Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(15)
“Straight forward, single file,” one of the guards barked. The other two shifted several full burlap sacks onto a rusty cart that shrieked as they pushed it onto the pier.
Serina took a wobbly step onto shore and looked up at her surroundings. There was no beach, just jagged cliffs with a treacherous path carved into the rock. On the headland, an ugly stone building stood sentinel, surrounded by barbed wire.
“Move along.” One of the guards cuffed Serina on the shoulder, and she stumbled, her feet catching on the uneven ground. Here, the earth was frozen into strange black waves, like the mountain had melted. The building they approached was cut right into the otherworldly rock, with heavy, warped-glass windows and wide iron bars.
Even the wind was different here; instead of sighing, it screamed.
The guard pushed her again, through the door and into a hallway that smelled of urine and stale smoke. In front of her, Jacana slowed to a stop, still weeping. The guard raised his arm to strike her, but Serina gave her a nudge to keep her moving. It was all she could do: Move forward. Pray her heart kept beating.
At last, they shuffled into a windowless room. The guards lined the women up with their backs against the far wall. A collection of rusted tools hung on the right wall; the left was hidden by shelving stacked high with clothes and water-stained crates.
The boat guards handed off their paperwork to a group of black-uniformed prison guards. A tall, muscled man entered, and the boat guards tipped their heads to him, saying, “Good evening, Commander Ricci,” in reverential tones as they left.
The Commander’s weathered face and massive stature made him look as immoveable as the cliffs outside. He gestured to the line of women. A younger guard hurried forward, his angular face twisted into a frown. One by one, he unlocked their shackles.
Serina sucked in a breath when the heavy metal rings clinked open. She rubbed her sore wrists. Angry marks marred the smooth skin.
When everyone was unbound, Commander Ricci ordered them to strip. “Put your clothes in a pile in front of you. Slippers too.”
Serina’s hands shook as she unzipped her handmaiden uniform, wrinkled now from the night she’d spent in it, waiting in a small locked room down at the wharf for the prison boat to come in. The dress dropped to the floor.
She’d never been naked in front of a man before. She shivered, her body raw and vulnerable.
The angular-faced guard went down the line again, collecting the clothes as Commander Ricci inspected each prisoner, one by one. Serina had no idea what he was looking for. When it was her turn, he told her to open her mouth, raise her arms, and turn around. But she couldn’t move.
He grabbed Serina’s arm and jerked her forward, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Are you deaf? Open your mouth, raise your arms, and turn around.”
Serina straightened and somehow managed to do as he said. But she couldn’t help the tears that silently spilled down her cheeks.
Had her sister guessed the punishment she was courting, when she’d asked Renzo to teach her to read? When she’d stolen that book? Serina didn’t think so. Nomi had probably thought she was risking a flogging. Maybe a fine.
She’d been so stupid.
By now, most of the other women were crying too. Jacana sidled closer. Serina noticed the girl who’d spoken out on the boat standing a few feet away. She looked a couple years older than Serina and was much thinner, her brown body taut with muscle. The girl kept her gaze pinned to the guards, black eyes blazing. Serina expected someone to reprimand her for her disrespect—or punish her for what she’d done on the boat—but none of the guards paid her any attention. Maybe they didn’t notice.
The narrow-faced guard handed out scratchy towels and a handful of clothes to each of the prisoners. Serina donned the underwear, faded blue pants, and threadbare shirt as quickly as she could. It took far less time to get dressed when there weren’t corsets, endless rows of buttons, fragile lace, or high heels to contend with.
“I’ll call you forward for in-processing,” Commander Ricci said, his craggy face revealing little beyond bland indifference. There was something in his eyes, though, an occasional too-quick move of his head that suggested he was paying close attention.
“Anika Atzo.”
The muscular girl stepped up to the scale. The name fit her, all hard edges. This time, she kept her mouth shut.
When it was Serina’s turn to be weighed and measured, the guard manning the scale let out a low whistle. “It’ll take you a while to starve, flower.”
Serina stared hard at the floor, arms crossed over her chest. Her mother had gone to great lengths so Serina would grow up soft and curvaceous, as befitted a Grace. Even Renzo and her father’s portions of food had been smaller than Serina’s.
The man elbowed another guard. “Want to guess how long she’ll last? An extra bag of rice crisps says—”
“I don’t wager on dead girls,” the younger guard interrupted, speaking with a bored conviction that jarred Serina into looking up. He was tan and clear-eyed, with dark hair that curled up along the rim of his hat as if trying to escape. She could sense his cool appraisal without meeting his gaze. “Send her to the Cave,” he said. “That’d be interesting.”
“Not the Hotel?” the other guard mused.
The young guard shrugged. Serina had no idea what they were talking about, but their words filled her with fear. The guard in charge of the scales checked something off on his paperwork.