Page 73 of Forcing Fate

He smirked at me before scanning the crowd again. “What do you think the women would do if I wandered down to the washrooms to take up the title of laundry maid?”

“They’d chase you out with rug beaters.”

“Exactly.”

My brows met as his words sunk in. Why was the idea of him becoming a laundry maid obscene, but my need to become a soldier was just fine? Was I as gender-biased as these men?

A sharp blare of a horn interrupted my thoughts. The noise signaled the recruits to return to the training fields. I stood, placing my plate and cup in a dirty bin before merging with the flow of men. A hand curled around my backside and I whirled to face Victyr. He gave me a terrible smile. Dried blood was streaked across his lips and chin. Someone shoved him forward. I watched him go as the bounty hunter sidled up next to me.

“If he had done that to another man, he’d be buried.”

I glanced up at him. He appeared as if it was a mere coincidence we ended up beside one another. With his angled shoulders and diverted focus, it didn’t seem as if he spoke or walked with me at all. I bit my tongue, happy to have made an… acquaintance.

I might have had little experience with friends, but I knew this was a place where only the biggest and strongest survived. I was too small, too weak right now to be without allies. Willhelm had other duties—he couldn’t be my nursemaid and take care of me all day. I needed a recruit or two, someone nearby to help me, and I’d do my best to support them in return.

We headed toward a training field closest to the barracks' stables, and a thrum of anxiety rang through me. I’d only ridden sidesaddle, and in a carriage, never like a man. I had never straddled anything, let alone a giant war beast.

As we neared, I picked out Master Aron’s bright-red hair standing tall above the crowd. He spoke with Commander Dewal. And General Rafe did as he always did—lurked in the shadow of a building, eyeing the recruits like a vulture ready to pick off prey. We lined up on the field, facing the group of stableboys who held two steeds each. Most of the horses stood there, placid and tame, yet my heart still raced at the thought of mounting one of the giant animals.

“Recruits! Attention!”

We all snapped to straighten our backs and push out our chests.

“You’re here to prove that you know your right from left, and how to mount a horse. Each of you will get on a horse, ride in a circle to your left, then to your right.” Commander Dewal marched in front of us as he yelled. “If you are stupid enough to get bucked off, you best get right back on or you’ll be dismissed. This is a test of your horsemanship. These are warhorses—I don’t want to see any fancy riding. You get on, ride two circles, and get off. Any more than that and I’ll have you do fifty push-ups.”

A few groans answered that, and he spun on his heel with a glare, searching for who made the complaint. “One hundred then!” he corrected.

No one dared make a sound.

“Master Aron will choose the riders.”

The Master of Horses started down the first row of soldiers, the row I was in. He stopped in front of each man, then pointed to a horse. As he made his way down, my heart raced, wondering if he would order me to mount the giant gray beast just ahead. His eyes slid to me as he directed the recruit three men down. He faltered and froze, blinking in confusion. His mouth opened, then snapped shut again. He cast an incredulous look at Commander Dewal, who stared at him as though he didn’t know what on earth caused the man to pause.

He cleared his throat and pointed the next recruits to horses then stopped at me. “Recruit?” he asked in a strange, high-pitched voice.

“Yes, sir!” I shouted, making him wince.

Please, please treat me like any other recruit.

“I—ah–” He looked at the row of horses, all giants to me, and back at the row of soldiers.

“Get on with it, man!” Commander Dewal barked.

Master Aron studied the horses again, then me. He pointed me down the line to a stocky bay. “Her,” he said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “She’s the most mild-mannered.”

I glanced at the bay before offering a curt nod and headed to her. Calm, perhaps… but as I neared, she just got bigger and bigger. The stirrups hung level with my sternum. My hands couldn’t even reach over her back. Even if I jumped, I wouldn’t reach her withers to grab a handful of mane. She had to be one of the tallest horses I had ever seen.

“Miss?” A stableboy peeked around the mare at me, worry written on his face.

“Recruit,” I corrected.

There was no way I could get my foot into that stirrup even if I hiked my dress up to my waist. “Could you give me a leg up?” I hissed.

“Sure, when someone takes this one off my hands,” the boy said, jerking his head at the chestnut gelding he held.

I sighed and wiggled my fingers, determined to wait. Scabs formed on my tender palms. Whenever I made a fist, they cracked and fresh blood trickled from the wounds.

Master Aron worked through the row of recruits, and I cringed when he pointed one of Victyr’s friends to the chestnut gelding the stableboy held. Perhaps the young man wasn’t as malicious. He made his way to us with an easy swagger, a grin on his face, and dangerous glint in his eyes.

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