When I was a little girl, my father always said I had enough energy to light up the sky in the middle of the night. I was nonstop chatter and moving limbs. It wasn't just my body always on the move, but my mind as well. I could complete Borin's assignments in mathematics, language, science, and history within minutes. I ran faster than the other children and ate my food like it was going out of style. As a girl, I strived to do everything with speed. Unfortunately, I outgrew my need to be in constant rapid motion, and my body stopped reacting like it once did.

Days under the sun tending to the animals and pruning the gardens take their toll on my muscles. I ache right down to the bone, not to mention the red, burned skin covering my face. Over the years, I've done my fair share of manual labor to help our people, but nothing compared to this. Every task assigned to me for the past two weeks, I've tackled with the same eagerness I'd displayed as a child, and I've paid the price for it. Today was no different.

Two young goats found their way out of their pen, and I chased them through the woods. It took me hours to corner them, and the hike back was just as grueling. With a goat under each arm, I walked an hour back to Basecamp. Sweat soaked my clothes, and my arms burned from restraining the squirming animals. By the time I had them in their pen, the sky was a blanket of midnight blue and the galaxies on full display.

I walk through the streets, kicking up dust under my dragging boots. The rustic buildings are quiet, vacant other than the chirping crickets trapped inside. Light posts with small oil burning flames light the way, stretching my shadows into dark monsters around me. Barrack doors open and close, mingling with the boisterous conversations of the soldiers sitting around fires throughout the camp. The men and women who protect our kingdom take advantage of the night, relieving the day's stress with a cup of ale and the company of comrades.

My stomach grumbles as the dining hall comes into view. I haven't eaten since breakfast and ran on fumes toting the goats home. If my legs didn't feel like soggy noodles, I might run toward the meal awaiting me, but my low energy resorts me to measured steps. I close the distance and sigh when I reach the steps leading to the front door. I grip the railing to steady myself, and climb the first step.

The doors swing open, and a group of soldiers wearing stained white aprons walks out, smelling of stew and laughing.

"No," I say, unable to stop the word from coming out as a whine.

The lead cook, a hefty man with dark curly hair, looks down at me. The set of keys in his meaty hand jingles as he pushes one into the door's lock. "We stopped servin' dinner over an hour ago."

"But—"

"No exceptions, girl. You come on time or ya don't eat."

Nothing about this day has gone my way. I don't know why I thought eating dinner would be any different. It's fitting that I'm left to satisfy my hunger with the dried berries and nuts I keep in my room. The meager meal will have to suffice my rumbling stomach until breakfast.

"Yes, sir," I mumble and turn toward the barracks.

It feels like years pass by the time I reach the building housing my quarters. The door is heavier than normal as I wrench it open and slide inside. I try not to think about the sounds my stomach makes or the two flights of stairs awaiting me. Instead, I focus on the muscle relaxing herbs I can add to my bath and the small, warm bed I get to sleep in. Not only can I spend the night in a real bed, but I can spend the entire day in it. Tomorrow will be my first day with no work since arriving at Basecamp.

By the time I reach my floor, I can barely lift my legs. Just one more hallway and I can stumble into bed. In an effort not to rattle my bones, I move with small soft steps. The closer I get to my room, the clear voices become from the floor's common area. It isn't unheard of for conversations to run deep into the night around here. I learned early on that I, a girl who tends to the pigs, am housed in the officer's barracks. I'd like to think it's because they saw my value, but I know it's so Greer can keep an eye on me. Not only do I not trust Kyron, but it appears he doesn't trust me either.

"If only they knew the shit you do."

"None of these assholes need to know how I spend my spare time. In fact, I wish you assholes didn't know."

I pause at the sound of two familiar voices—Ulric and Kyron.

"There will come a day when you don't have to do this anymore," Greer says.

I inch closer to the end of the wall and peek around the corner. Kyron, Greer, Terro, and Ulric are stretched out on the worn leather couches and chairs that furnish the small space. A single lantern hangs on the wall lighting the room in warm gold. They each hold a glass of whisky in their hand with a half empty bottle on the side table. Everyone has discarded their jackets, draping them over the back of their seats. I jerk behind the wall and lean my back against it.

"Well, until they have a handle on it, I'm going to spend my time rectifying the situation. And I don't need any of you slipping up about what I'm doing. If anyone sees me leave tomorrow morning, tell them I was called away to meet with the king," Kyron says with a hint of anger in his tone. I'm well versed in that sound since it seems to be the only one he ever uses when talking to me. I can't imagine what one of his loyal flunkies did to get under his skin.

"We've kept your secret this long. Fuck, we've even contributed to it," Terro says followed by his lips smacking after he takes a drink from his cup.

A coin bounces on a hard surface and Greer says, "No reason to stop now. Fork it up, you two. This is a better cause then funding your gambling and sexual habits."

The ting and whirl of spinning coins clamors in the common area.

I slide forward enough to catch Kyron collecting the coins in to a leather pouch and saying, "This is my thing, but I appreciate the donations to the cause."

What the hell are the four of them up to? What secrets are they keeping and what is the situation Kyron is trying to rectify? I knew he was up to no good, but my stomach flips at the thought of his top-ranking officers being in on it also. They come off as loyal to the king, and they appear to eat, sleep, and breathe our fight for equality. It sickens me to know my father's army has fallen to such treachery. They were my last hope, instead they've become a roadblock to my cause.

If I must, I will ride home tonight and let Micah know what is happening. Kyron must be stopped. But from what? I hold my breath and will my pounding heart to slow, hoping they will dive into more details. Several long seconds pass with the refilling of glasses and slow sips of whiskey. I step forward believing the talking has come to an end for the evening when Kyron speaks up.

"Whose idea was it to open the goat pen and send our new want-to-be soldier on a wild chase?"

"That was all me," Terro responds. "You said to make her life miserable, and those little fuckers are fast. I wouldn't be surprised if she's still chasing them."

I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. The animals are important to Basecamp, and I take every precaution to ensure that they are safe. I spent the entire day beating myself up about leaving that gate open. During my trek through the woods, I screamed, cried, and berated myself. I treated myself terribly and it wasn't my fault.

"She's lasted longer than I expected. I thought for sure she would run after the first broken nail."

"Come on, Ky. The girl has busted her ass since she got here," Ulric says.

"If I hear she's batting her big, brown eyes at you two and you're taking it easy on her, I'll see to it that you join her in shoveling horse shit."

"They might be watching her a little too closely," Greer clears her throat, "but they aren't lifting a finger to help her."

I clink of glass tapping glass has me looking around the corner again.

Kyron tops off his cup, takes a swig, and says, "Good. Let her to know what it's like to slum it. I bet she never cleaned a dish or drew her own bath before coming here."

"I don't know about that," Terro says. "She jumped into the horse stalls and went straight to work. And we aren't talking about dainty sweeps of the shovel; the girl got shit done. Literally."

"I don't care if she possesses all the gifts of the Statera and can wield a sword in both hands. I want her out of here."

"I'd keep her if she could do all that," Greer mumbles and finishes her drink.

I fight back tears of anger and hurt as the discussion comes to an end. The four moves on to tipsy musings about the whisky in their glasses and debate who can wield a bigger sword. I wait until they are deep in their ridiculous conversation I pass by them to my room. They don't say a word to me, and I appreciate how I don't have to pretend like I didn't hear what I did. I want nothing more than to put a world's worth of space between us.

I reach my room and lock myself inside. My exhausted body leans into the unfinished door, and I slide to the floor, resting my forehead on my knees. The tears I held back flow freely down my face and I stifle down a sob. I never thought the rallying soldiers to rescue my father would be easy, but I didn't expect to have to fight against them either. And now, the people I need to convince to help me are conspiring to make me run home.

The more the thoughts simmer inside me, the hotter my skin becomes. My anger boils in my veins, and my trembling hands wipe away my tears. I'll be damned if Kyron gets his way, and I don't get mine. If my plans are going down in flames, so are his. I'm going to follow him tomorrow and find out his secret. And then, I'll use it to blackmail him into helping me right before I end his career in the Lucent army.