It has been three days since our return to the half-empty Legion. Stirling and I have had very few moments alone since then, with Briggs doubling drills for the remaining soldiers, and doubling chores for us. I have cleaned the kitchens so often that a new layer of shiny red skin has replaced the pale brown of my fingertips. Stirling and I are mopping the canteen floor when he whispers his insane question in my ear. “Leaving?” I repeat. “Why would you be leaving tomorrow? You’ve only got two weeks before they let you go anyway.” “You never answer a question straight,” Stirling gripes. “Just tell me. If I had a way to get out of here tomorrow, would you want to come with me?” I know the obvious answer, the one that’s yanking at my heart and waiting to be screamed in reply. After seeing what the Legion has done to its most prized soldiers, I know that my chances of surviving here much longer are getting slim. “I hate it here,” I admit, “but where would we go if we escaped?
