At least the canteen is a big room, it somehow manages to dull some of the pain in my eyes. So long as I keep my eyes on the plate in front of me and not on everything going around. Though that presents its own problems, mostly that the soup makes me think of Mila and how much she'd enjoy the herbs in it. A pang of longing shoots through me at the thought of my sister. I wish I was home with her.
"Raine?" a small voice asks.
I glance up to find a mousey girl with dark curly hair standing in front of me. Something about her is vaguely familiar, but I can't put my finger on what.
"Marina," she says, holding a hand to her chest.
Oh. Oops. I hadn't recognised her without the caked-on dirt and grime.
"Do you mind if I sit?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Be my guest."
She sets down her bowl of soup, then climbs in opposite me. We're not the only people sharing a table, so no one thinks twice about her doing that. For the most part, everyone seems to keep to themselves or the people they already know. Though the latter category seems to be in small supply.
"How many people do you think are here?" she asks, glancing around the same way I did when I came in here yesterday. It was the first time I got a sense of the true scale of the Dragon Duels. Everyone knows that a lot of people go in, but the number has meant very little to me until I can see them all around me.
"A couple of hundred? I'm not sure. I'm only guessing based on the amount of food," I admit.
"That seems about right."
"What I don't get is how this many people go into the Dragon Duels every quarter and no one really cares," I muse. A small twinge of guilt accompanies the words. Before this, I counted myself in that number.
Marina snorts. "You know how it is. People only pay attention to themselves. Between the prisoners no one knows are there, and the people who are volunteered and unable to set the record straight, I doubt they have much problem with it."
"Ah, true." My shoulders slump. "I wish I could talk to my sister before whatever this is kicks off." I don't know why I'm telling her this, but it makes me feel less alone than before.
"Same. Well, my Father. He's all on his own now."
I sigh wistfully. "At least we can have some proper food." I nod towards her almost overflowing bowl of soup. It's better than anything we've had before.
"Until they throw us into an arena full of dragons and watch as we all die," she points out.
I sigh. She isn't wrong there.
"The guards that brought me here were bragging about how I wouldn't last five minutes." Her entire face falls. "They're probably right. I doubt a couple of days of good food can make up for months in that cell."
"Months?"
"Mmhmm."
"Anything else they told you?"
"Nothing useful," she admits. "They were mostly describing how much dragon fire burns."
"I guess it's too much to ask for everyone to be forthcoming."
"You don't seem as freaked out as you should be." She dips her spoon into her soup and blows across the top of it before eating.
"If I freak out, then I might miss them telling me something important that might save my life."
"I suppose that's true," she agrees reluctantly. "But what's it matter when we'll be dead in a couple of weeks."
"That's still better than dead today." At least, I think it is. I actually find it hard to know if I've made the right decision. There's a good chance I'll feel differently about it in a few weeks when I'm actually faced with the chance of it. But for now, it's better to put off the inevitable.
"I wish I had your optimism," she mutters.
"Didn't you choose to be here?" As far as I know, prisoners are given a choice whether to come here or not. I'm not sure what the other options are, but they still have a say in it. More than I had.
She laughs bitterly. "The choice is only an illusion," she counters. "Going back to the Marriage Market was out of the question, and dying right then and there seemed like no fun. So here I am."
I lean back in my chair, trying not to focus too much on what she's saying for fear it'll break me. She isn't the only one facing certain death. I may be good at surviving, but that's because I've never been up against a dragon before.
Something clatters to the floor behind me, and on instinct, I twist in my seat. Two of the other prisoners are shoving at one another and grunting. I roll my eyes. Is it not enough that the White Towers is after us, we have to turn on one another too?
One of the guards storms into the room blowing a whistle to try and stop the commotion. Somehow, I managed to forget they're still monitoring us all. I don't know how, when I know we're trapped here.
"Do you want to get out of here?" I ask Marina.
She nods enthusiastically, pushing her empty bowl away from her.
We rise to our feet and make our way across the dining hall so Marina can drop her soup at the disposal station. No one notices us leaving, they're all too focused on the fight going on and the entertainment it provides. It seems as if the guard has made matters worse and not better. Somehow, I'm not surprised.
The stark white hallway we turn into is empty of anyone else, which is fine by me if it means we can go without causing a fuss. Some of the people here like to cause trouble no matter how little we're causing to start
