{"id":16079,"date":"2022-11-22T19:11:01","date_gmt":"2022-11-22T19:11:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.yayserver.com\/jessicaconoley\/?p=16079"},"modified":"2022-12-15T23:29:25","modified_gmt":"2022-12-15T23:29:25","slug":"the-color-eater-first-chapter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/yayserver.com\/jessicaconoley\/the-color-eater-first-chapter\/","title":{"rendered":"The Color Eater – First Chapter"},"content":{"rendered":"

Olena Burnwhite is the last known\u00a0color\u00a0eater: a rare atypical human whose touch draws energy out of organic matter, draining it of\u00a0color.<\/em><\/h3>\n

Separated from her father as a kid, Lena knows next to nothing about her atypical gift, except that it\u2019s put a target on her back. The Rada\u2014a shadowy police state\u2014are determined to cull atyps from the general population and lock them away in Korvidian, their top-secret prison. These days, most of Lena\u2019s typ neighbors would turn her over for a little electricity or a hot meal. With nowhere to turn, when the Rada launch a series of rigged trials against each group of atyps\u2014starting with\u00a0color\u00a0eaters\u2014Lena seizes the chance to get some answers. But an explosive demonstration of her gift shocks the court, and she is sentenced to life in Korvidian.<\/em><\/p>\n

In Korvidian, Lena is suddenly surrounded by atyps. There\u2019s Magda, a shifter with attitude to spare who might be a spy; Will, a bearer disowned by his Rada-scientist parents; and Ori, the edgy leader of the seers who can\u2019t stand her. As she looks for answers about her past, she realizes the Rada\u2019s twisted propaganda hides dark secrets\u2014and no prisoner is left unscarred. With tensions rising inside the prison, Lena is pushed to the limit to save her friends and must find her place in a fight where she could be the most powerful weapon of all.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 1<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWanna go to a witch trial?\u201d My voice comes out jagged, cut by heavy breath, as I collapse into a chair across from the man reading the Glenvale Gazette. <\/em><\/p>\n

A shrill whistle pierces the calm of Glenvale\u2019s town square as the diner lowers his newspaper to meet my gaze. Black hair fades to gray over the tops of his ears, and the spectacles he wears do little to mask the tell-tale gray film over his dark eyes. He seems indifferent to me crashing his al fresco lunch, as if strange girls one-third his age often take a seat across from him uninvited. The only indication of surprise on his craggy face is where his left eyebrow hovers a bit higher than his right when he finally answers my question. \u201cWhose?\u201d<\/p>\n

Leaning forward, I tap the large photo above the fold. It\u2019s the same picture they\u2019ve been running for four years. A girl in her early-teens with an angular jaw and large cat-shaped eyes stares at the reader, long black hair framing a face as pale as the paper beneath the print. Her height is noted at sixteen hands, and bold typeface screams Wanted<\/em> above her head.\u00a0 They quit posting the particulars of her \u201clast known whereabouts\u201d a year and a half ago, but they still make room for \u201cimminent threat\u201d and \u201cmoral imperative to report sightings immediately by order of the Rada.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s extremely difficult to hold a trial without someone to try.\u201d His clipped Outlander accent sounds faint against the scream of a spooked horse. I try to glimpse a view outside the caf\u00e9\u2019s wrought-iron fence. A cart blocks any useful information, but the air feels heavy with the presence of Rada soldiers. Street vendors lug their wares over the cobblestone roads onto deserted side streets to avoid the impending interrogations. A boy dressed in drab broadcloth dashes towards an alley. A few days ago, I would have been right behind him.<\/p>\n

Across the table from me, the diner holds up his paper and reviews the day\u2019s headlines: Rada Readies for Atypical Trials; Nevile Fano Hearing Schedule Released! Last of the Color Eaters Called to Court; Ilterior Forces Amass\u2014Are These the Last Days of the Unified Front? <\/em>His gaze keeps returning to the Wanted girl\u2019s photo. \u201cOlena Burnwhite hasn\u2019t been seen in years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe goes by Lena,\u201d I say. The cart finally moves, revealing two soldiers headed into the apothecary shop in the northwest corner\u2014the start of a standard sweep.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe papers always refer to her as Olena.\u201d He folds his paper, setting it onto the table next to his coffee cup.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, obviously they\u2019ve never spoken with anyone who really knows her then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you have?\u201d His tone confirms he has moved beyond incredulity into the realm of amusement. He raises the steaming cup to his lips.<\/p>\n

I stare straight into his cloudy eyes and give him time to mentally erase the dark circles from under my emerald eyes, revise my close-cropped bob to the outdated haircut in the photo, clean the layer of dirt coating my skin, and flesh out my frame with an extra ten pounds.<\/p>\n

He chokes on his coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cPleasure to finally meet you, Ambassador Merrigold.\u201d My voice drops. \u201cIt\u2019s nice to finally put a face to all those stories Dad used to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Burnwhite,\u201d he says. \u201cThe honor\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

I scan the square once more. Two soldiers perform door-to-door sweeps of the first-floor shops and the living quarters that top the two-story stone structures; four specialists scope us out from the steeply peaked roofline. The Rada must really want me out of the picture before that court date, but, for once in my life, bureaucratic rules might actually work in my favor\u2014only an idiot would attempt to arrest me in a neutral zone in front of witnesses.\u00a0 \u201cAmbassador, may I join you for lunch?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me Bertram.\u201d He waves to the proprietor through the large plate-glass window. \u201cThis caf\u00e9 has the best madrogan in town.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smile. \u201cI can\u2019t even remember the last time I had madrogan.\u201d\u00a0 Or anything else that was served on a proper plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, today we shall have it, and anything else you would like.\u201d<\/p>\n

The letter in my pocket crunches as I relax into the caf\u00e9 chair. I set my pack on the ground between my feet and watch the specialists watching me. I should have known the neutral zone wouldn\u2019t keep me out of the Rada\u2019s hands. But if they are dumb enough to drag me into custody, I\u2019m eating first. \u201cDo you have a menu?\u201d<\/p>\n

…<\/strong><\/p>\n

Figs stuffed with goat cheese, dipped in a dark purple glaze, are set before us by a stiff-faced lelsh. Hunger overpowers civility, and I cram one of the figs into my mouth before our server has left the patio. Murmurs of contentment slip past my lips as the gritty flesh of the fig melts into the smooth, tangy cheese.<\/p>\n

Bertram takes the smallest fruit on the earthenware plate and kindly waits for me to devour the rest of our first course before he breaks the silence. \u201cI didn\u2019t realize the Rada were letting lelsh outside the Unified Front these days. When I was a boy, there were no such\u2026\u201d He sighs. \u201cCreatures.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the other side of the glass, our server stands facing the pass-through to the kitchen. With his back to us he looks like a regular man, but when he turns the expression on his face is benign and immobile, his eyes focused on nothing and everything at once. This lelsh appears to be strong\u2014made for hard labor. It\u2019s an unlikely fit, his waiting tables. Perhaps he was won in a card game.<\/p>\n

\u201cLena?\u201d Bertram offers me a burgundy napkin. \u201cYou have a bit of glaze.\u201d He gestures to his lip.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d As I accept the linen, our fingers brush. \u201cYou\u2019re not worried about the things they say about me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He glances at his hand and there\u2019s a moment for him to consider the question. When he responds, his tone is gentle. \u201cYou mean that you steal the youth of children with a single touch?\u201d<\/p>\n

My face warms, and I clench my jaw.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat the earth will obey your command, and you can raze an entire village with the sound of your voice?\u201d<\/p>\n

I crush the napkin in my right hand so tight my bones strain against my skin.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat the Rada has an entire department devoted to hunting you, and you are the living embodiment of\u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

I throw the napkin on the table. \u201cNormally, I\u2019m only accused of one devilment at a time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The patio door swings open. Two steaming bowls of thick gravied beef and onion stew and a large loaf of hard-crusted bread are set on the table before us.<\/p>\n

Across the square, soldiers move on to the bakery. The baker raises his arms in protest as the authorities prod him forward. They disappear into the bowels of the gray-stone building. My heart drops.\u00a0 Would they be here if it wasn\u2019t for me?<\/p>\n

Bertram waits for the lelsh to shuffle back inside before speaking. \u201cIt\u2019s true then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d I glare at him. \u201cNot any of it. Who would hurt a child?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot those rumors.\u201d He points to my napkin. Against the deep red of the cloth, my disjointed finger and palm prints stand out stark white. The color leeched from the fabric, a negative image where nothing had been moments before. \u201cYou are what they say you are.\u201d His words are matter-of-fact. \u201cThe last living color eater.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHide that thing before you get us killed,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

The napkin disappears into Bertram\u2019s jacket pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know that I\u2019m the last living anything. Certainly not a color eater.\u201d I shovel a spoonful of stew into my mouth, \u201cSee, I\u2019m a food eater. Just plain old madrogan-eating Lena.\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughs. \u201cOf course, and I\u2019m just a man on holiday from the Outlands.\u201d His spoon hovers halfway to his mouth. \u201cWe had a color eater in my village when I was young.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me guess, somebody got the bright idea they\u2019d protect you by \u2018relocating\u2019 them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps. All I can say for certain is one day they were gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

The baker emerges at the door of his business, blood dripping from a gash in his forehead. Soldiers glower behind him.<\/p>\n

I scowl. \u201cEverywhere I go that story ends the same. \u2018One day they were gone.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not gone, Lena.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. But I\u2019m not really here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you say that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are fleeting moments when I remember what it felt like to be her.\u201d I stab my spoon at the picture of fresh-faced and clueless me on the front page of his paper, \u201cBut it\u2019s getting harder and harder to remember. It doesn\u2019t help when you\u2019re always pretending to be somebody else.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertram chews and studies me. \u201cYou\u2019ve decided it\u2019s time to stop pretending?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad always said you had a way of getting straight to the point.\u201d I take the battered envelope from my pocket and slide it across the table. \u201cYes. I\u2019m done pretending. It\u2019s time to get that girl on the front page her life back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertram reads the name I\u2019ve hastily scrawled on the paper, and for the first time since we\u2019ve met, his voice wavers. \u201cHow do you plan to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBy testifying at that ridiculous trial.\u201d My gaze cuts to the hunkered down specialists awaiting orders. \u201cAssuming I can make it to Nevile\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertram pales. \u201cThat trial is nothing but a stunt to flush you out of hiding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat. Because once I get to Nevile I\u2019m done hiding.\u201d I mop the last of the thick sauce from bottom of my bowl with a piece of bread. \u201cYou weren\u2019t lying this madrogan really is good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLena, you\u2019ve haven\u2019t thought this through. There is no way the Rada is going to let an atyp take the stand in a public trial.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf enough people see me at Nevile they have to.\u201d I lower my voice. \u201cThey can\u2019t just make me disappear like they did the other atyps. Not with all the press covering this story.\u201d<\/p>\n

Soldiers move from the bakery, bypassing the neighboring shops. Bertram glances at them, shakes his head at me. \u201cThey may let you live, but that\u2019s not a life, Lena.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither is this, Ambassador. All I do is hurt people. All the people who\u2019ve tried to help me\u2026\u201d I swallow hard, willing myself not to think about it. I push the envelope closer to him. \u201cI don\u2019t belong out here. The only place I\u2019ve ever belonged was with dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLena, your father\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, he\u2019s not. I\u2019ve just been looking in the wrong places.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertram picks up the letter addressed to Dad and tucks it in his breast pocket. \u201cHow do you propose to look for him when you\u2019re in Rada custody?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA guilty verdict should get me in to Korvidian.\u201d<\/p>\n

His expression darkens, brows furrowing together. He leans across the table close enough I can smell the Outland pine cologne on his skin. \u201cHe\u2019s not there, Lena.\u201d<\/p>\n

A look in the caf\u00e9 glass confirms the shadows on the roof moving into an attack formation. \u201cWhere else would he be?\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertram shakes his head. The staccato click of guards\u2019 boots echoes against the cobblestones, their frenzied rhythm bleeding into Bertram\u2019s rushed words.\u00a0 \u201cIf you\u2019re right. If he\u2019s there, why the letter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust in case\u2026 If I\u2019m wrong\u2026I want him to understand.\u201d I need him to know why I turned myself in, that I never stopped looking. \u201cPromise you\u2019ll\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Specialists drop from the roof; surround our table in swift, synchronized movements.<\/p>\n

I grab my pack and spring from my chair, backing toward the window of the caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n

A baritone voice from the rear of the squadron cuts through the square. \u201cOlena Burnwhite you are wanted by the Rada on counts of evasion, conspiracy, and conduct unbecoming a citizen of the Unified Front.\u201d The formation tightens, forcing me against the window.<\/p>\n

Bertram rises, spine straight, shoulders square, the picture of polished Outlander authority. \u201cDesist at once. You are outside the Unified Front\u2019s territory. Military action within the neutral zone is in direct violation of the Banforth Treaty.\u201d His cool words carry through the squadron.<\/p>\n

Specialists freeze, telescoping batons drawn, a half circle of statues ready to send an electric charge my direction. A tall, emaciated man breaks through the ranks. Gold glitters at his shoulders and wrists; the breast of his charcoal uniform bears four red slashes\u2014the mark of Rada commanders.<\/p>\n

\u201cRespectfully, Ambassador, you are beyond the Outland\u2019s territory and have no authority here. It also appears you\u2019re sadly short on protection. I see no reason to worry about where exactly Ms. Burnwhite was apprehended.\u201d Sallow skin stretches over his protruding cheekbones, leaving cavernous hollows where his cheeks should be. A sneer pulls at his upper lip when he sees me trapped against the building. \u201cAs you and I both know, the press should have no problem finding witnesses to confirm I captured Ms. Burnwhite within the Unified Front\u2019s territory. Furthermore\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Furthermore, the Rada\u2019s resident narcissist will keep talking until we all die of boredom. I let my voice ring out loud enough for all of his men to hear. \u201cYou really shouldn\u2019t have gone to all this trouble on my account, Hedrick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Commander Thornwhistle, girl.\u201d Three strides close the space between us.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear?\u00a0 Big day coming up at Nevile Fano.\u201d I press my hands against the window behind me, my trembling stops momentarily\u2014the glass cool against my damp palms\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019ll get me to trial on time, won\u2019t you, Hedrick?\u201d<\/p>\n

His baton smashes into my stomach. I slam against the cobblestones with such force my teeth pierce my tongue. Blood trickles from the edge of my mouth. When I try to rise to one knee, cold steel presses beneath my chin. Thornwhistle\u2019s weapon wrenches my head upward, forcing me to meet his malevolent stare. His rancid breath steams against my cheek. \u201cThat\u2019s Commander, girl, and Nevile is the last place you\u2019ll end up on my watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSir.\u201d The baritone voice from the back of the squadron speaks again. \u201cIn the cafe. Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thornwhistle presses the baton against my throat, stifling my airway as he turns his attention to the window behind me. With a curse, he whips the baton to his side, leaving me wheezing on my knees.<\/p>\n

Bertram edges towards us, \u201cThornwhistle. Any military aggression in Glenvale will be seen as an open act of war by the Outlands.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell we wouldn\u2019t want that now, would we?\u201d The Commander snaps away from me. \u201cStand down.\u201d Thornwhistle\u2019s men lower their weapons.<\/p>\n

What in the gods\u2019 names?\u00a0 I stagger to my feet and peer through the glass behind me. The lelsh stares out of the pass-through. Its nowhere-everywhere gaze fixed on the mayhem in the square. Why would a lelsh have Thornwhistle so spooked?<\/p>\n

Doesn\u2019t matter. That lelsh just bought me a chance at Nevile\u2014a chance at finding Dad. I press my lips into a firm line, but there\u2019s no way to keep the smile from my eyes\u2014if I ever see that lelsh again I just might kiss it.<\/p>\n

Bertram advances, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, \u201cCommander, I trust Ms. Burnwhite\u2019s personal rights will not be infringed upon while she\u2019s within neutral territory.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thornwhistle gives a terse nod, his attention locked on the lelsh and the square where people cluster around the caf\u00e9.\u00a0 \u201cTake care of it,\u201d he says. Two soldiers dash into the caf\u00e9, take the lelsh by his arms and steer him towards the kitchen. With harsh words and raised weapons, soldiers fall into the crowd and disperse the witnesses.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should come willingly, Ms. Burnwhite. My men won\u2019t be this gentle when we catch you in Rada territory.\u201d He strides into the building.<\/p>\n

Bertram hands me my bag. \u201cDo I have any hope of convincing you to run north?\u201d<\/p>\n

I wipe the trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth and offer a lop-sided smile as I shake my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought as much,\u201d He lays a hand lightly on my shoulder, \u201cBut if your travels lead that way, please know my people will offer a much kinder welcome than the Rada. There\u2019s no need for you to hide amongst the Outlanders or Ilts. We celebrate the talents of people like yourself. We take care of our friends.\u201d<\/p>\n

Friends. Is that what we are?<\/p>\n

Around us soldiers force the locals about their business in the square. The baker\u2019s hands shake as he arranges loaves on the windowsill of his shop. Vendors at carts call out their wares, but now their voices sound forced and hollow.\u00a0 If Bertram finds Dad before I do, Dad will know how it came to this; why I chose to search for him at Nevile; why I didn\u2019t have a choice.<\/p>\n

With a final nod to Bertram, I move. Keeping my back to the wall of the caf\u00e9, I skirt the edge of the building until I hit the shadows of a side street, where I do a one-eighty\u2014and run.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

The Color Eater is a richly imagined fantasy infused with big moral questions at its heart, for fans of Kristin Cashore, Neal Shusterman, and Suzanne Collins. Imagine the charming characters, mythical-industrial world, and winking humor of a Studio Ghibli story\u2014but with a gritty twist.<\/h4>\n

Olena Burnwhite is the last known color eater: a rare atypical human whose touch draws energy out of organic matter, draining it of color.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Separated from her father as a kid, Lena knows next to nothing about her atypical gift, except that it\u2019s put a target on her back. The Rada\u2014a shadowy police state\u2014are determined to cull atyps from the general population and lock them away in Korvidian, their top-secret prison. These days, most of Lena\u2019s typ neighbors would turn her over for a little electricity or a hot meal. With nowhere to turn, when the Rada launch a series of rigged trials against each group of atyps\u2014starting with color eaters\u2014Lena seizes the chance to get some answers. But an explosive demonstration of her gift shocks the court, and she is sentenced to life in Korvidian.<\/p>\n

In Korvidian, Lena is suddenly surrounded by atyps. There\u2019s Magda, a shifter with attitude to spare who might be a spy; Will, a bearer disowned by his Rada-scientist parents; and Ori, the edgy leader of the seers who can\u2019t stand her. As she looks for answers about her past, she realizes the Rada\u2019s twisted propaganda hides dark secrets\u2014and no prisoner is left unscarred. With tensions rising inside the prison, Lena is pushed to the limit to save her friends and must find her place in a fight where she could be the most powerful weapon of all.<\/p>\n

\n

For rights inquiries on the completed 117,000-word manuscript contact Lucy Cleland at the Kneerim & Williams literary agency.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Olena Burnwhite is the last known\u00a0color\u00a0eater: a rare atypical human whose touch draws energy out of organic matter, draining it of\u00a0color. Separated from her father as a kid, Lena knows next to nothing about her atypical gift, except that it\u2019s put a target on her back…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":15,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[272],"tags":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Color Eater - First Chapter - Jessica Conoley<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Color Eater - First Chapter - Jessica Conoley\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Olena Burnwhite is the last known\u00a0color\u00a0eater: a rare atypical human whose touch draws energy out of organic matter, draining it of\u00a0color. 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