Read Hope and Red for Free Online

agony as worms ripped through his skin. But she knew she could do nothing. She was just a weak little girl. So she swallowed her anger and said, “Yes, master.”
    He sauntered over to his mat and lay down. Then he picked up a book. “Hurry back.”
    Hope carried the robe, which stank of sweat and stale beer, over to the washtub outside the kitchen. As she scrubbed the cloth hard against the ridges of the washboard, she imagined that it was Crunta’s face. As she stretched the robe across the smoldering coals in the kitchen to dry, she imagined the coals searing into Crunta’s bare chest. She knew these thoughts were wrong, but they gave her some relief. Even so, the feeling of helpless rage ate at her as she walked back across the courtyard with the robe neatly folded in her arms.
    She found him still lounging on his mat in his undergarments. She laid the robe at his feet. “Is there anything else, master?”
    He looked at her over the top of his book for a moment, then stood. Ignoring the robe, he walked over to her. He stood several feet taller than her so that her face was level with his chest. She stared at it now because she liked the look in his eye even less. She didn’t understand his gaze, but something about it made her skin crawl.
    He pushed her hood back. She watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken as she felt his hand close on a lock of her hair. Her entire body shook, though from fear or loathing, she couldn’t say.
    “Brother Crunta!”
    Hope turned her head, pulling her hair loose from Crunta’s fingers. One of the older brothers, Wentu, stood in the doorway, a frown on his lined face. “Do not stand before the girl in your undergarments! It’s indecent!”
    Crunta took a slow, leisurely step back, a smirk on his face. “Yes, brother.” He leaned over and picked up his robe, then pulled it over his head.
    His brow knit together and he pressed the cloth to his nose. “Ugh, this stinks of the kitchens! Do you want me to smell like a servant?”
    “S-s-s-sorry, master,” stammered Hope. “You wanted me to be quick, so I dried it over the coals. I didn’t—”
    He slapped her across the face again.
    “Young brother…,” said Wentu disapprovingly.
    “You’re lucky I don’t beat you senseless!” Crunta said to Hope, his fist raised. “Get out of my sight, you filthy peasant.”
    Hope ran to her straw mat in the back of the kitchen and curled up into a ball. She felt like crying, but no tears came. Only black thoughts of violence and revenge. She thought Crunta must be the cruelest brother in the monastery.
    But she hadn’t yet encountered Racklock.
    *  *  *
    Bleak Hope’s favorite job was to care for the temple. The floor, walls, and altar were all made of the smooth black rock on the island, but in this place, it had been polished to a shine that made it feel at once solemn and bright. She loved the smell of the prayer candles, which gave a hint of jasmine as they burned. Most of all, she loved the tall stained glass windows at the top of the temple. She didn’t understand the pictures they showed, strange creatures and black-armored warriors, but the colors reminded her of the necklace she had made for her father. She had supposed that she could never enjoy such things again. But there was a tiny ember that remained, and grew slightly warmer at the sight of sunlight streaming in through those colored windows.
    “So here is where you shirk your duties,” came a deep voice.
    Hope tore her gaze from the windows and looked at the short, powerfully built brother known as Racklock. He stood with his arms folded, his face hard. Hope knew Racklock was second in the order only to Hurlo, and all the other brothers feared him.
    “It’s my duty to clean the temple every day, master,” said Hope.
    “I saw no cleaning.” Racklock took a step toward her. “Only idling. We feed you, clothe you, give you a place when the world surely would have been rid of you. And this is how you