Read Online Steel Scars by Victoria Aveyard - Free Book Online

point within the hour. Understood?”
    Their heads bob in taut unison, their eyes alive, bright, and eager.
    A few blocks away, a clock tower chimes nine times. I move without thought, stepping through my Guardsmen as they fall in line behind me. Tristan and Rasha are the last to stand. My lieutenant looks bare without his rifle, but I know there’s a pistol on him somewhere, probably collecting sweat at the base of his back.
    We head into the street, a main avenue through the Red sector of the city. Safe for now, surrounded by nothing more than Red homes and businesses, with few if any Silver officers to watch us pass. As in Harbor Bay, Rocasta maintains its own Red Watch, to protect what Silvers won’t. Though we’re heading for the same place, my team splits into their pairs, putting space between us. Can’t exactly rove into the city center looking like a jumped-up assault squad, let alone a gang. Tristan keeps close again, letting me lead us to our destination—the Iron Road. As in Corvium, the Road bisects Rocasta, driving right through its heart like river through valley. As we get closer to the main thoroughfare, traffic picks up. Late servants hurrying to the homes of their masters, volunteer watchmen returning from their night posts,parents hustling their children to ramshackle schools.
    And of course, more officers with every passing street. Their uniforms, black with silver trim, are severe in the harsh sun of late spring, as are the gleaming guns and clubs at their waists. Funny, they feel the need to wear uniforms, as if they’re at risk of being mistaken for Red. One of us. Not a chance . Their skin, undershot with blue and gray, leached of everything alive, is distinguishing enough. There is no Red on earth so cold as a Silver.
    Ten yards ahead of us, Rasha stops so quickly her partner, Martenson, almost trips over her. No mean feat, considering she has about six inches on the graying Little Papa. Next to me, Tristan tenses, but doesn’t break formation. He knows the rules. Nothing is above the Guard, not even affection.
    The Silver legionnaires drag a boy by the arms. His feet kick at open air. He’s small, looking young for eighteen. I doubt he needs to shave. I do my best to block out the sound of his begging, but his mother’s wail cannot be ignored. She follows, two more children on her heels, with a solemn father trailing behind. Her hands clutch at her son’s shirt, offering one last bout of resistance to his conscription.
    The street seems to hold its breath as one, watching the familiar tragedy.
    A crack echoes and she falls backward, clutching a bruising cheek. The legionnaire didn’t even lift a finger or even look up from his grim work. He must be a telkie and used his abilities to swat the woman away.
    â€œYou want worse?” he snaps when she moves to stand.
    â€œDon’t!” the boy says, using his last free words to beg.
    This will not last. This will not continue. This is why I’m here .
    Even so, it makes me sick to know I cannot do anything for this boyand his mother. Our plans are falling into place, but not fast enough for him. Perhaps he will survive , I tell myself. But one look at his thin arms and the eyeglasses trampled beneath a legionnaire’s foot says otherwise. The boy will die like so many others. In a trench or in a wasteland, alone at the very end.
    â€œI can’t watch this,” I mutter, and turn down another alley.
    After a long moment of strange hesitation, Tristan follows.
    I can only hope Rasha stays the course as well as he does. But I understand. She lost two sisters to Lakelander conscriptions, and fled her home before meeting the same fate.
    Rocasta is not a walled city, and has no gates to choke the ends of the Iron Road. An easy place to enter, but it makes our task a bit more difficult. The main body of the returning supply convoy comes along the Road, but a few of the walking escorts peel off,