Reckoning (8 page)

‘Don't move,' I whisper as I turn. I try to release his hand but his fingers are clasping at mine before he finally lets me go.

Rush is standing with more fruit in his hands ready to throw. When he realises he has my attention, he grins and puts the food down. ‘You may as well be Troggy filth like him if you're going to spend all your time over there,' he says, taking another moment to look me up and down.

At first I couldn't figure it out but now I understand why he wants my attention. He thinks the gorgeous flowing dress is who I am; that I'm a naive child from the middle of nowhere and this is how I live. I struggle not to smile as he stands cockily. Pietra is at his side, staring at me.

‘His name is Wray,' I say again. ‘My name is Silver. We've not done anything to you so why won't you leave us alone?'

Rush's eyes narrow. ‘Because I'm an Elite and he's a Trog. I'll do what I want.'

I nod gently as a smile spreads across his face. He thinks I am accepting that he can do what he wants, when really there is only one solution.

I stride towards Rush, who doesn't move until I am within a metre or two. He glances sideways at Pietra, suddenly nervous, as if to ask what's going on. By the time he fixes his attention back on me, it is too late. The dress and the hair are all well and good but the real me is the one who has grown up fighting and wrestling with Opie.

Rush doesn't know what's happening as I duck sideways and then hammer my elbow up under his ribs. With Opie, I would do this playfully and gently but now I do it as hard as I can. He doubles over automatically but I don't give him a second, thudding the side of my hand into his windpipe as he lurches forward. I wince in pain but it's nothing compared to what he feels. He doesn't know if he should be crumbling forwards or backwards as he struggles to find his balance, thrusting his hands out and trying to grab me. If it was Opie, we would be rolling in the dirt by now, laughing and joking, but this is different. Pietra has cowered away, as I thought she would. I step to the side and smash my fist as hard as I can into Rush's ear, once and then twice. Everything has happened in a matter of seconds and he falls to the ground, cradling the various body parts he won't be using any time soon.

I step away and watch him rolling on the floor. Aside from his groans, there is silence around the cabin. I look down at my unmarked, uncreased dress and think of how Opie would probably be grinning at me right now in that lopsided way of his.

Without a word, I cross to the other side of the carriage and sit next to Wray, taking his hand in mine. He is still shaking but it is in disbelief, not fear.

‘You did that for me?' he whispers, stumbling over his words.

I don't reply, gripping his hand reassuringly tighter and watching as Rush slowly gets back to his feet.

9

The rest of the train journey is unsurprisingly quiet. None of the Kingsmen bother to check on us, although the doors and windows are all sealed, so it's not as if they have any need. Rush brushes away any offers of sympathy or help, refusing to do anything other than skulk to a corner and act as if none of it happened. I try to feel bad about everything – it's not often I've hurt anyone on purpose – but then I remember the way poor Wray was shaking with fear.

Wray doesn't talk quite as much through the rest of the journey and I wonder if perhaps he is a little scared of me too. Certainly none of the others bother to approach us.

Now we are travelling south, I feel my first real moment of excitement as the train begins to slow. We have all heard of Middle England, and seen it on our screens and thinkpads, but none of us will have ever visited here. I push myself against the window and stare upwards, trying to peer around an impossible angle to take in the enormity of it all. I can see two towering glass buildings soaring above us and turn to see another pair on the opposite side. All of us, including Rush, are pressed against the windows in awe, trying to take in what is around us.

Middle England is a crossroads where our four Realms meet. Each Realm has a tower which serves as a trading and political hub. The people working there are in charge of bartering with each other and allocating our rations, not that I have ever known anyone visit Martindale. Sometimes, if something serious is happening, the screens will show us pictures from Middle England but the images are nothing compared to the sheer majesty of the place. As well as the four towers, there are other smaller but equally impressive buildings. People hurry between them, looking identical in dark suits.

As we edge slowly through the junction, I try to predict the exact point which means I am at the cross section of the Realms; where I am either in all four at the same time, or none at all, depending on which way you look at it.

When we accelerate away, I realise I have left the North for the first time ever. I exchange a look with Wray as we sense this is actually happening. I assume we are now in the South but there are no announcements. As the train continues, the scenery is much the same as it is in the North, although there do seem to be more places that have been rebuilt.

It doesn't feel like long before the carriage doors slide open and one of the Kingsmen enters, telling us we should arrive at Windsor Castle within half an hour. As he turns to leave, he glances at the marks on Rush's face. Although I didn't hit him there, he must have landed awkwardly because one of his eyes has already blackened.

‘Is everything all right here?' he asks, peering around the cabin, but Rush nods and doesn't elaborate.

The man's eyes are narrow and he looks at us all, wondering if there is something he has missed, but doesn't add anything before leaving the room.

After a while, the train slows again and we drop into a tunnel that continues for a few miles until we stop completely. Our carriage is well lit but it is difficult to see anything outside. I press my face against the glass again and think I can make out another train next to us. The atmosphere is more apprehensive and I can feel the nervous energy humming between us.

There are voices nearby but we all stay sitting as the noise of the train dies. The lights flicker and then go out completely. I feel Wray fidgeting next to me and a shuffling of movement in the carriage. I wonder if Rush will use this moment to get his revenge and grasp around for Wray. I take his hand more for my own comfort than his, before the lights sputter back to life. I glance around the room but Rush is still in the same seat he was before, meeting my eyes for a moment and then looking away.

The door swishes open and someone, who I first assume to be a Kingsman, strides in. It is only when I take a second glance that I realise the man in front of me is the Minister Prime. Everything I have seen of him on screen is nothing compared to the way he looks in real life. He towers over everyone and even if Opie was here, he would barely reach the man's shoulders. From where I am sitting, my eyes are level with his thighs, which seem broader than my waist. He is wearing thick dark gloves, his hands as big as the plates we eat from at home and, although his uniform is nearly the same as a regular Kingsman's, it seems lighter and sleeker, almost absorbing the overhead light, instead of reflecting it. His eyes skim quickly around the cabin, taking us all in briefly before he rocks back onto his heels.

‘You will all now be shown to your quarters,' he says. His voice is deep and brimming with authority as he points to the side I am sitting on, and then indicates the other side. ‘Girls with her, boys over there. This evening there will be a banquet where you will be formally introduced to the King as his Offerings.'

After another glimpse around, he turns and thunders back out of the carriage, his boots echoing loudly. As he leaves, the other girls hover around me, as Wray nervously crosses to the other side. He catches my eye and I give him a gentle nod to let him know I will see him later. Two Kingsmen enter and, without speaking, one of them flashes a hand in our direction, telling us to follow him. I am at the front as the two Elite girls fall in line behind me. I make one final glance towards Wray, who is at the back of the five boys, as we exit the carriage and step onto a stone platform.

The Kingsman's pace is quick and I feel slightly restricted in the dress, although not as much as the female Elite whose sparkling silver gown is even tighter and more elaborate than mine. Jela is almost running to keep pace. Pietra doesn't speak but I can hear her footsteps behind me.

The train must have stopped under the castle as we are led up a winding set of stone steps and I feel the temperature rising. The stairs open onto a corridor lit by rows of what I first think are candles, before I realise they have small flame-shaped light bulbs on top of white stems. The Kingsman doesn't stop, turning left out of the passage, but I pause to look in both directions. The walls are grey and made of solid-looking thick stone and there is a deep red carpet on the floor. The candle lights stretch as far into the distance, leaving me to wonder how much power they have here compared to Martindale. I catch up with the Kingsman before he can turn to look for us. I try to remember the route back to the top of the stairway, but quickly lose track of the tight twists and turns. In the top corners of many of the corridors and stairways are small cameras attached to the ceiling with blinking lights underneath. Some of them swivel to follow our route, adding to my unease.

Eventually, the Kingsman pushes through a heavy wooden door and leads us into a large room where the luxury is unlike anything I have ever encountered. The carpet is thick and bouncy and there are beds twice the width of mine at home placed around the edge. We step inside as the door bangs loudly closed behind us. Four girls are already in the room and one of them tells us they are from the South. I stand in the centre, wondering if any of the beds have been assigned. Pietra and Jela are already sitting on beds next to each other, close to the others. Something about the way the door closed didn't sound right, so I try the handle but it is instantly clear we are locked in. The room is lit by a row of windows, but these are also locked, the glass rippled in a way that makes it impossible to see through.

I choose the bed furthest away, lying on it and staring at the ceiling as I enjoy the way it supports my body. At home, I know every inch of my bed, the uncomfortable ridges and the springs that have long since broken. I wonder if I will be able to sleep with this new-found comfort. Next to each bed is a tall, thin wardrobe. Inside are a handful of dresses as well as white jumpsuits and boots, none of which I would choose to wear at home.

I listen to the girls talking and realise I have never really spent much time with other females through my life. Aside from my mother, I have been surrounded by boys. Even on the train, I felt drawn to Wray as opposed to the females. The other six girls are chatting excitedly about their journeys and how they felt about being chosen.

I am already the outsider.

I check my thinkwatch but, as I guessed would happen, the communication function isn't working. Usually, I would be able to send messages to my mother, Colt, Opie, or anyone else if I knew their ID. Here, the signal is dead.

Throughout the afternoon, girls from the other Realms arrive until there are fifteen of us dotted around. The female Trog from the south, who seems to be called Faith, has taken the bed in the opposite corner to me, although no one seems to be picking on her in the way Rush tried to target Wray. For the most part, I keep to myself, not knowing how to make the small-talk which seems to come so easily to others. I feel as if my mind is already a step ahead of where the others are. For them, this is exciting; the extravagance of our room is something to be enjoyed. I think of the cameras, the locked door and the windows we can't see out of and cannot open.

The voices are silenced as a woman opens our door and tells us it is time to go to the banquet. She is wearing a flowing green gown that stretches to the floor. I don't recognise her and she doesn't introduce herself. I choose to stay in the dress I already had on, although some of the girls have changed into something fancier from the wardrobes.

We file out behind the woman in green but I deliberately make sure I am at the back. The maze-like corridors across a selection of floors make it impossible to track our route. As I find myself wondering if the layout is deliberate, I also worry that I have already become paranoid. It is hard to feel differently as cameras continue to turn as we do.

Despite all this, I feel awestruck as we are led through wide, thick wooden doors into a hall. The first thing I notice is the massive high ceiling, which is unlike anything I have ever seen. It is painted with images of various animals, of which I recognise only a few, but the bright colours are exquisite and the detail amazing. Banked rows of seats flank the room and we are directed to a rectangular area in the centre. I look up to see various people in the chairs staring down upon us and it is hard not to be intimidated. I am not used to being the centre of attention. A line of boys enter from a door on the other side and I spy Wray at the back, staring up high towards the people above us. In the middle of the area is a long wooden table, with benches running alongside it. One by one we sit, girls on one side, boys on the other, with Wray opposite me. I catch his eye and wink, which he returns with a smile.

Above us, the Minister Prime is sitting in a box, with more cameras above him pointing towards us. He looks at us unmoving as other voices chatter on. I watch him closely as he slowly stands, then holds his arm out to the side, demanding silence with an authority nobody dares challenge. Instantly the room is quiet before he raises his arms. Everyone stands in the seats above us and we follow the unspoken command. Underneath the box, trumpeters wearing red and white uniforms raise their instruments to their mouths and launch into the national anthem.

I have never been that patriotic but still feel a tingle shoot down my spine as the doors next to the Minister Prime are opened by two Kingsmen, revealing the King standing at the back of the box in a flowing cherry gown. To see him on screen and on the various posters that are put up around Martindale is one thing, but there is something about witnessing him in person which is hard to describe. His hair is as bright as on screen, his frame just as imposing, but in person there is something more. He has an aura around him, making you feel drawn to his presence. I've always thought Opie had something similar, although much of that was because of his height. This is something different and, perhaps for the first time in my life, I can see why he was able to end a war that we have always been told could have destroyed us all.