The Maiden Army NaNoWriMo 2024

CHAPTER TWO

The ride to Callun, Karasen's sister citadel, took about a day's journey. Having left my cottage home only a few hours after sunrise, our carriage travelled at surprising speeds to arrive at the grounds outside the city a few hours before dinner.

Éliott opened the carriage door, his brown hair wind-swept from the long ride. His smile this time was more genuine, and I got the sense again that he was the sort of boy I might've fallen for, had everything been different, had I been not the most beautiful anyone had ever seen but a girl just pretty enough to garner the attention of such a handsome man. Perhaps that was my heart's way of telling me to get closer to him, but I wouldn't let that happen. Since the magic of women could not be controlled through selective breeding, since the whimsical nature of it made it so random, Maidens weren't allowed to mate, to settle, to have children. They weren't allowed to love anything at all, but the Crown and their country.

I responded to the guard's smile with a tight one of my own, taking his hand and stepping down out of the luxurious carriage. Almost immediately after I was on the ground, he let go quickly. I tried not to get stung, though I knew how he felt. He was in as much of a dilemma as I, being stuck handling these larger than life women and knowing that none of them could catch his attention. For the price of loving a Maiden? Death. For both the woman and her consort.

The outskirts of Callun had been outfitted with many colourful tents, mismatched in every way. In the center was a large stadium-like structure. And from every corner, every carriage, every turn, was women. Sixteen year old girls. Large girls, small girls, tall girls, thin girls. And all of them, all of them, wore an expression of excitement.

"Madame Manec, the Maiden at the table, she'll let you know where you're assigned." Éliott said. I nodded to him, and watched as he gave me a good moment's glance, as if taking me in, my painted-on features, my ethereal, delicate beauty, before turning around and climbing back into the carriage's driver seat. He drove away, leaving me alone with the hordes of sixteen year olds.

--

I made my way to the indicated table. Madame Manec, I figured out, was one of the senior Maidens. Unlike the younger ones, her face had wrinkles and worry lines, the only signs of old age that weren't hidden by her beautiful features. Her blonde hair was still thick and long, tied up in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. The line at her table was hundreds of girls long, and I waited until, finally, it was my turn.

"Name and place of origin." Her voice was strict and no-nonsense, just like her dressing style of a crisp navy blue suit and shiny black boots. Madame Manec didn't even look up at me, as if we were all beneath her until further notice.

I swallowed. "Irène. Irène Auguste. Outskirts of Karasen." My voice wasn't how I'd thought it would be. It was strong, confident, though the prim and proper quality to it had died, replaced with the original country twang that my mother, father, and I shared with everyone in the Karasen outskirts.

Madame Manec looked up, her brow creasing as she looked me up and down. "There's something about you, girl." Her voice was soft, so much so that I barely heard her.

Furrowing my own brow, I asked, "What was that, ma'am?"

But the woman didn't say it again, instead looking back at the paper on her desk and marking something off with her pen. She then eyed me before speaking. "Miss Auguste, you have been assigned Chenille Tent. As it is one of the smaller ones, you have only one other tentmate, Miss Dahlia Floquet. If any issues arise, please do not hesitate to come find a Maiden. Clothes have been placed in your trunks already, and mealtime is at seven o' clock in the stadium." This speech was rehearsed and said louder than her words before.

Still dubious, I nodded to her, before getting out of line to go find this Chenille Tent. It turned out, as I discovered after ten minutes of aimless wandering, that each coloured tent was named after a flower or herb, and mostly colour-coordinated. After that realisation, it didn't take long for me to place the petite red tent with a little sign in front proclaiming it to be Chenille Tent.

I ducked in through the flaps and found the insides to be clean, organised, and overall, luxurious. Perhaps not as comfortable as the carriage that I'd been brought in, which was obviously of royal commission, but fancy nonetheless. Two cots had been set up on either side, each with two trunks beside them, one on each side. Everyone was given standardised clothing, as personal items weren't permitted, except the clothes on your back. There was an alcove created by a loose flap of the tent where I guessed a chamber pot and basin of warm water was stationed. There was little free space, but definitely enough space for two sixteen year old girls to live comfortably for nine days.

"Hello, you must be Irène." The voice, husky and oddly seductive, came from beside me and I whirled to find a girl around my height. Dahlia, I remembered Madame Manec saying. She was of average build, though her body's curves were more than generous, and her full mouth and large eyes made her beautiful in a more rugged way than my own beauty. She had gold-brown eyes, dark hair neatly coiled, and skin that was a deep bronze.

I dipped my head respectfully, suddenly a lot more self-conscious of my voice. While mine had a normal accent with a bit of country, Dahlia's was deep and unwavering, her Rs stretched and rolled. Obviously, a girl from northern Lyssea. "And you, Dahlia Floquet?"

The girl smiled, the curve of her mouth making me blink. I was the most beautiful girl that I'd ever seen, considering I'd never gone far from my village square. I'd never even ventured into Karasen proper, so I'd never found another sparkle girl. But being surrounded by people like Dahlia every day, people like me? It was going to be unnerving, to say the least.

"Are you excited?" The way the girl said her words, slow and intentional, with the full weight of her northern accent, it made me smile. "For becoming a Maiden? Surely a girl such as yourself knows that it will eventually be her fate." Dahlia added that last part after seeing me wince. My mother never used the word Maiden, or even the word sparkle, almost as if she'd denied the Army's existence for as long as I'd lived. My father had never much used it either. I wasn't used to people referencing it much. Another thing to get used to, I supposed.

"Not really," I admitted after a moment of silence. I peered up at her. "Are you?"

Dahlia considered for a while, then turned on her heel. She stalked over to one of her trunks and pulled out a bright pink gown, almost as beautiful as my mother's handiwork. It was only then that I realised she wasn't wearing anything as fancy as me, that she was just in a faded pink tunic. "If this is to be my fate, then should I not be grateful?" She said at last.

I shrugged, walking over to my own trunk. This dress was the only thing left of my family, and I didn't want to take it off. "It's beautiful, keep it on. I'm sure they wouldn't mind." Dahlia said from across the space, as if reading my thoughts.

I nodded. "Let's explore the encampment then?" Something about Dahlia told me she was as adventurous as I.

The girl's eyes sparkled. "I shall be right there with you."

1,347 words

CHAPTER THREE

Day two of the testing days began at exactly five in the morning. A multitude of monotonous grey practise tunics had been stuffed into our trunks full of standardised clothing, and, somehow, the tops, along with the black leather leggings that I paired them with, fit almost perfectly. As announced, breakfast was served in the stadium-like structure at exactly five thirty. Dahlia and I made our way there five minutes early, just in case, and were rewarded with warmer food and seats closer to the buffet table.

All the girls, it seemed, had found someone worth talking to. Little cliques had already begun forming, from dark-skinned, alluring northern girls like Dahlia to green-eyed, white blonde haired southern girls, and all the in-betweens like me. Both of us having silently agreed not to leave each other, Dahlia never left my side as we found ourselves in a lonely but shaded little corner, even as many other girls nodded to her as they passed. She nodded back, her large lashes fluttering, but never even thought to leave me.

"What are you hoping for? Maiden draft, or the disappointment of returning home?" The way I said it made it obvious to any listener that my own hopes were in the latter, though I've been told all my life that I was going to be the former. Of course I would be, with a face like this and limbs like mine. I wasn't just beautiful, I was downright gorgeous. Maybe if I'd been raised different, the thought would've made me blush and stammer and act like the delicate thickheaded girls, but I hadn't been raised like that. I had been thought to think for myself, to know that, deep down, fragility wasn't my thing.

Dahlia tipped her head to the side slightly as she worked the warm cinnamon porridge that they'd given us in her mouth. "Hmm." The noncommittal sound was comforting, from her, deep and long. "Maiden draft." She decided in the end, her twisted locks of hair falling back into place as her head did. "I've known all my life that it is what I was destined for."

Destined doesn't mean desired. But I didn't say anything, knowing full and well that this topic was not one many girls wanted to touch upon, even in the midst of their nine auspicious testing days.

--

The leader of the Maidens, better known to most as the duchess-general, was here along with all the other senior Maidens. It was said that she not only commanded the Maiden Army, full of the magicked woman in Lyssea who were forced to fight, but also the army of men, nicknamed the mortal army by many, which was full of the willingly drafted men that served the crown loyally, but were of no value when compared to the Maidens. She was the right hand woman to the king when it came to matters of war, with combat strategies always playing in her head like stories and bloodshed always in her mind. She was brutal and bloodthirsty and terrifying, according to everything I'd ever heard of her. But looking at her now, at the withered but still graceful woman standing before everyone as she assigned them their testing groups, she didn't look like any of those things. Maybe everything that we'd been taught about the Maiden Army, maybe all the reason the commoners hated them, maybe it was all wrong. No. I shouldn't start down that pathway, not if I ever wanted to return home.

Dahlia and I ended up in the same testing group with two other girls. One was petite, with stick straight sandy blonde hair and green eyes, a girl of the south, and was named Gabrielle Moreau. She had her chin up, eyes defiant, as she explained to anyone who would listen that she was the eldest daughter of some Lord Moreau of Rhesen. I know it was what we were all thinking, but none of us could bear to voice: With curves like that, a face like that? It won't matter who your father is, what you might've inherited as a normal girl. You're a Maiden, through and through. The other girl was taller, thin and lanky. She had raven black hair and chocolate brown eyes, but that was the last remarkable thing about her. Her lips were thin, her cheeks pale, and her nose slightly upturned. She was a girl who looked like she would go home. Mathilde Aubert.

We were first stationed at the health check tent. Other groups were assigned there too, so we waited in a long line, silent as we realised that part of our fate would be decided by the end of today. Would we go home, or would we get drafted to become healers and fighters and workers and strategists for the Army? For the crown?

Slowly the line moved up, and our awkward bubble of silence wore away. "I don't know about you guys," Gabrielle, who insisted on being called Gabby, said. "But I'm pretty sure I have magic. Like, I've felt it before, washing over me." We stood in silence as Gabby described a most likely imaginary scene of her childhood.

Eventually, the line did move up and we were ushered inside to where four senior Maiden healers waited for us. We each split and each woman began her checkup. Poking and prodding every part of my body, measuring things that I didn't know could be measured. My assigned Maiden was kind, but I watched with horror as she brought a pair of shiny sharp scissors closer. "Don't be worried," The woman said. "I'm just taking a bit of hair so we can categorise you." She winked at the end, though that didn't ease my worry a single bit.

I closed my eyes, wincing as a bit of my dark hair was cut off by the scissors. "See, not bad at all." The woman put the bit of hair into a glass container before taking my height and weight measurements. Eventually, after figuring out the length of my legs and how big the space between my eyes were, she let me go. In a few moments, I was joined at the back of the tent by Dahlia, Gabby, and Mathilde.

We were then ushered into various other tents. Some where they assessed our ability to fight with different weapons, some where they asked me personal, intruding questions. "Why do you have that scar there?" "What's your worst memory?" "Have you ever fallen in love?" The experience only got worse as we moved farther in. It was as if they were sending us to the more delirious of the Maiden seniors. They began making us do the craziest things. "Command the wind." "Speak to the tree." "Fly."

When I felt as if I could take no more, the day was over. Seven o' clock, sharp, and a cold dinner of soggy green beans and some mystery meat stew was served, hard bread and salted cheese as a side. Dahlia and I trudged back to our tent, heads down, completely beat. Seven more days remained of this nonsense, and I had not caught a single whiff of magic.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Dahlia. Hopefully, just as confused as I was.

But the girl's answer was the opposite. She grinned, large and wild. "I think Gabby's right. I can feel that magic wash over me."

1,238 words

CHAPTER FOUR

Day three began after breakfast. Dahlia, Mathilde, Gabby, and I, we met up by our assigned station for the day, a bright yellow tent that was large and circular. Not many stood outside of it, only two women that could be identified as Maidens as per their uniform. Both waved our group in, then closed the tent flaps, sealing us inside. The interior was different from most of the other tents, with a large, circular sand-filled fighting ring in the middle. A wispy woman with flowing dirty blonde hair stood to the side, large specs resting on her thin nose. Even with her aura of fragility that emanated stronger than my own, she was pretty, though more on the unassuming side.

She probably didn't grow up knowing she was a Maiden. She probably thought she would have a normal life, with a trip to the husbandry market and a happy life after that. The thoughts were dark in my head, but I did my best to make my mouth smile.

"I am Elaine." Even though it was quite unnecessary, the woman pushed up her wire-rimmed glasses. "I will choose pairs and you will fight." The words were plain, simple yet commanding in their own way.

The other girls and I looked around, finally bringing our gazes back to Elaine's. Since no one else seemed ready to voice the question that was definitely burning in all our heads, I said it. "Where are the weapons?" While there was certainly nothing stopping females from getting a warrior's education, it simply was frowned upon by the commoner men, just like Maidens themselves were. Girls were meant to be pure, in their heads, even though the army that protected and stratigised for Lyssea was made up of only women. The men's army was always second-rate when there was a more strong, magical army in availability.

Elaine blinked, as if looking at me for the first time. Her gaze focused, for only a moment, and something sharp about that gaze hit me. It was like she wasn't just looking at me, but into me. Her look pierced skin and flesh and bone in just a matter of moments, finding something deep within before pulling out as her gaze went back to that foggy look she'd had on before. "No weapons." Elaine said simply. "You fight with what you have. Arms, legs, teeth, nails."

The first chosen pair was Mathilde and I. Of course, even with a father like mine, who'd let me do anything I wanted, including climbing the various trees in our lands, I'd never learned any combat skills either. It had never occurred to me to learn, and it wasn't as if Papa knew much either. He was a softhearted man, even if his face didn't show it, and he'd never been in so much as a bar brawl. But against Mathilde, who looked infinitely more nervous than I did myself, perhaps I could find myself victorious.

Both of us climbed into the ring. By now, Mathilde's hands were shaking. Her shining black hair was clumped together oddly, and paired with the fact that her chocolate brown eyes had purple-blue bruises under them, I could make out that she hadn't slept well last night, and maybe not for many nights before that as well. Something about that made me soften to her. Maybe I should go easy on her? It wasn't like I knew how to fight either.

As if sensing my hesitation, Elaine's soft voice echoed in the circular tent again. "Do not hold back. I will only make you fight, again and again, if I do not think you have reached your potential." Those were the most words that she'd spoken to us, and the most revealing. Could that have been what she'd done to me with her gaze? Drilled some invisible, magical hole into my soul and figured out my... potential?

Mathilde blinked several times. Eventually, she took a breath and nodded to herself. Elaine, sensing that we were as ready as we'd ever be, signaled for us to begin. "Begin. I will signal the end when one of you has been knocked unconscious."

Unconscious? The word was a blazing thought in my mind. I hadn't climbed into this ring knowing that was how either Mathilde or I would leave. Already both of us were at a disadvantage, how long would we need to fight until one of us either falls due to fatigue or because the other knocked them down? Too long.

But Mathilde, her shaking having disappeared after that one final breath of calm, seemed to hold no such reservations. She charged forward, eyes alight with something akin to wild adrenaline. Her arms were out, fingers stretched out, nails bared. It was all I could do to run. Around and around the ring we went, her chasing, me running. I had no strategy, just the fear of getting hurt that made me go.

This will just go on forever. Elaine will not call it off. And if we don't satisfy her? She will only make one of the healing Maidens revive us to fight again. That is how this testing goes. That is how Maidens are. Bloodthirsty, ruthless.

So, forming a half-baked plan in my head, after the fifth rotation, I turned and jumped. Mathilde, not expecting the attack, faltered just as I landed upon her, arms outstretched to keep her nails from finding purchase on me. While the element of surprise was still in my advantage, I hooked my legs around her body, and slammed my arms down on her arms, making sure she was stuck on the ground. Now, I just had to find a way to knock her out, which was definitely easier said than done.

But the split second of hesitation cost me my lead. Mathilde, who was stronger than she looked, flipped me over, landing on top of me with her legs keeping me down. Pinning my arms together on my chest with a singular hand, she brought a fist up, ready to strike. She had no idea what she was doing, just like me, but I saw no regret in her face, no fear. What had happened to the shaking girl who'd been there just moments before?

Reacting on just instinct alone as the inevitable punch came closer, I twisted, the movement strong, fast, and completely unexpected. Rolling onto my stomach made Mathilde fall off, and I used the momentum to roll onto my back once more and stand up. By now, my dark hair, which had formerly been plaited neatly was now flying everywhere.

Mathilde was still on the floor, nursing an ankle that must've been wounded by the fall off of me. I took in a breath, then jumped onto her again. Little cuts formed on her hands where she tried to block the blow of my nails. Drops of blood fell onto the sand, and Mathilde screamed. Loud and completely feral. I put my hands around her head, and she shook her head, trying to get me to back off, but I didn't. I sighed, this was not was these testing days were supposed to be, not at all. "I'm sorry," I mouthed.

And as she brought her leg up, I landed a strong blow to her jaw, knocking her out and taking a part of me with her.

--

The moments after Mathilde fell onto the sand were a bit of a blur. Elaine called for me to stop, even though I'd already stepped far back from the girl's limp body. Maidens with healing abilities were called in, and they carried Mathilde's body away. I climbed out of the ring, slightly shaking. Dahlia came closer and gave me a quick hug before braiding my hair back into its original position.

Then it was her turn. Gabby and Dahlia entered the ring and I tried my best not to focus as the brawl began and teeth and nails went flying. But I failed as my eyes went to Gabby, her fingernails tearing deep into Dahlia's flesh. I winced, closing my eyes. When I opened them, my gaze went directly to my roommate's wrists, but I saw there had not a speck of blood or even a trace of gouge marks. The skin was clear and smooth, as if it had never been touched. What..? That wasn't possible, was it? But Dahlia was a Maiden...

I was distracted by Elaine walking up to me. The Maiden's eyes were fixed on the fighting match, her eyes obviously noting the techniques used and the "potential" of both participants. But, as Gabby and Dahlia grappled against each other, she spoke to me. "Irène Auguste." Her voice was soft. "You are a special one."

"Huh?" I whipped my head around, but Elaine had already made her way back to her position near the edge of the ring. I turned my gaze reluctantly back to Dahlia and saw her land her final blow to Gabby's jaw, practically a mirror to mine.

The same process with the healing Maidens happened again and I went over to Dahlia, who was completely unscathed, except for her out of place hair. She righted it on her own and flashed me one of her beautiful smiles. "Ready to be a Maiden now, Irène?"

1,553 words

CHAPTER FIVE

At some point, I'd stopped resenting the normal girls, the plain girls who had no Maiden in them, and I'd started aspiring to be like one of the Maiden women guiding the testing. Perhaps it was the confident, stiff way they held themselves, or even the way they treated us girls with respect. They were larger than life, and for my whole life, I had not been able to worship them like the other girls secretly did. I did not understand how life-changing an experience with one of them could be. I did not understand how many normal girls wanted nothing more than to have been born beautiful, to have the opportunity to become a Maiden, to be whisked away into some fantasy of a life.

Every time I felt myself falling down a rabbit hole of a similar train of thought, I caught myself. You are stronger than this temptation, this lure, of power. Don't you want to go back, to Mama and Papa? It was always the thought of them, my parents, that sobered me, that brought me back to reality. Because while other girls had families that wanted nothing more than to sell their girls in the husbandry market as soon as possible, to make as much coin as they possibly could off their girls faces and features, mine had cared for me, loved me, even.

On the fourth day of testing passed quickly. Mathilde had yet to come back from the infirmary of magical healing. Gabby, Dahlia, and I had been assigned to a tent with a woman wearing flowy robes and a topknot. Her eyes had been closed the entire time, yet she'd spoken as if she'd seen everything. For hours, she'd made us stare at our palms and describe to her what we saw. "There is a future written there, my dears. Tell me what you see." She would say so over and over, no matter what answers we produced.

The fifth day, Mathilde still didn't turn up. This time, we were sent to a small tent, able only to hold one of us plus the Maiden inside. We patiently waited our turns. Gabby went in first, grinning as she came out, her lovely face bright with warmth. Dahlia went in second and came out almost immediately, her eyes closed. Finally, I entered. Inside the black tent, it was dark as midnight. Only faintly could I make out the shadows of the other woman in there. I couldn't make out any features, but her voice was familiar. "Madame Manec?" The woman had gone quiet for a moment, then had told me to look into her, neither affirming nor denying my assumption. Having no idea what she'd meant, I'd asked again, only to have felt the same feeling that I'd gotten from Elaine, as if someone was poking a needle right into my soul and peering in. The sensation was gone almost immediately and the woman had told me to leave.

The sixth, seventh, and eighth days had passed by with little to none fanfare. We'd gone through our usual routine-- get up before sunrise, breakfast, get tested, lunch, get tested, dine, and then go to bed, exhausted. I could tell, girls were already making friendships and alliances, readying themselves for whatever fate lay ahead of them. Maiden or wife. Soldier to the crown, or servant to a husband. But I approached none of the cliques. Dahlia and my unspoken pact held true as we spent our hours together in quiet companionship. Sometimes, Gabby would join us, looking lost after the disappearance of Mathilde. Other times, when it was just the northern girl and I, she told me stories. Tales of Maidens in battle, comedies of Maiden girls training, detailed descriptions of the Maiden quarters and the Tvillan palace. None of the information she told me was public knowledge, but I'd learned early on never to question Dahlia.

Today was the ninth and final day of testing. Some groups, who'd yet to finish their rounds of all the testing stations, kept at it, going from tent to tent and getting their results finalised. But our little group of now three had finished our last test last night, and were free for the morning and early afternoon before the results would be publicly shared at the stadium in the evening.

"Aren't you just beyond excited?" Somehow, Gabby had come alive for this last testing day. It was easy to tell from her high-pitched trill of a voice that she was nervous, and it was also easy to tell how she dealt with those nerves-- chatter. Nonstop and pestering. After three whole hours of never ending Gabby talk, it was finally time to get ready for the announcement.

Gabby left us to get to her own tent at one, and Dahlia and I trudged to our brightly coloured Chenille Tent. We both looked through our standadised trunks. I'd resorted to storing my dirty clothing in one and my fresh in the other, as laundry wasn't readily available in the outskirts of Callun city. According to the duchess-general, our trunks would be shipped to the palace were we to make Maiden status, and if not, we'd get to keep them regardless. Still, I felt only comfortable in the beautiful silver-and-grey dress Mama had stitched for me. Twice these past few days, I'd worn the thing to bed, certainly ruining its texture and pattern, but relishing the comfort of home that it brought. Now, I would wear it again, had a large rip not been torn into it by my sleeping self. Instead, I chose a pale blue garment, two times grander than the practise tunic but not as heavy as my mother's embroidered piece. Plaiting my hair into two equally sized braids, I looked over at Dahlia. "What do you think?"

The other girl had donned what looked to be a white, frilly tunic, wearing a black cape to go with it. Her hair was up in a knot, and her eyes had been enlarged with kohl. "Beautiful, Irène." I curtseyed with a smile, and said the same back to her.

Once ready, we made our way to the stadium, arms locked and heads spinning. For no matter what one wished the outcome to be, today was the day that Lyssea would seal our fates. Today was the day we were told who we were meant to be.

1,070 words

CHAPTER FIVE

Somewhere during our journey into the stadium structure in the center of the testing camp we'd found Gabby, and our threesome was complete, though I still felt a gap where Mathilde should've been. Many times over, I'd wondered where she was, but on this final day, the day where so many girls would be turned down from their dreams of magic and power and glory, perhaps she'd always known that she wouldn't make it this far.

We sat, all three of us quiet. The silence between Dahlia and I was practised and comfortable, as we'd fell into similar lapses of conversation in the past few days. She and I were opposites in pretty much every way that counted, but our hearts had seemed to click from the first day, and I knew that were we not to be separated, we'd grow into the best of friends. Gabby, however, was a different story. While earlier in the day she'd been chatty, that endless energy seemed to have seeped out of her and now she sat with a pensive look on her face.

Finally, finally, finally, finally, Duchess-General Genevieve Laurent entered the field in the center of the stadium, her tiny stature stationed on top of a large dias-like platform. Even though her size was small, her body spoke volumes of her power and influence, not to mention the admirable grace with which she walked. After a moment of staring at us girls, Laurent cleared her throat in a soft ahem. Naturally, the entire crowd fell silent, watching and waiting for the legendary woman to begin.

"Our testing has finally come to an end. Many of you have powers you could never have imagined, and many others have always felt the magic inside you calling. And the rest of you, unfortunately, will never have the chance to experience what it is like to carry the honor of being a Maiden." Laurent paused, and I wondered whether she knew how every villager hated the Maiden Army, calling them sparkles and many other words that shouldn't ever be repeated. "From today, many of you will be considered a Maiden."

The words were met with a little bit of polite applause before all the sixteen-year-old women fell silent once more, eagerly awaiting this, whether so they could finally return home to their families and lovers, or so they could be drafted into the Maiden Army and become the forbidden superheroes that we'd always dreamed of.

I sucked in a breath, unsure. Dahlia and Gabby both had found magic within them, I knew it. After they'd experienced it, I could feel the shift, the confidence. But me? Not a single whiff of magic had been revealed, even though I'd kept getting those odd comments from the senior Maiden women. "There's something about you girl." "You're special." None of them elaborated, but something about it unsettled me. Surely if they were right, some form of magic would've become apparent?

Perhaps my beauty was a fluke. Perhaps I was nothing like the other Maidens because I was just a normal girl. Perhaps I'd get to return, by the end of the week, to my sprawling cottage home and my loving parents. Perhaps I'd lead a proper life, one where my hand to marriage was sold on the husbandry market and I bore children. Perhaps...

My spiraling thoughts trailed off as Laurent began reading off of a large list of names. "Margarethe Lavoie. Valarie Beaumont. Farrah Monet." On and on it went. Eventually, Dahlia's name was read off, and she left my side to find her place on the platform next to her Maiden-sisters. At some point, Gabby's name was read as well, and she, too, left my side. I listened carefully, telling myself that I wanted nothing more than to be not on that list, but knowing deep down that this rejection of something vital that I'd believed myself to be would only haunt my life. The list came to an end, and the duchess-general looked up, her eyes searching the faces of us normal girls, the ones who'd been left behind.

"This year," She began, once more. "This year, we have found someone special. A speaker has been found for the first time in a century. Please also welcome Miss Irène Auguste to the Maiden Army special ranks." At the end, she seemed to lock eyes with my own shocked ones.

My mind kept screaming at me, It's a mistake! I didn't have any magic. I would've noticed the shift. But it was no use. My body, my bones, my soul, knew that this was my destiny. I got up from my place and made my way down to the platform to stand next to the Maidens who would now be my sisters as well. It had always been apparent, I didn't know how I'd ever doubted it.

I was Irène Auguste, the most beautiful girl in all of my village. And I was fated to be a Maiden from the very beginning.

--

After a day long carriage ride, the long train of Maidens to-be finally arrived in Tvilla, the city of dreams and the gorgeous capital of Lyssea. Where fortunes were made and fame was gained, where love was found and luck was lost, where promises are met and secrets are kept. The most advanced city in the world, the city of the learned, made possible by the magical Maidens.

Unfortunately, none of the wonders of Tvilla were able to be viewed by the newest Maidens. The curtains in the coaches had been closed shut, showing no view of our faces to the commoners. The train of carriages rode quickly, straight to the palace on the main road with no detours for sightseeing. When I first stepped out of the coach, the first thing I saw was the large glass palace. Many who saw the structure claimed that it enchanted even those haters of magic, but the palace truly looked like a child's plaything, with its lofty spires and walls of glass. It looked as if it could fall over with the slightest push.

"I've heard the men's army barracks are out here, on the grounds, and they're no better than horse stalls while ours are in there." Gabby came up behind me, her voice pitched in a whisper though we all knew what she said was true. The Maiden Army was invaluable, an asset that only Lyssea had, and the royal family treated us as such. But the men's army? It was second rate, made up of volunteers and young boys whose best chance at a good life was with the pension that the army offered.

As one large clump of excitement, we entered the glass palace through the sloping front doors. Clouded crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and directly under the ornate glasswork was a large, stout man. His body glowed with a sense of control, and it was immediately apparent that this man was the one who ran our country. The beloved king of Lyssea. His Majesty King Raphael Dumas. Next to him was a taller woman, one who was lean, with sharp cut features. She could be no other than the queen herself. Her Majesty Queen Léonie Dumas.

As soon as all the new Maiden recruits had congregated in the hall, the king opened his mouth and began speaking. ""Out of all the women in Lyssea, you all are the most lucky. To have a future in which you are guaranteed to honor your nation and serve your people with the gifts that you have been given. Thank you for your services, thank you for your dedication, thank you." The short speech seemed practiced and not at all genuine, though the queen's demure smile lightened the mood.

Dahlia nudged me as our group began our walk towards the Maiden wing of the palace, the duchess-general giving a small tour on the way. "What do you think, Irène?"

I didn't answer, pretending to pay attention to Laurent as she began speaking of the training center, the first of the Maiden dominated areas of the palace. After a few moments of listening to the history of the place, about how top-notch it was in all its training mechanisms and gear, the room itself came into view.

The space was cavernous, a large hall rivaling the one we'd entered the palace in. Inside, trainees were hard at work, at different stations, exercising or learning ways to defend themselves. The whole space, still made of clouded glass, no doubt reinforced by a Maiden's magic, was beautiful, glowing with the promise of knowledge and purpose. Every nook and cranny of the observation deck that we stood on was filled with us new recruits, gazing down at the scene before us with wonder. This was who we were to become. Maidens were myths no longer, they were a reality.

And through my better judgement, though I knew there was so much in this world that was waiting for me, that wasn't being a Maiden... I felt proud.

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CHAPTER SIX

The transformation from draftee to Maiden trainee took most girls a night. Rooms had been assigned by choice the previous night, with me and Dahlia ending up together, along with Gabby, and meals had been brought up by servants. Come morning, every girl woke to clean, fitted black tunics and cotton leggings neatly pressed and placed on their cots, along with tubs filled with simmering hot water.

"Hm, they are taking care of us, no?" Dahlia's response had been. She smiled, fingering her new training wear absentmindedly. She looked up, meeting both Gabby and I in the eyes, her grin growing. "I'll bathe first?" Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared into the bathing chamber, clothes in hand.

That left Gabby and I by ourselves in our suite. The rooms were luxurious, or at least, ours were. Each of us had a separate bedchamber, with a small common area in between that was beautifully furnished with sea foam green Terrell rugs, silken cushions, and tables and chairs. There was one bathing chamber, and it had a large bathtub as well as running water and a contraption that was to be used instead of a chamber pot. I'd never seen something so advanced in my entire life, and I was sure even my businessman of a father would agree. This was Tvilla, the city of the learned, the domain of the Maidens. No one used out houses when they could have running water, no one used chamber pots when they could use their indoor contraptions.

But my excitement kept getting cut short with images of Mama and Papa flashing in front of my eyes. Every moment, I could do nothing but think, I wish they could see this too, I wish they could experience this with me. There were so many wonders in Tvilla, so many wonders in the palace, and to experience it all, to be treated like royalty, I'd traded the one thing I'd loved with all my heart, all my soul. My family.

--

"All of you have been assigned a Mistress." Duchess-General Genevieve Laurent's voice carried across the large training hall effortlessly. Behind her stood a line of Maidens, all of them graduates of the training program and full-time Maidens. "Your Mistress is your teacher, your mentor, your guide forever. Even when you become a full-time Maiden, you are free to go to them, ask for their help or opinion. That being said, they are very overworked and try very hard to assist as many trainees as they can. Please, be patient and respectful to your Mistresses." Laurent spent a moment to shift her gaze to each and every one of us trainees, making sure we understood. Only after this did she pull out a long piece of paper and begin reading off assignments.

"Margarethe Lavoie to Mistress Amadine Aubert. Farrah Monet to Mistress Verity Basque." The list went on and on, Dahlia and Gabby left me for their Mistresses. And just like the first time Laurent had read out names, she read mine out last, her eyes locking with mine. A small smile played on her wizened lips. "Irène Auguste to Mistress Hélène Blanchette." There was only one woman who was left out in the line of Maidens. She was a small thing, petite with thin arms. Her tunics were too large for her, yet she pulled it off beautifully. She seemed to be the youngest of the Maiden Mistresses, yet she gave me a large smile, pushing her wired glasses up on the bridge of her nose.

"Miss Auguste?"

Though I wanted no part of this training, though all I wanted was to explore the palace, this city, all the innovations, I decided to humor her. I let myself smile for her. "Please, call me Irène, Mistress Hélène."

The woman's eyes brightened. She clapped her hands. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, wonderful! We'll get along perfectly, I know it." She beamed, and I couldn't help but return the expression. There was no denying it, positivity was contagious. "Please, call me Hélène." She looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed. "I-I'm not actually old enough to be a Mistress, but I am the only one with an ability close enough to yours."

I scrunched up my brows. I didn't even know which ability I possessed, how did Hélène? And was it really so rare? "What ability do you have?"

She tipped her head to the side slightly. She reminded me deeply of the family dog that we'd had until I was nine. "I'm a windweaver." She said it simply, as if such an ability couldn't change a farmer's life forever. As if such an ability was common. "There are many, many windweavers," Hélène clarified quickly. "But I see things differently." She was practically mumbling now. "Like a tapestry. Life is like that too."

"Oh." The word escaped from my lips by accident and Hélène looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to connect. I cleared my throat. "Oh, um. So will we be starting..." I chose a station at random on the training floor. "There?" The place I'd pointed to was a fighting ring, where I could see Dahlia and her Mistress, a stooped older Maiden, were headed.

Hélène wrinkled her nose at the ring. "No, no, no. We will not work much in here." She shook her head for extra emphasis. "We will work in my room, come." She beckoned to me, and I followed her across the training hall floor to the private rooms where those with more specific, small abilities could work in peace. My Mistress walked through the hallway, reaching the last door before she turned. "Here."

We both enter, and I find myself in a bare room with white walls and white furniture. There was only a speck of colour in the entire thing, a half-finished tapestry of wool depicting someone who looked a lot like Hélène sitting under the sun. "Sit down, Irène." She took to a chair on one side of the tapestry, and I sat on the other. "You are a speaker, Irène." She said this with the most confidence that I'd ever seen on her, as if I should know what that means, as if I could affirm it. "You have immense power, just waiting beneath the surface for you to use it. But accessing that will take lots of preparation first."

Hélène looked at me. Seeming to realise that I might not know exactly what a speaker was, she giggled a little. "Oh, sorry. No one really told me how to do this." She took a breath and began again. "You are a speaker, Irène. You can control people with your voice. As long as you know the result of what you're asking someone to do, you know the consequences, you can make someone do whatever you wish. Do you see what I meant by immense power?"

I heard her question, I wanted to nod, to confirm that I more than saw what she meant, I understood it deeply. But my body had descended into some sort of temporary shock, and my expression no doubt mirrored my dumbfounded interior. You can control people with your voice. How was it possible that I had all this power sitting within me for years? I'd known I would be powerful-- my beauty was more than average-- but to be gifted with abilities like this? I'd never even dreamed it possible.

"Irène?" Hélène's voice broke the stupor. She placed a careful hand on my shoulder and gave me a knowing look. "This is a lot. I know, but that is what the Army does. It gives a home to girls like us, impossible girls." She smiled, then gestured at the tapestry. "Now, do you know anything about weaving by hand?"

I blinked. Mama had been the creative one in our house, excelling in everything a proper woman should. She hand sewed dresses with incredible speed and style, her embroidery was the talk of the village, and her weaving was top-notch as well. While my mother had tried to get me to learn the feminine talents as well, I'd always been more attracted to the boyish pastimes, from climbing trees to riding horses. Who knew that my future as a Maiden required learning the art of the loom? "Um, a little?"

"Oh, then we'll start there." Hélène let out a grin. She picked up two needles before handing one over to me. "Now, you know the general back-and-forth pattern, yes?"

Before I could fully figure out what I'd gotten myself into, a full-on weaving lesson had begun, with Hélène animatedly explaining every little detail.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Dahlia and I met up for lunch, though Gabby was nowhere in sight. We weren't surprised, with the amount of women in the cafeteria that had affectionately been nicknamed the 'Mess,' it was near impossible to find anyone. The room was larger than the training hall, with a stain glass ceiling that reflected all sorts of colours on the Maidens below. Still, there was almost no room, so Dahlia and I decided to go outside.

"Are you sure we're allowed to do this?" My voice trembled as the cool wind nipped at my face. Though Laurent and the other higher-up Maidens had never specified the rules, the trainees had automatically adopted the style of not doing anything crazy. They'd never told us anything about our restrictions on where to go, so we couldn't get in serious trouble, right?

Dahlia looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course, Irène. We are not trapped as animals." She grinned before plopping down on the grass with no heed for the exquisite blue gown made of fine silk that she wore. In her arms, she held a basket with food for us both. Hesitantly, I sat down next to her.

We unpacked the basket together, surprised to find that the chiefs had spent time to pack everything neatly. In two separate containers was a perfect meal, tomato soup, fried rice with sweet potato sauce, and miniature fruit cakes. We ate together in comfortable silence, our eyes closed as we enjoyed the harsh late fall weather. Lyssea wasn't always like this, but the time during the change of seasons was always unpredictable, with some days being full of rain and gloom, while other days held clear skies and lots of sun.

"How is your training going along?" Dahlia asked eventually. "Mistress Yvonne is severe. She's older, probably in her sixties or seventies, but she's a fighter." She cracked a smile, thinking back to her first lesson today. "I think I'm going to learn a lot from her."

I hesitated. Hélène had taught me next to nothing about my ability, choosing instead to go over simple arts and crafts like tapestry weaving. As if that would help in my eventual learning to control people. But the woman had seemed sweet, and I didn't want to say anything bad about her, even to Dahlia. "It's going well. Hélène is nervous, she's not actually old enough to be a Mistress, but she teaches well." Even if all she teaches is tapestry weaving.

"That's--" Dahlia cut herself off as she spotted something behind me. I turned to find a boy, around our age. He had black hair, curly and loose, with caramel skin and brown eyes that were wide with shock.

His legs were about to take another step towards us when his eyes landed on us, sitting there with our lunch. His forehead wrinkled with confusion. "Um... who are you?" His voice was not what I'd expected from a gangly boy with mussed hair. It was confident and sure, smooth and heavy, like honey.

Dahlia smiled, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn't place. "Dahlia Floquet, and this is Irène Auguste. We are of the Maiden Army." There was something she wasn't saying, I knew it, but what it was confused me.

I was about to open my mouth, ready to ask her, when the boy spoke. "Oh. I'm... I'm Nicolas. Nicolas Lemieux, the stablehand's son." He offered us a smile, small and hesitant.

The light in Dahlia's eyes was gone in an instant, and I wondered what he'd said to make whatever emotion she was feeling leave her. Dahlia seemed to be enjoying her time as a Maiden, to be loving it even. Surely she wasn't looking for a wealthy noble boy to fall in love with, to marry?

"Wonderful to meet you, Nicolas." I gestured to the ground next to me. "Would you like to join us for our lunch?" There wasn't much left, just a little of Dahlia's soup and some of my fried rice, but the offering was what counted.

The boy's eyes reached mine for the first time, and I watched, amused, as he did a double take. Many over the years had been surprised by my beauty, my grace, my ethereal splendor-- whatever they deigned to call it, boon or witchcraft. I was used to the reaction, but after spending so much time with women with features as gifted as mine, it was funny to see the comically wide eyes, the appreciative set of his mouth, the immediate change in gait.

"You- you're... you're gorgeous." I laughed, waiting to see if he would call me the goddess divine as well.

Meanwhile, Dahlia next to me seethed with play-anger. She, too, was gorgeous, her features giving her a more rugged attraction. But Nicolas had said nothing when he'd seen her. "Hello? I'm here too, you know."

He blinked, looking over at her as if in a daze. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, miss. I just..." He looked back over at me, then physically pulled his gaze back over to Dahlia. "You're beautiful as well."

I shook with silent laughter. "It's quite alright, Nicolas. I'm much used to the reaction." I got up, walking over to him. He wore a heavily embroidered green tunic, with trousers the colour of storm clouds. "Do stablehands make enough money to buy you clothing like this?" It was fine, definitely made of the sort of silk even my merchant of a father could not have afforded. How was it possible that a man who tended to the king's horses for a living made more?

He blushed scarlet, his eyes never leaving my own, though he did rub a self-conscious hand over his front. "Uh, I- it was a gift, from the crown prince." He hesitated, then gave me a small smile. "He's my friend."

I nodded appreciatively. If a prince chose to spend time with this boy, then he must be worth knowing. Even if he did look as if he'd walked right out of his bedroom as soon as he'd woken up. "Interesting."

Dahlia stood next to me now. She must've gotten up at some point during our little exchange. She looked Nicolas in the eyes deeply, before looking down at our lunch remains. "Hm, how about you join us for lunch tomorrow? Here?" The boy hesitated, but she stepped closer. "Oh, please don't refuse, we'd love to have your company."

I raised a brow. We would? But Dahlia was one of my only friends in the Army, so I wouldn't go against her. Perhaps I was wrong, and she had a thing for tall, gangly boys with messy hair.

Nicolas blinked several times, as if trying to figure out whether he was going to be stuck in some sort of trap. Then, deciding that he liked this idea, he nodded. "O- of course, miss."

And just like that, our plans to have lunch in the palace courtyard every day solidified.

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