Tyrant

(𝟾) 𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Days had passed, and everything was still the same.

Raeyan had refused to let me conform to my assigned duty of retrieving food, her decision based upon my lack of self-defense mechanisms and proper training.

Something Darcio had completely failed to mention.

Who would bother attacking a dirty, law-abiding commoner with nothing except the clothes on her back? With my white dress and hair, I'd look like any other female roaming The City—lost and hopeless.

I stare upwards, hands tucked behind my head, and stare into darkness of the subterranean bedroom I share with two other girls, Zehra and Arcane.

There are numerous rooms lining the long hallway outside our door, each chamber large enough to accommodate three or four sleeping cots. 

I lay on the middle cot, between Zehra and Arcane, who are surprisingly gentle girls. Polar opposites of the red lion I'd encountered days ago.

Zehra, her stunning chocolate skin contrasting her white eyes, boasts long, silky hair. She bears the Position of Healer, and tends to the sick or injured in the Emergency Treatment room—door four, as Darcio had stated.

Arcane was just as beautiful as Zehra, her snowy skin radiating silent maturity. Like Zehra, Acrane's hair is long and layered, resembling a white waterfall.

The position of Sympathizer suits her—persuasion and calm conversation seem to be her strong suit.

I had been shocked that Sympathizers left the Base to persuade others to join our cause.

Soft breathing on either side of me indicates deep slumber, which I wouldn't seem to be blessed with tonight.

I had visited Astrid in the Mainframe room days ago—the room is huge, numerous long tables cradling computer screens nearly as large as doors. I had asked Astrid how computers are even possible; electricity towers are rare to come across, causing electricity to be a rare commodity.

There are only three in The City.

She merely stated that Raeyan has her ways, as Darcio had recited to me, and handed me the hideous white dress I was supposed to wear for my Retrieving duties. 

Raeyan had snatched the dress from my hands minutes later as I exited the Mainframe Room, her features set in an enraged snarl.

Who the hell assigned you to Retriever? She'd growled like a tiger, staring me down. You're not ready. You've been here less than a week. We don't need you to endanger our cause by going out unprepared.

Her words still send a dagger of incredulity through me. As though I were the one who chose that Position and dreamed of endangering her Base.

A passing thought decides to halt and make itself known—

At least you are safe here.

I roll over onto my right side, the cot shifting with me, and close my eyes. Memories and events cascade through me like a swift, silent stream.

The Third in Command, his arrogance and weird soft side unbearable, had assigned me a Position without checking with Raeyan. And he'd seemed so sure of himself.

Does Raeyan view me as a newborn child with noodles for arms and toothpicks for legs? I'm capable of defending myself if need be. I've fended for myself for fifteen years, trekking from one groups of citizens to the next.

My lashes unfasten, thoughts of slumber far from my mind.

When was the last time I'd felt safe at night? Comfort aside, it felt nice to have a bed to call my own.