

“Oh no, they were mad. But I told you, I took care of it.”

“Marcel, what did you do?” I asked quietly, fearing that I

already knew.

He tried to turn away from me, but winced suddenly. That’s

when I noticed the blood seeping through the back of his tunic.

“
Marcel
—
no!
You took my punishment!”

He didn’t deny it and my heart constricted.

“What did they do?”

“Ten lashes,” he muttered, his voice tight with pain.

My eyes burned with tears as I gently helped him out of his

ruined tunic and tried not to gasp when I saw the crisscrossing

lines on his once-smooth back. “You shouldn’t have done this,” I

whispered. “It was my mistake. I deserved to be punished.”

“And be exposed as a girl? They don’t whip you with your

shirt on, you know.” He turned to face me, his face contorted with

pain, but his eyes were tender when he met my ashamed gaze.

“The king’s guards don’t know us well enough to tell us apart. I

had to take your place. I had to protect you.”

I shook my head, unable to say anything.

He took my hand again and squeezed it. “I’m glad it was me

and not you. Now help me get bandaged up and let’s get to bed.

It’s been a long night.”

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I was quiet as I did what he asked, cleaning the wounds, then

winding the extra bandages I kept to bind my breasts carefully

around his torso. When it was done and I’d helped him pull on a

clean tunic, I finally said, “I can’t believe you thought so quickly

to call out your own name.”

He shrugged, then winced in pain. “You might be the better