Page 37 of Lake of Sapphire

Miles barely flinched as he got histhreeburned into his flesh. Vallie didn’t handle hers as well when the male burned atwointo hers right after. She wasn’t used to pain and let out an audible cry. As she made her way back down the steps, I saw a few tears streaking down her cheeks as she cradled her wrist. I seethed. It was barbaric, forcing everyone to be burned. I wanted to walk up and punch the man for hurting her.

The row before me was filing out one by one, going up the stairs, having their rankings declared, receiving their folders, and proceeding to the chair where they would get their number permanently burned into their flesh. Branding them. Labeling them. Making their worth to the society known. Most students let out a wince, a few flinched, some cried.

It was finally my turn as the person in the chair before me, Ali Kern Rabbe, had already gone across the stage.

“Scotlind Mae Rumor.” As I stood up and walked through the now empty aisle toward the stage, I noticed the Prince sitting on the chairs along the side of the Hall. Great.The same shaggy blonde-haired male with the striking green eyes filled the seat next to him. They looked funny sitting next to each other, a complete contrast. The male from the party seemed happy and warm. He had an infectious smile that seemed permanently plastered to his beautiful face. While the Prince gave off the persona of someone you wouldn’t want to be alone with.

“Rank zero,” Principal Myers declared.

I tore my eyes away from the two of them and continued up the stage. The word zero seemed to clang through the Hall as I walked, echoing with each footstep that took me closer and closer to the stage, sealing my fate.

No one clapped for me as I ascended the stairs to shake the hands of the professors standing before me. Professor Hale handed me my folder, which was surprisingly thicker than I thought it would be, then ushered me to the other side of the stage. The side withthe chair.

Ali had just finished with her burning. She was holding her left wrist so tight that I thought it would fall off as she walked down the stairs to reclaim her seat. Her eyes seemed glossy, but no tears were running down her face. Good for her.

I took the now empty seat as the male performing the burnings stalked over to the cast iron cauldron. He pulled out the poker with the large zero on it and swung it out.

My eyes were drawn to the bright, red ash falling to the ground around the poker as hesauntered over to me. Steam radiated off the iron. Embers trailed in his wake on the floor beneath him, indicating the path he took each time to dip the pokers in the flaming hot coals. I couldn’t stop reliving my nightmare. I was going to get burned again, but this time I had to sit still and wait for it to happen. It took everything in me not to freak out in front of all these people, to try to act like this wasn’t killing me on the inside.

I held my breath as I positioned my left wrist for him to burn and closed my eyes. But the pain never came to my outstretched hand.

Cold fingers clamped down around my other side, then I gasped as he adhered the poker to my right wrist. An intense ache radiated up my arm as the iron lingered on my skin much longer than it should have.

Everyone halted and looked at me. Principal Myers stopped calling out names and turned his gaze over to see what was happening. I was still stunned, frozen in place, with my left arm stretched out to brand. But instead, a big, red zero was seared on the skin of my right.

“Why did you do that?” Professor Gibs yelled as she took a step toward us, her cane thudding on the stage. “She was holding her left wrist out. It has to be the left. Now you have to burn the poor girl again.”

I looked up at the male as he walked back to the burning cauldron to reheat the zero iron poker. “I’m so sorry. An honest mistake. It’s been such a long day. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Did he do it on purpose?

“Wasn’t paying attention?” Professor Gibs howled. “Are you telling me that you aren’t paying attention as you burn our students? Do we need to get someone else in here to do your job?”

“No. It won’t happen again,” he promised.

I was sure it wouldn’t.

I continued holding my left arm out. It felt heavy in the air. It was far worse knowing the pain to come, but I didn’t have a choice. Everyone must have their rankings burned on their left wrist. They wouldn’t let me leave the stage without it.

A few seconds later, he came back with the same zero iron, freshly steaming, as he pressed it into my left wrist. This time I didn’t close my eyes, and I could have sworn there was a glimmer of a smile on his face.

Principal Myers collected himself enough to continue with the ceremony. As the poker left my flesh for the second time, Professor Gibs gave me a weary look before hobbling back to her spot on the stage. I stood up from the chair and narrowed my eyes at the male, my legs shaking. He chuckled.

Chuckled.

Like he wanted to hurt me. Like his actions were intentional. Was he mad that a nix was going to be the Queen? Was this some sick reminder of what I was? Because now, every time I looked down at my hands, angry zeroes would greet me, always reminding me what I was to these people. Reminding me that my worth to them was nothing.

Movement from the corner of the room caught my eye as I made my way back to my seat. The Prince was standing up, his fists clenched at his sides, his sights set on the male performing the burnings. The blonde next to him tugged his shoulder and forced him back down, whispering something into his ear.

Then his green eyes glanced at me, offering a small smile. The pity was worse than the nasty glares I received from everyone else. I quickly looked away as Principal Myers said, “Kole Michael Sanders.” Kole stood, then stalked toward the stage. “Rank four.”

Everyone clapped as Kole’s smug face crossed the stage. He didn’t flinch as the number four was burned into his wrist. The hot iron lingered on Kole’s flesh for one heartbeat, leaving his skin pink and only slightly raised afterward.

I looked down at my own throbbing wrists. My left wrist was similar to those around me. Pink, slightly raised, minimal flesh gone, but enough to make out the number. My right wrist was angry and raw, painful and fuming red, indicating he’d left the iron on for too long. Some of my skin was sloughing off and fell onto my clothing as the throbbing made it hard to focus on the rest of the ceremony.

I knew deep down I wasn’t a zero. I had Luxian abilities of some kind. Even though I’d been too scared to test them out and see what they were. My markings on my back told me otherwise. I wasn’t nothing. I wasn’t a zero. The burns on my wrists shouldn’t matter to me, but I tugged the sleeves of my shirt down to hide as much of the numbers as possible.

I couldn’t help feeling for the people who were truly rank zeroes. It made me furious that our society publicly ranked us to know who was better than the others. It made me feel small and insignificant. It shouldn’t be this way. People shouldn’t be made to feel inferior to others based on a number. And that number shouldn’t determine the outcome of our entire lives, but it did. I looked down at my wrists, the top of the zeroes poking out from beneath my clothes.

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