The morning bell rings before the sun even clears the mist. It's a sharp clang that comes twice in a row, before silence takes over. I groan as I sit up in bed, my side aching beneath the bandage Lyara tied around me last night. I dress quickly and limp out into the courtyard where the rest of the children are already gathering in lines. Some still sleepy, others whispering under their breath.
Matron Hilda stands at the front, her arms folded tightly against her chest. Her gray hair is twisted in a braid, her long coat buttoned to the throat. Her face is always tight, like she's sucking on bitterness.
"Silence," she says, and the whispers die. We bow our heads and she begins the morning prayer, the same words we hear every dawn. "We thank the Overseer, who shields us from the evil of the wild. We walk in light, behind strong walls. We obey, so we live. We remain, so we are safe."
The last line echoes in my mind 'we remain, so we are safe' as if remaining is all that matters.
When the prayer ends, we're ushered into the dining hall. Wooden tables lined with chipped bowls. Bread, porridge, and dried roots. I find a corner seat and lower myself carefully onto the bench, trying not to flinch. I tear at the crust of bread and spoon a bit of porridge into my mouth. It's bland and cold, but I eat it anyway as hunger doesn't care about taste.
A moment later, someone drops onto the bench beside me. I turn and it's Lyara. She plops her full bowl in front of me. "You're too lean," she says, shoving it toward me. "Eat."
I blink. "What?"
She tilts her head and lowers her voice. "You need strength, especially after yesterday's incident." I glance around and suddenly realize half the room is watching us. The Children whispering, their eyes bouncing between Lyara and me like they've never seen two people talk before.
I push the bowl back to her. "People are staring."
She shrugs. "Let them."
"Seriously," I whisper, "they're going to start a story."
She smiles. "They always do." She pushes the bowl back, and I sigh, giving in. I spoon a bit of her food and start eating, trying to ignore the heat rising in my ears.
Suddenly, Matron Hilda approaches our table, hands clasped behind her back.
"Ashen Drelhart."
I stop chewing as I hear my name. Clenching the spoon tight, I think of what crime I've this time around. "You have a visitor."
I blink, looking up at her. "Me?" She nods once, her expression unreadable. "Alara Valemour is waiting outside."
A gasp ripples across the hall. The children whisper, someone drops a spoon, another's mouth half open and filled with food. My heart jumps as I look at Matron Hilda. Lyara on the other hand, raises her eyebrows, clearly amused. "Alara? As in the Overseer's daughter. Alara?"
Matron doesn't answer. She simply nods toward the door. "Now."
I get up slowly, brushing crumbs off my shirt. Eyes follow me all the way to the exit, and when I push the door open, the morning sun nearly blinds me.
Standing near the orphanage gates is Alara, wrapped in a cream-colored coat trimmed with silver buttons. Her hair is brushed and pinned back neatly, a wide smile spreading across her face when she sees me. Before I can say anything, she wraps her arms around me in a hug and I stiffen.
She laughs and pulls back, her eyes bright. "Relax, you look like someone just threw you into a river." I blink at her, speechless. "I brought some things for the orphanage," she says, gesturing to a cart behind her. "Blankets, food, some storybooks. Boring stuff. But I had to come see you."
I glance back at the door, expecting Matron to change her mind and drag me inside but she doesn't. She steps out behind me, nods once, and says, "You may walk with her. Don't go far."
I turn back to Alara, stunned. "You. You want to walk with me?"
She beams. "Of course. Come on." She grabs my hand like it's nothing, and we start walking toward the edge of the village, and just
like that, my quiet morning turns upside down.