?

  I sat in the steel chair, tapping my fingers against the wooden desk, took a deep breath, lifting my hand from the table and pressing my fingers against my temple. My head throbs with pain from the supply log under the desk—listing the food, weapons, and ammo we received for the next two months.

  I raised my head slowly, rubbing my neck. It hurts—maybe from sleeping like an amoeba.

  — They expect miracles with this scrap?

  I lifted my eyes, nding on Angelique, the one I put in charge of receiving supplies since I took over a week ago. Who knew the previous senior sve would die so fast, huh?

  She squirmed, letting out a sigh through plump red lips. Don't know how she manages to stay so pretty and rosy-cheeked in this hellhole where we're selling lunch to buy dinner.

  She ran a finger through her long red curls, biting her lip and staring at me like there was nothing she could do. My head just throbs harder—I'll be gray before the month ends. This is too stressful.

  — What? Cat got your tongue? — I stood, crossing my arms under my chest. Is she stupid or just an idiot?

  — Sergeant... It's... the King's soldiers... they wouldn't listen. — She shrank, her blue eyes darting anywhere but my face.

  — Great... Get out, go, go...

  I waved my hand, sighing, giving up on pressing her. The redhead hurried out, yanking her stupid head away from me. I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head slightly.

  I'll have to figure out how to keep the soldiers alive till month's end. Alive, at least... what a shit situation.

  The door creaked, and I turned. Who's the next idiot I'll kick out?

  — Miss me, cari?o? — He grinned with that ridiculous, forced Spanish accent, those bright blue eyes smiling at me.

  — Start barking. What do you want?

  — Ay! So cold. But straight to the point. New recruits are coming—how do you pn to welcome them?

  — More? Hell. We don't even have enough food for a month. Be grateful if we get dirt soup.

  — Angel couldn't handle it? She's too soft to face the King's soldiers.

  I rolled my eyes at the nickname slipping from his mouth, went to the desk, and yanked the document, shoving it against the big man's uniformed chest. Stared at his face—sunspots litter his skin, the pinkish white repced by dark patches. All of us, white or not, risk skin cancer baking under this sun... Things just keep getting worse.

  — See for yourself. Your dear Angel guaranteed at least four weeks of starvation for all of us. Unless we drink grass tea and eat mud cakes, of course!

  — Mm...

  He lifted the document, scanning it, and I waited till he sighed.

  — Yeah... so? What do we do with this little food? Even if we ration... sending people to the field will be tough.

  — There's probably no game left from the war, and hunting what's left in the wild won't buy much time... I'm thinking we hit one of their supply caches.

  — We have the location?

  — Of course not.

  I shrugged, taking the document back from Soren.

  — And what? Get sughtered before we even find it? Great pn... congrats.

  I frowned at his sarcasm, waving my hand.

  — If you're not helping, why not leave? Better go before I kick your ass out.

  He waved and quickly exited the tent. I sat back down, grabbing a clean sheet, brainstorming a new strategy to get our hands on enemy supplies.

  First, I drafted a letter to the King's Soldiers—that Major bitch. Wrote a beautiful supply request. Doubt they'll even read it.

  I stood and went to the messenger ship area, stuffed it inside, pressed the button on its back, and let it return to the distant military base. Turned my eyes to the new recruits—must've just turned eighteen. Watched them disembark, a young woman I vaguely remember seeing before, but can't pce where.

  Maybe she'd have been a model if the world weren't like this—bck curls just past her neck, messy, her eyes slightly wide with thick shes framing brown irises. She's slim and tall, her dark skin a stark contrast to mine—deep bck, making her even more striking at first gnce, almost glowing.

  I approached, curious. Waved gently.

  — Hi. Welcome. You'll get used to this sight from now on.

  I forced a smile. There's barely any vegetation left after six years of war. The pce is dry dirt, scorching sun, tents and soldiers everywhere—still better than trenches.

  — Thank you... — Amid the thanks, I focused on the girl, who looked exhausted up close.

  — Come. I'll take you to the tents. Rest today... it was a long trip. Later, look for Angelique, the chubby redhead.

  I waved and turned, leading them to a rge tent full of scattered sleeping mats. They didn't seem to want conversation, dead tired, just dropping wherever.

  I didn't bother either, turning and heading straight back to the ship they came from.

  — Hey. Any supplies at the base you can send? We don't have enough for the next two months.

  I spoke to one of the King's dogs. He frowned behind that ridiculous mask. Can't even breathe the same air as a mortal like me?

  — The supplies sent should be enough. — He waved me off.

  — They're not. It's too little for the number of people across bases, trenches, and fields.

  — Can't help. Not my department.

  Can't or won't.

  — It'd be shameful for our country if soldiers starved before reaching the battlefield. But if you can't help, fine.

  He hesitated, and I turned slowly. Patriotic enough to care about the country's reputation, but not if soldiers starve? Typical.

  — Wait. I'll request some extras from the first base.

  I turned and rubbed my eyes, smiling.

  — Great, thank you, sir.

  Sir my ass. What's the point of being Sergeant if I have to bow to some grunt for scraps? Pathetic. I squeezed my eyes, smile frozen as I waited.

  He smirked smugly, pulling out his military comm and tapping the screen.

  Men are stupid, regardless of css. I straightened up, and he waved.

  — Should arrive tomorrow. Now get out of my face.

  I smiled, csping my hands.

  — Thank you, sir.

  Waited for him to leave, then turned and walked off immediately. Couldn't care less about that piece of shit.