Valkyrie Rising ✓

Chapter Four

Warning: Mentions of self harm

Neither of us speaks much as we change into our uniforms: black, skintight pants and loose, burgundy shirts. My roommate, Eveia, I presume, is taller than me, and her dark hair is pulled back into a short ponytail. Her large eyes are a deep brown, her face angular. She already has decent musculature; her lack of extra skin is apparent by the slight wrinkles of her pants. Mine are a bit too tight.

She catches me sizing her up and smiles arrogantly.

"Little snug, there, doll?" She jerks her head at the skin rounding over the top of my leggings.

I ignore her, remembering Milo's answer at Viry Prep. Beauty is soft, cushioned, warm. Still, I can feel a layer of strength beneath my skin; my conditioning will pay off, and I'll lose the softness soon enough.

I leave the room without responding; I can tell she's only trying to get a rise out of me. We'll see who really is tougher at our first training session.

The hallway is teeming with people. Each room spits out two recruits, and it is almost dinnertime, after all. I manage to lose Eveia in the fray, pushing ahead of three or four people to increase the distance.

There are even more bodies clogging the stairwell. I join the mass as it makes its way down past the lobby, past the cave entrance, deeper into the mountain's underground to the dining hall. It seems to be set up like a cafeteria, buffet-style. I join the end of a long, winding line near the door. The boy in front of me hands me a tray, and I recognize him.

"Rune?" He grew up in my neighborhood; he was Viry, too.

"Nadia? What are you doing here?" His voice doesn't reflect the same level of enthusiasm mine holds. "Shouldn't you be popping out Milo's beautiful children?" He turns his back to me.

I'm not surprised he's so bitter. Rune would have been a Level 3 Viry, more beautiful than me. His eyes are a light hazel, almost gold, and his blond hair is much lighter than mine, with hints of red. Eight years ago, he had been playing catch with his older brother, tossing an apple back and forth, when his brother threw too hard and hit Rune in the face. There was nothing the Viry could do to completely erase the knob in the bridge of his nose. He was only ten years old.

That accident had scared the rest of the parents in the neighborhood. No Viry child was allowed to engage in any sort of rough play after that. Had I been caught racing Krishel, or worse, sparring with him, we both would have been beaten severely.

I don't say anything else to Rune the remaining ten minutes we're in line, but when I scan the tables for an empty seat, my eyes are drawn to his table. The idea of asking to join him makes me queasy, but it is a little better than the asking to join these glaring strangers.

I close my eyes and muster all the poise Asevy ever tried to teach me, and cross the room.

"Mind if I join you, Rune?"

He looks as if he's about to say no, when one of the other boys at the table interrupts.

"Who's your friend?" The boy eyes me with the appreciation any Viry would expect. He could have been Viry himself, were it not for his dark brown beard and a piece of silver through his eyebrow. I've heard the Kuzabn adorn themselves with piercings, ink and makeup to appear even fiercer than they are to their enemies.

I've never actually seen a piercing up close, though. The way the skin clings to the metal disturbs me, and I look away.

"Well?" He licks his lips—I notice another metallic hoop there—then he looks at Rune. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"