She stared back. "Yes, sir."
They stood like that for a moment before he looked down to her collarbones. "Females are rare," he said softly.
"Yes, sir. So I've been told."
With a nod, he dismissed her, but his mouth twisted almost up. Had she done something amusing? Unwilling to become the brunt of his joke, Sal turned for her marked spot and dropped her pack in the allocated square. That bag contained all of her worldly possessions. It wasn't much – but was more than she'd had as a slave. Step by step, she could do this. Slave to soldier, soldier to elite. She'd get there. Maybe the Corporal's almost-smile meant she had a chance? She turned to see the Black Blades better, hoping for some hint.
The lithe man had returned to the group and leaned beside a tall, nearly black-skinned human. Their mouths were still but both men looked right at her. Instinctually, her chin jerked up, making the human's mouth break into a grin. Under her cap, Sal's ears flicked back, but with them hidden from view, she made no effort to stop it. Then the larger man lowered his eyes. The blue ones still watched.
Sal turned her gaze onto the smaller man, shocked when his eyes dropped to the ground immediately. Did they realize what they'd done? Of course not. Humans didn't understand. They stared in her eyes or avoided looking at her as it pleased them. While she mentally chided herself for being foolish, another Black Blade joined them, but this one halted her mental diatribe.
His hair was gold and long. He was taller than the soldier who took her papers, but not by much. The black man towered over both of them, but this new man's coloration marked him as a crossbred. No one had hair that shade without iliran ancestry. It wasn't blonde; the color was too yellow. When he leaned beside the lithe Corporal, Sal knew she was right. The new guy's eyes were amber, and they never met hers.
It was hard not to smile, but she wasn't about to show her teeth. She didn't need to be accused of snarling at a superior officer. At least now she had hope. If they'd take such an obvious crossbred, then maybe she actually had a chance?
Wrenching her eyes away, the smile finally won. That one thought was enough to distract her from the scent of humans clustering around her. Each minute, more came, filling in the grid of numbers until there were no empty spaces left. It didn't take long. Their arrival time had been clearly noted and none of them wanted to be late for this chance.
A bag hit the ground beside her, making her ears flick, but she refused to look. By the scent of his emotions, the recruit had noticed her. Fear and disgust were always distinct. Sal kept her eyes locked on the hard-packed dirt. She wasn't here to make friends, not with her competition at any rate. She just had to make a good impression.
"Hey Odi," the soldier hissed loudly.
"What?" This came from a guy in the row before her.
"You see this shit?" The man in spot 10 chuckled. "Guess they're hard up for recruits this time."
Around her, the gravel crunched as men turned to stare. Sal didn't move. Humans had gawked at her for as long as she could remember. Keeping her face calm, she reminded herself that she was a soldier whether they liked it or not. All soldiers – both conscripts and volunteers – had the right to apply for special operations with the elite units after two years of service. Sal had served three. There was no reason for the Black Blades to excuse her, and the opinions of these men didn't matter.
"You scared she'll beat you out of the running, Bardus?" Odi asked.
"Fuck that." The man beside her stepped closer. "Hey, bitch? You bite me, and I'll send your ass to the kennels, got it?"
Sal blinked slowly, but that was the only reaction he got.
"Too fuckin' stupid to even speak Glish," Bardus grumbled, making a few men around them chuckle.
Before things could escalate, the Black Blades suddenly called out, "Atten-tion!" making the two syllables into distinct words.
Sal snapped into position with the other candidates, glad for the distraction as the Lieutenant cantered through the gate toward them. Dramatically, he spun his horse to a halt. It pawed, and he patted its neck then dismounted. One of the Blades – the dark skinned man – stood ready to hold the animal for his commanding officer.
The Lieutenant made an impressive sight. Custom resin armor covered him from his feet all the way up. The dark material soaked up daylight, turning him into a walking shadow. At his back, a quiver full of arrows peeked over his right shoulder, an acrylic sword over the left, and a strange set of tubes were strapped to his leg. Reaching up to his throat, he unfastened his helm and peeled it from his head.
Smoldering eyes looked over each soldier before him, both applicants and elites alike. While the Blades met his gaze with a smile or a nod, the recruits seemed to melt under his pale green stare. Sal felt the weight of it. His face didn't have a single sign of age or any scars to mar the angular beauty. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his waist had to be trim to fit behind that tight plackart. When he got to her, he paused, lingering in his inspection.
Sal felt like a weed in the garden.
"Welcome, applicants," he said, moving on to the next man. "I know all of you are excited to show your strengths and prove that you are made for the Black Blades, but I want to make one thing clear. I do not owe any of you a position in my outfit. I will not take anyone that is not a good fit with my Blades. I chose you all because I hope to find one of you that will be what we need, but I have refused entire groups before, and I'm not afraid to do it again. A weak link is more likely to kill us than help us. None of you is guaranteed a position."
As he spoke, the Lieutenant walked through the ranks, addressing his comments to all of them yet none of them. "The first row will go with Razor, the second with Shift, and the last with Arctic." He gestured at the men as he named them. "The officers will assign barracks for the duration of our trials and a time for me to speak with each of you privately. You may be at ease."
Then he turned to retrieve his horse, leading the animal away while a dusky man stepped forward. Their eyes naturally turned to him.
"I am Sergeant Dico," he said. "Call sign: Razor. Please place your baggage in the wagon being brought up behind you, in the space corresponding to the number you're standing on. We'll have your luggage moved to your cabins. Once your items are stored, make your way to your assigned officer, post-haste."
The applicants began to scramble. They grabbed their bags and tossed them into the wagon before the horses were even fully stopped, with little care for the marked boxes they shoved out of alignment. The others were all men, most of them large men. At half their weight, Sal would never force her way through, so she waited, amused at their impatience.
That's when Bardus turned his attention back to her. "Just take that shit home, bitch. We don't need your type thinking they're worthy of elite ops."
"I thought the females were just myths," Odi said, his eyes roaming across her small body. "Maybe we shouldn't run her out quite yet. Heard they have tricks."
She was tired of being treated like she was too stupid to understand the insult. "I'll leave when the Black Blades dismiss me," Sal said, glancing at his shoulder, adding, "sir."
"A fucking iliri? You're joking, right?"
She slid her bag into the proper spot, then turned to find her assigned officer.
"I didn't dismiss you yet, Private!"
She stopped. The first man was a Lance Corporal, the second a Specialist. Both outranked her. "Sir, I've been ordered to report."
"Fuck your bleached ass. You can just stand there a bit." Lance Corporal Bardus evidently thought she had to obey.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the Sergeant's orders override yours." Sal tried not to smile as she leaned toward him. "You both should be reporting to your assigned officer as well." The words were barely out of her mouth and she knew she'd gone too far.
Bardus backhanded her across the mouth, making her head snap back. Sal growled, her muscles tensing as her eyes found him. She was a conscript; he had the right, she reminded herself. Then he hit her again. His fist slammed into her temple, and the ground came up fast.
"Don't you dare bite me!" he yelled.
Her tongue flicked out, tasting the blood on her lip as her eyes found her prey. The growl rumbled, growing louder, and her lips pulled back a split second before she lunged. How dare he touch her! She'd make the bastard pay. He was too weak and slow to evade her, and his throat was begging for her teeth. She pushed hard, intending to knock him to the ground, but a pair of strong arms caught her, yanking her back. The scent of a Black Blade wrenched her out of her frenzy, reminding her why she was here. It was the same elite who'd checked her papers.
