SEVENTY-ONE CANDIDATES fell from the parapet, as indicated by the official records. However, I have no idea what the previous year's statistics were, so I have no clue whether it was noteworthy or not.
An hour later, the quadrant gathers in a disciplined formation, with three columns on each wing. The roll keeper proceeds to call out names, methodically dividing the first-year candidates into squads.
As I glance around, I realize that our squad is almost complete, yet there is no sign of Sloane. I had lost her amidst the chaos of the division process. Although, I had managed to find the female called Rhiannon (who I found out was my squad leader) as she made sure I ended up in Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing which I was eternally grateful for.
There are eight of us, the new recruits, anxiously shifting our weight, each person embodying the essence of fear itself. Aaric Graycastle and I ended up in the same squad and he is clearly ignoring me.
What the hell is his problem?
He didn't even spare a glance at me when I made my way to the squad after my name was called. The complete opposite demeanor to the flirty male who had made me flush at the mere existence of him holding me. I sneak a glance over at him to find his muscular body in an impossibly perfect posture. He is standing in the row infront of me, head down, next to a red-haired girl whose complexion is full on green.
A palpable tension hangs in the air, evident in the drops of sweat trickling down the nape of my neck and in the nervous biting of nails by the brunette beside me. It seems to seep from our every pore, consuming us.
A small second-year, with her hair in two distinct shades, keeps fixating her gaze on our group. Her eyes darting from one person to another, but she seems particularly curious about me. Then again, since my arrival at the start of the Parapet, I had been subjected to countless stares. Not only because of my last name - my father had been the leader of the rebellion, but also due to the scene I had caused on the Parapet by saving Sloane, which hadn't helped my case in the slightest.
I'm snapped out of my daze when I hear that Sloane is called to First Wing.
I sigh in disappointment. After I saved her on the parapet I had hoped we'd be in the same wing at least. She was the first friend I had made here.
The wingleader I met before crossing the parapet who had been a real ass by calling me raspberry girl steps forward on the dais to talk to a female who I assume to be the senior wingleader. The daggers she has strapped to her upper arms glimmer in the sunlight as she nods her head in response. He crosses over to the roll-keeper at the edge of the dais and she pauses, lifting her pen to scribble something on the roll.
