“They claim to be new recruits, sent by Captain Rylan Baine,” Brun explained. He jerked a thumb in my direction. “This one here says she’s his niece.”
Captain Milios’s dark gaze snapped to mine. “Name?”
“Mika Baine.”
“And the others?”
“I’m Felix –” Fenris began.
“Was I speaking to you?” the Captain snapped. He didn’t even bother to look at Fenris, his hard glare fixed on me like an arrow from a well-trained archer.
“No –,”
“Then shut up.” He arched his brows at me. “What are their names?”
Fenris’s lips pressed together so hard I thought he would swallow them, and I had to force myself not to laugh at the look of outrage burning in his eyes. He very clearly wasn’t used to being a subordinate. “Felix Lamos and Anaris Maren.”
“I’ve met Baine once,” Milios said, his tone implying that he was not one of Rylan’s fans. “He didn’t mention a niece called Mika.”
I snorted. “I bet you didn’t mention any of your relatives to him either. Or do the members of the Resistance like to sit around and talk about their families?” I knew he was bluffing, trying to jab holes into my story, and I wasn’t going to let him.
Captain Milios’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t like your tone, shifter. And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it,” I said boldly. “Just ask Rylan. He’ll vouch.”
The Captain stared at us for a long moment, his dark eyes glittering. “I’ll send him a message to verify your story,” he said. “In the meantime, the three of you can do grunt work around here and earn your keep.” He turned toward Brun. “Sergeant, assign these three quarters and put them to work. I want eyes on them at all times. They are not to leave the camp under any circumstances, and they are not allowed near the prisoners.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
“Grunt work?” Fenris seethed as we followed the sergeant outside. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had to do something as menial as grunt work!”
“Welcome to the life of an apprentice,” I told him, and with great effort managed to keep a straight face as Brun unwittingly led us into our new lives as undercover operatives.
After having our belongings thoroughly searched, Sergeant Brun showed us to our quarters. West of the main street were two rows of houses, mostly too dilapidated for use, but ten or so that were useable had been converted into makeshift quarters. The sergeant knocked on a door, and we stood outside the false-fronted cabin for at least a minute before it was yanked open by an orange-eyed shifter. His skin was the color of heavily-creamed coffee, and his thick, dark hair and rounded nose indicated Sandian descent.
“Sergeant.” The tiger shifter saluted, and his dark brows furrowed as he took us in. “How can I help you?”
“We’ve got newcomers, and I’m assigning one of them to your barracks.” Sergeant Brun motioned Fenris forward. “Recruit, this is Private Faresh Malara. Private, this is Felix Lamos, who is here on probation. Show him around and get him settled, then bring him to the mess hall for lunch.”
“How much do you want to bet this is Daresh’s brother?” I asked Fenris as unease shifted through my stomach.
“I would be willing to put significant coin down on that.” Fenris didn’t look my way, but I could sense his own discomfort. “I can only hope that he never finds his brother, at least not until we are gone.”
“Yes, sir.” Faresh saluted, then led Fenris into the house. I cursed silently as I watched them disappear, wishing that I’d slit Daresh’s throat after all. The last thing I needed was Fenris being killed in his sleep for revenge.
We’re just going to have to get out of here fast, I told myself as we followed Sergeant Brun through the rows of houses.
He stopped at a small, single-story shack at the end of one of the rows. There was no porch or false front, and the windows were boarded up, but the siding looked okay and I didn’t see any obvious holes in the roof. I waited for the sergeant to knock on the door, but instead he opened it and walked right inside.
Annia and I exchanged a glance, then hurried inside after him. Peering into the dim interior, which was lit only by the rays of light seeping through the cracks of the boarded-up windows, I saw that it was a single-room dwelling, with two cots set up on opposite sides of the room, two chests, and two small, rough-hewn tables that held oil lamps waiting to be lit.
“Since you two are the only women here, you’re getting your own space,” the sergeant said, and he didn’t sound too happy about it. “Women are born troublemakers, especially shifter females.” He sent me a disapproving look. “I don’t care who sleeps in which bed, but I expect you to keep it clean. There are two working outhouses in the area, one behind the barrack three houses down from you, and there’s a well not too far from here where you can fetch water for sponge baths.” He pointed to a rusty bucket.
“Yes sir,” Annia and I both said. I fought against the urge to wrinkle my nose at the idea of going without a bath or shower for months on end – the sergeant would gleefully pounce on any opportunity to point out that a female like me was too pampered to be a soldier.
“You won’t be getting uniforms until the Captain can verify your story, but later on today you can stop by the supply station and pick up basic toiletries. I’ll make sure some are set aside for you.”