Free Reckoning by Kerry Wilkinson Page B

this moment to get his revenge and grasp around for Wray. I take his hand more for my own comfort than his, before the lights sputter back to life. I glance around the room but Rush is still in the same seat he was before, meeting my eyes for a moment and then looking away.
    The door swishes open and someone, who I first assume to be a Kingsman, strides in. It is only when I take a second glance that I realise the man in front of me is the Minister Prime. Everything I have seen of him on screen is nothing compared to the way he looks in real life. He towers over everyone and even if Opie was here, he would barely reach the man’s shoulders. From where I am sitting, my eyes are level with his thighs, which seem broader than my waist. He is wearing thick dark gloves, his hands as big as the plates we eat from at home and, although his uniform is nearly the same as a regular Kingsman’s, it seems lighter and sleeker, almost absorbing the overhead light, instead of reflecting it. His eyes skim quickly around the cabin, taking us all in briefly before he rocks back onto his heels.
    â€˜You will all now be shown to your quarters,’ he says. His voice is deep and brimming with authority as he points to the side I am sitting on, and then indicates the other side. ‘Girls with her, boys over there. This evening there will be a banquet where you will be formally introduced to the King as his Offerings.’
    After another glimpse around, he turns and thunders back out of the carriage, his boots echoing loudly. As he leaves, the other girls hover around me, as Wray nervously crosses to the other side. He catches my eye and I give him a gentle nod to let him know I will see him later. Two Kingsmen enter and, without speaking, one of them flashes a hand in our direction, telling us to follow him. I am at the front as the two Elite girls fall in line behind me. I make one final glance towards Wray, who is at the back of the five boys, as we exit the carriage and step onto a stone platform.
    The Kingsman’s pace is quick and I feel slightly restricted in the dress, although not as much as the female Elite whose sparkling silver gown is even tighter and more elaborate than mine. Jela is almost running to keep pace. Pietra doesn’t speak but I can hear her footsteps behind me.
    The train must have stopped under the castle as we are led up a winding set of stone steps and I feel the temperature rising. The stairs open onto a corridor lit by rows of what I first think are candles, before I realise they have small flame-shaped light bulbs on top of white stems. The Kingsman doesn’t stop, turning left out of the passage, but I pause to look in both directions. The walls are grey and made of solid-looking thick stone and there is a deep red carpet on the floor. The candle lights stretch as far into the distance, leaving me to wonder how much power they have here compared to Martindale. I catch up with the Kingsman before he can turn to look for us. I try to remember the route back to the top of the stairway, but quickly lose track of the tight twists and turns. In the top corners of many of the corridors and stairways are small cameras attached to the ceiling with blinking lights underneath. Some of them swivel to follow our route, adding to my unease.
    Eventually, the Kingsman pushes through a heavy wooden door and leads us into a large room where the luxury is unlike anything I have ever encountered. The carpet is thick and bouncy and there are beds twice the width of mine at home placed around the edge. We step inside as the door bangs loudly closed behind us. Four girls are already in the room and one of them tells us they are from the South. I stand in the centre, wondering if any of the beds have been assigned. Pietra and Jela are already sitting on beds next to each other, close to the others. Something about the way the door closed didn’t sound right, so I try the handle but it is instantly clear we are