Page 72 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“No, there is not,” she quips with an even faker smile than the one I’m sporting.

I narrow my eyes.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have messed with Eva,” another nurse mentions.

“Who’s Eva?” I frown.

They all turn to glare at me.

“Lucy Rawlins. It’s your fault she didn’t get the job.”

The name sounds familiar. It takes me a moment to realize they’re talking about the girl with the book who got dismissed.

“It’s not my fault she did something wrong.” I shrug.

“She was our colleague,” the same girl adds, giving me a nasty look.

Since I’m not about to sit with people who do not like me, I release a loud humph and turn around, scanning the hall for an empty seat. Unfortunately, all of them are taken either by the nurses or the soldiers and workers.

With no other recourse, I take my tray and head outside. I can eat just fine on the grass somewhere.

I don’t want to be anywhere near the cantina so others can laugh at me, so I walk some fifteen minutes until I find a secluded spot. I take a seat under the shade of a tree and dig into my food. By this point, it’s not only meager but also cold. Alas, since I only had a few bites at breakfast and that donut, I am ravenous.

Although I try to pace myself, I end up eating all the stew in just a few minutes. All that’s left is a slice of bread, and considering how hungry I still am, I try to make it last.

Breaking it into small pieces, I lay it on my tray and stare at it.

In Aperion, I would have had a banquet with countless delicacies, while here I’m forced to survive on tasteless stew and a few pieces of bread.

I sigh.

At least I’m not eating a rat. I suppose I should look on the bright side.

I take a piece of bread and slowly chew on it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see people start running in the direction of the runway.

“The planes have arrived,” someone calls out.

Grabbing a handful of bread pieces, I shove them into my mouth and get to my feet. Perhaps it’s curiosity. But I find myself following those people toward the runway, wanting to see the airmen who came back from their mission.

In the distance, I see the planes heading toward the runway. One after another, they search for a place to land.

A crowd of people has gathered a safe distance away, and a male soldier starts counting the planes as they arrive.

“Five… Six…”

There is excitement, but there is also the underlying fear that some of their friends have not made it.

All the while, as I squint to get a better view of the planes, I wonder which one of them Mine is flying. But they all look the same to me.

“Which one is Major Vitry’s plane?” I ask a man in uniform.

He turns to me, his expression tight.

“The Virtuous,” he answers with the nickname of his plane. “But it’s not here yet.”

A few more planes land, and trucks rush to the runway, together with a few ambulances to carry the wounded.

---