The Seventh Crow

Part 1

"Wake up!" a Fjerda soldier yells outside my prison cell. Not that it did much. Trying to sleep in this place isn't the easiest thing. I'm lucky if I get two hours.

"I'm up!" I sass back at the soldier.

The soldier unlocks the door, violently picking me off my makeshift cot. He doesn't bother with binding my hands. Probably is thinking that I'm just a weak young woman who can't take on the strong soldier. We walk past the other inmates. The ones who are lucky and aren't used for the King or soldiers gain. The inmates grunt and groan from the lashings and beating they took the night before.

"Where are we going?" I ask the soldier.

"Tig!" He shoves my shoulder to get the point across.

I roll my eyes. You would think being in the King's favor the people around here would be a lot nicer. Who am I kidding? They could care less. I'm still a prisoner to them.

The soldier pulls me to a stop. Taking out his keys, he unlocks another cell door. A moment later Dem exists in bindings. She doesn't seem like she got very much sleep either. A curse or a blessing of something that I wouldn't know.

"Marden," I whispered to her. She nods her head but doesn't reply. Being Grisha doesn't help her cause. Yes the Fjerda soldiers can't kill me, at least not purposely, but a Grisha? No mercy on their part.

The soldier had to be new. I know most of the soldiers around this place, by face. I only know a handful of names. But him? Never seen a man with his red undertone hair before. Not in this sector, at least.

"Why can't you tell me where we are headed?" I ask again.

He ignores the question. I look over at Dem. Her black hair in knots from the blood. Some dry blood at the base of her ear and above her eyebrows. A feeling I know a little too well. 

I absolutely hate Fjerda. Every inch of my body has no love or respect for my nation. I used to love it once upon a time, but not after everything this nation has done to me and innocent lives. 

"Stop," the soldier said. I look in the cell next to me. The person inside doesn't seem to be moving. He might be dead and from the looks of it might've been for a couple hours. It's sad to know that no one is going to mourn him or miss him.

Three Fjerda soldiers walk past us. I keep my eyes low. Don't give them a reason to act barbaric.

The soldier's exchange pleasantries before we get hauled off. Didn't take long to realize that we were headed towards the stables. The idea of stealing a horse creeps up in my mind. But it's quickly stomped out when I realize there aren't any horses in the stables.

"You have three hours to clean the stables before the horses come back," the soldier says. "I'll be watching, so don't think like you can pull a fast one."

He pushes us forward and turns to stand watch. I look at Dem's bindings. There is no way we both can get the stables clean in three hours. Not with one person with complete control of her limbs.

"Can you unlock her chains?" I ask. The soldier doesn't turn around. Anger rises in me, but I push it down. This isn't the time to get vexed. "We can't clean this place without her chains off."

"Nox, it's okay. Let's get as much as we can done. Maybe he will come around."

I knew he wasn't going to, but no point in fighting with a brick wall. I nod my head and get to work.

My mind wanders to anything other than the bitterness I feel. The small memories of the time that I still loved Fjerda. 

"Don't let them get to you," my father speaks. A cup of warm coffee in his hands. Mom mulling around cooking dinner. My brother plays with a wooden dog while another one sits next to him. "They are just trying to get you to react. Don't give them power over you."

He brushes away the tears from my cheeks. A smile forming on my lips. My father's blue eyes holding all the secrets of life.

"Now," he said, "go play with your brother."

My brother moves over to give me space to sit down. He hands me an extra wooden dog. My mother enjoys the moments of peace as we pretend to enjoy the other company.

"Get a move on!" the Fjerda soldier yells, breaking my concentration.
Dem was having a difficult time putting away some of the saddles. I finished putting new hay in a stall before helping her. The soldier shouldn't mind since he won't help and unchain her.

"You know why he won't," Dem said, as if she could read my mind. "Grisha can't Summon with bound hands."

"Well, I'm sure if you could we'd be out of here by now."

Dem laughs at this. I tried to laugh, but I couldn’t. Almost two years in this prison takes all humor from your life. Knocks out any sort of hope or peace. You're never safe here.

"How did you get caught?" I asked.

"Drüskelle hunted down a group. I just happened to be with them." A sad look flickers across her face. I couldn't begin to think what she must be feeling. The Drüskelle are a sick group.

"Wish I could say something to tell you it'd be okay. But we both know that would be a lie."

"It's alright. I made my bed with my fate. Question is, have you?"

I look down. Of course I haven't. I don't want to give these Fjerdan asses the amusement of killing me. I have reasons to live, even if I will never see the light of them. Breathe the air of freedom and escape somewhere to hide from my nightmares.

"Time to go," the soldier said, reaching for us. I step to the side as his hand almost lands on my shoulder. He hits me across the face with the butt of his rifle. "You know the rules, witch lover!"

I nurse my cheek. Ignoring the pain that shoots through my body each time I touch it. Just another bruise, nothing too bad.

The soldier grabs my hands and chains me up. I should’ve known that was coming. Always listen to the soldiers. That's how you survive longer.

By the time I get back into my cell, my body is screaming for sleep and rest. My mind fights back. If I close my eyes I'll remember everything that I don't want too. All those nightmares. The lost loved ones haunting my dreams.

"Ajor," a whisper echoes around my head. I turn around. Those bright forest green eyes stare into the cell. Darting down the hall every once in a while.

"Alev?" I walk up to the barred window. The dim lighting hitting his face. A shadow on his neck. "You shouldn't be here. If they catch you-"

"They aren't going to. How many times have we met like this and I haven't been caught?"

"Doesn't mean you should keep doing it. You know you're not supposed to talk to the prisoners."

Alev lets out a low laugh. His laugh. The only thing in this place that is actually enjoyable. The thing that can make me smile even through all the pain.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Besides, if there was a problem, I'd just act like I'm telling you off."
I roll my eyes. "Cause that'd be better?"

"I should get going anyway. I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"You mean not shot or beat to a crisp?" He cringes at the thought. Not the best thing to say to someone who cares about you. "Sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong." He looks down the hall. I try to get a better look but all I see is the cement wall. Alev takes a step away from the bars.

He doesn't say goodbye before he walks away. Someone probably turned down the hallway and saw him. Can't exactly tell an inmate goodbye and that you'd see her when he has a spare minute. No matter how much the inmate wants it.

I walk over to my cot. Staring up at the ceiling. The groans from other cells echo into my ears. Half the people deserved to be in here, but others? They are in here for being born. Something they have no control over and are sentenced to death because of it.