Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Serenity

I can barely remember a time before the war. The green, orderly lawns, the rows of houses, the neatly assigned shelves of food. That quest for perfection was the first thing to go when the king turned his attention to our land.

The first, but not the last.

War felled more than just order. We once knew casual compassion—politeness even. People smiled for the sake of smiling. Laughed because they couldn’t contain their joy. One positive emotion begat another, and it spread like the most decadent disease.

And the colors. Every once in a while I still dream in such vivid colors. What I would give to live in such a bright place again.

The world we knew is nothing like the one I live in.

But none of this, none of it was so costly a price as the one we eventually paid. Somewhere along the way, my people lost the most precious thing of all.

Hope.

Well, most of us lost it. Most, but not all.

An alarm goes off in the barracks, and I groan. My roommates—all seven of them—slide out of their beds before I do. But they hadn’t stayed up late learning about international diplomacy.

I pull back my threadbare blanket and swing my legs out. As soon as my bare feet hit the cold concrete, I begin moving, grabbing my fatigues and changing into them. Most of the women next to me have already shoved theirs on and left. They’re the smart ones. There might not be any breakfast by the time I get to the mess hall.

I sit on my bed and pull on my boots, wishing for the hundredth time that there was natural light in this place. For the last five years I’ve lived in this bunker nestled belowground. No matter how much I get used to this way of life, I can’t adjust to this one thing.

Once my shoes are laced up, I jog out of my room and down to the cafeteria. Just as I suspected, I’m too late. The line winds out the door.

My stomach contracts painfully; it’s a familiar ache. We’re all underfed here. Most of the land above us has been razed, which makes food scarce. No one will admit it, but the war is coming to an end. It has to; our people are slowly starving to death.

Despite the long wait, I stand at the back of the line anyway, hoping there might be something left over by the time I reach the front. I can’t bear the thought of waiting until dinner to eat.