Free Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) by March McCarron Page A

Philosophy library, a small, round den of books near the cliffs. Bray chewed on her lip and gazed out the window. She could see straight out to the horizon, the sea glittering with morning sun.
    “I think our best shot lies up here,” Roldon said, pushing his brown curls from his eyes.  
    “Nah, B team took up there yesterday,” Peer said.
    Roldon’s shoulders slumped. “Yes…yes, you’re right.”
    “I say still,” Adearre’s musical voice sounded from behind a bookcase, “that we should stay mobile.”
    Roldon smoothed the map with his hands, pressing it flatter to the table. “We already tried that—it was an utter disaster. No, a good concealing location is best.”
    “Besides, I’d hold you back,” Ko-Jin said.  
    Bray shot him an annoyed look. “How many times do I have to tell you? Our team is stronger with you. We’d have been out in the first ten minutes yesterday without your quick thinking.”  
    Ko-Jin smiled thankfully at her.
    “Why don’t you get your great brain over here? Help us choose a spot,” Peer said, moving to make a spot for the Chaskuan boy.
    “Hey now,” Ko-Jin said, rising awkwardly from his chair. “I’m more than just a brain. What I lack in foot speed I make up in upper body strength.” He raised one bone-thin arm and flexed, winking at Bray, then turned to the map.
    “The real problem is me,” Arlow said, his bruised face morose. “I’m famed for my atrocious luck. Always have been.”  
    “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Roldon said. “It’s tactics we need.”
    Bray smiled. The game—Smugglers and Scrutineers—had, in the week since their first round down by the beach, become a serious business. They played every morning, and with such a sizable group and wide, interesting landscape, it had reached an impressive scale. Bray lived for the game, as did they all, for the simple reason that it served as a distraction. A distraction from the testing, the pain, the failure and humiliation.  
    Roldon removed the quartz paperweight from his pocket and placed it on the table reverently, as if it were really the diamond they purported it to be.
    “Here’s what I think,” Ko-Jin said, his brows drawn together in concentration. “We hide it in the foliage here.” He pointed at the map. “It’s got good visibility but a limited entrance. Peer and Adearre will serve as runners again. Bray and I will act as lookouts in one of these trees.” He looked over at her. “Do you think you could help me up again?” Bray nodded. “Roldon and Arlow scout. I’m willing to bet B team will be up in this area again.” He ran his fingers along the lake. “C team is less predictable.”  
    Roldon shook his head and whistled. “You should have been a general, Ko-Jin.”
    “There hasn’t been a war in over two hundred years. Generals are forgotten things these days.”  
    Ko-Jin rolled up the map and handed it to Roldon.  
    “Is it all settled, then?” Arlow asked. “Truthfully, I could really use a win today…”
    “We all could, mate,” Peer said, clapping Arlow on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
    They left the library and hurried, keeping low to the ground, to their selected location. The Temple grounds sprawled, massive and winding. It was easy enough to get lost. Playing the game for the past week had familiarized them better than any tour could have, but they still found themselves easily turned around. As they approached the Cosanta portion of the Temple, Bray crouched lower still, careful to keep out of sight. The Chisanta didn’t seem to mind what the plebes did, as long as they stayed out of the way.  
    “Hey,” Arlow whispered, halting and peering between two shrubs. “It’s Yarrow.”
    Bray shifted a clump of bushes and peeked into the opening. Yarrow hunkered beneath the shade of a tree. He wore long emerald green robes and sat near several Cosanta in their mid-twenties. The others carried on an animated conversation, but Yarrow did not