"Raine Mason?" one of the foremen calls.
I step forward, not nervous in the slightest. Sometimes this happens. They call upon individuals because of whatever their skill set is. Not that I have one in particular, but they must have something in mind.
"Follow me," he says without even introducing himself.
I roll my eyes, but don't say a word. I know how to stay quiet when I need to. Most of the time. And only because I got into trouble a lot at school for having a smart mouth.
I expect the foreman to call out other names, but he doesn't even pause as we walk through the assembled workers.
It's only when we pass into the admin building that I start to worry. Have I done something wrong? I run through the past week or so, but can't pinpoint anything in particular. Certainly not something at work, and it wouldn't be my boss disciplining me for using the Arts, it would be the guards.
"Sit and wait to be called," the foreman says, pointing to an empty chair."
I nod, not daring to ask about what's happening in case whatever it is gets worse. The only thing I know for sure is that it's never good to be singled out. I've worked here for years and have only been inside this building once when I first started. Being back either means I'm about to be fired, or get a promotion to a position higher than I'd ever imagined possible. Something tells me it isn't going to be the latter.
Chapter Three
When my name is finally called, I'm escorted further into the building towards an office I never even knew existed. Something about it is more off-putting than I want to admit. I think it's because everything is too lavish, especially after the dreariness of the ash. I have to hand it to whoever keeps the place clean, they've done an admirable job of making it look as if the constant raging fires don't affect anything inside. The deep red of the curtains is completely unblemished, and the pale wooden desk doesn't appear as if it's even had a day's wear.
But nothing about this room tells me anything about the person who works here and what to expect. I've never heard of anyone being called into this office before.
That's because none of them come back.
I push the thought away, refusing to accept the possibility. If there's anything I can do that means I won't have to leave Mila alone to fend for herself, then I'll do it. I hate the idea of my sweet sister going it alone and becoming as jaded as the rest of the city is.
The door behind me creaks open. I try not to turn around to see who walks in. They want me to be on edge, and I'm determined not to let them see how much they're getting to me.
"Raine Mason, you have an interesting file," a woman's voice says.
I bite my lip to stop me from saying anything I shouldn't. I'm not sure what this situation is, but I don't want to make whatever is coming worse for me. Especially if it might get back to Mila.
The woman walks into view, and she's nothing like I expect with her power suit and her hair in a tight bun. She's the kind of woman who likes to torture people for fun, which doesn't bode well for me.
"I'm sure you know why you're here," she says, slapping my file down on her desk. At least, I assume it's my file. Maybe it's full of blank sheets of paper so she can do this for dramatic effect. I wonder how many people it gets to?
I can count myself in that number.
"I don't," I admit honestly.
She raises an eyebrow, but stays silent. Is she trying to smoke me out and get me to admit to something? It's not going to work. If I know what she wants me to say, then I'd say it. Unfortunately for me, I don't.
"I really don't," I assure her. "No one's told me anything since I got called out of line." Other than a few one-word commands.
"I see the guards need to work on their manners," she says, though her tone of voice suggests she doesn't particularly care whether or not they do.
I try not to fidget as she jots down some notes. Why have they brought me to this woman if she isn't going to do anything?
As if on cue with my thoughts, she sighs and sets down the pen. She links her fingers and folds them together, using them to appear as if she's a stern headmistress about to kick me out of school. It takes everything in me not to squirm in my chair. Instead, I settle for touching my fingers to the charm around my wrist, glad I didn't forget to put it on this morning. This woman has got to be evil, so perhaps it can help me against her.
"You've been selected for an opportunity," she says firmly.
"Oh?" Why do I get the impression her words aren't as good as they sound?
"You've been selected to be part of the Dragon Duels," she says as if she's commenting on the weather.
I frown. "Selected?" That's not how it works, is it? I don't know much more than is publicly available about the legendary duels, but I do know they can be gruelling.
"Selected," she repeats, as if it'll make more sense the second time.
"How long do I have to decide if I want to accept?" I shouldn't dismiss this opportunity out of hand, but I'm reasonably sure I want to say no. I'm not in the market for premature death.
Her cold gaze pierces into me. "You don't. This isn't optional."
"But..."
"Your options are the Dragon Duels, or death, Miss Mason. Though I suppose if you're really inclined, we can transfer you
