Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2)

by Janet McNulty

  Commander Vye hurries to the podium, not bothering to glance in the judges’ direction and steps upon it, the bright light making her uniform shine. Squaring her shoulders, she eyes the darkness before her, daring the people hiding within it to condemn her.

  “You are the commander of the eastern sector, is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Commander Vye’s sharp voice echoes around the chamber, causing my chest to vibrate just a little and instilling fear within me.

  “And Arbiter Noni is under your command?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has she ever shown a tendency to sympathize for plebeians before?”

  “Arbiter Noni follows the law.”

  “Answer the question,” demands the council.

  “I just did.” The defiance in Commander Vye’s voice overwhelms me. Never before have I heard her challenge someone above her rank, nor care about the consequences of doing so. Arbiters are to enforce the law and are never encouraged to show the slightest tendency toward rebellion.

  “If you wish to have an official report about my arbiters’ actions during the terrorist attacks, then you shall have it, but to subtly accuse one of them of disloyalty after having awarded her a medal for valor is insulting! You don’t even have the courage to say what it is you think she has done.”

  “Mind your tongue, commander,” warns the first council member.

  Commander Vye rethinks her words before opening her mouth again. “My arbiters put their lives on the line every day to defend this city and those within it, and that includes the plebeians. The law is clear: we are to protect those who dwell within Arel. No distinction is made between citizen or plebeian. Arbiter Noni and Lieutenant Renal have followed and upheld the laws of our great city, and yet, today, you treat them like common criminals.”

  “You’re dismissed!”

  Commander Vye opens her mouth to speak but rethinks her decision when one of the guards within the room shifts his position, readying his weapon should the need to use it arise. With one final glare at the tribunal, she spins on her heels and steps off the podium, her brisk steps clacking on the slate-colored tile floor as she walks back to where both Renal and I stand.

  I swallow the second lump to form in my throat today, awaiting the inevitable.

  “Arbiter Noni, take the podium.”

  Despite the fact that both Renal and Commander Vye accompany me in the room, I feel alone, isolated, as I step toward the podium and the singular, blinding light that bears down upon it, doing my best not to tug at my collar as sweat pools beneath it, causing it to itch. The singular sounds of my boots tapping the floor as I move closer to my inquisition fills my ears, stabbing the buzzing silence that engulfs them, mimicking my apprehensive mood. I place my right foot on the podium, lifting myself into the beam of light and take my place in its center, placing the sweaty palm of my good hand on the rail before me.

  “Arbiter Noni,” begins the female member of the council who had first questioned Renal, “tell us, in your own words, what happened the night of the bombings.”

  “Madam Coun…” I squeak and stop, clearing my throat and willing my voice to be firm and void of emotion. “Madam Councilwoman,” I begin again, my voice radiating off the walls as it resonates around me, “the night began as Lieutenant Renal says. We were on patrol when a man threw a rock at one of the loudspeakers. Since he was out after curfew, the lieutenant and I engaged pursuit and apprehended him. That was when our wristbands alerted us to trouble within the city. The lieutenant ordered me to take the suspect to the nearest detainment box while he investigated the summons. I did as commanded, and after the subject was secured, I searched for the lieutenant. I found him lying on the ground unconscious, and soon after, the first bomb went off.”

  “And did you see who had attacked him?” asks another on the council.

  My mind goes back to that night, reminding me of how I had snuck up behind Renal and clubbed him with my own baton. I am the one who had attacked him, but I cannot admit that here. Such a betrayal would wound him.

  “No, sir,” I reply.

  “Did you see who it was he had chanced upon?”

  Sigal’s face fills my mind’s eye, but Renal had lied about seeing him,—and why, I do not know—and I cannot contradict him, or he will be arrested and sentenced to the crematorium. “No, sir. No one was there when I found him.”

  “And after you found him?”

  Afterward? Afterward, I helped Sigal and his family escape Arel, taking them to the hole that still remained in the wall, luring the guards away so that they could cross through it and into the wildlands. I am the traitor they seek. “I shook him awake,” I say. “We went to the tunnels and took a railcar to the school within the eastern sector that was on fire. When we reached it, I heard a child screaming, so I ran into the building.”

  “You just ran inside?” scoffs the female member of the tribunal.

  My fist tightens around the cold steel bar within my hand, wishing to strike her for her condescending attitude. “Yes, ma’am. I ran inside.”

  “Tell us why.”

  “Because that is my duty as an arbiter.”

  Motion in the far corner of the room attracts my attention again, and I turn toward it, peering into the shadows, doing my best to make out the faint outline of a person standing behind its veil, concealed from my view, but I feel eyes upon me, studying me, and reading my body language.

  “What happened next?” asks another member of the council, thrusting me back into the present and away from my pondering.

  “I found a boy hiding on the stairs. By the time I had reached him, the fire had already blocked the entrance, so we went upstairs to the second floor where I found three more children.”

  “You said children,” interrupts the female member of the tribunal.

  “That is what they are,” I growl, unsure about her statement and where she is headed.

  “I believe you mean two children and one plebeian,” the woman continues.

  My knuckle turns white as I clutch the bar in front of me, my anger rising, but I take a deep breath and exhale, calming myself and reminding myself that I must remain in control. She awaits my reply, but I remain silent, knowing that if I open my mouth, nothing good will come out of it.

  “Well?” says the woman.

  Knowing I will not be able to stay silent for much longer, I consider my words, but my anger refuses to be quelled and it forces my mouth to speak before logic and reason have a chance to stop me. “Well, what?” I challenge her, the annoyance in my voice evident. “You asked me for my version of events, and that is what I am giving you, yet you stop me because I used a term you dislike? Yes, they were children! One may have been a plebeian, but none of them have reached the age of adulthood, so what else should I call them?”

  I pause, staring at each of the three people sitting behind the bench, in the dark, safe in their own anonymity.

  “You think me disloyal?” I demand.

  “You did save the life of a plebeian instead of searching for more citizens,” replies the woman.

  “She might have witnessed something,” I say. “And if she had, how could she tell us if I had allowed her to die?”

  “A valid point,” says one of the other members.

  “Yes,” continues the woman, “but we questioned her and she had seen nothing.”

  “Arbiter Noni had no way of knowing that,” counters the other member of the council.

  I have had enough of this, of being thought a quisling for doing my duty to Arel. “I saved her because as an arbiter I am charged with protecting both plebeians and citizens. It is written in the law, or have you all forgotten that? If you think me disloyal, then give me a test!”

  A sardonic grin crosses the woman’s face as her white teeth reflect the light within the room, and the moment I see them, I wish I can recant my statement and take back my challenge, having realized that I have fallen into her trap.

  “Yes,” says the wo
man, “I believe a test is in order.”

  She snaps her fingers and the guard opens the door, allowing two arbiters to enter the chamber, dragging a small girl by the shoulders—her bare feet squeal as her toes slide across the polished tile—and dump her between me and the bench the tribunal sits at: the plebeian girl I had rescued. They had questioned her, all right, as the bruises on her small, pale face attest to. She lays on the floor, crying, her small shoulders hunched but bobbing up and down with each sob. One of the arbiters kicks her, yelling at her to sit up. As she forces herself into a sitting position, I envision myself jumping over the bar I cling to and pummeling the arbiter as he terrorizes the girl, but one glance at Commander Vye and Renal stops me. I cannot win this scenario. I have brought this upon myself, and if I do as I wish, then we will all be dead. The council intends to kill this girl anyway, I see it on their faces, written within their ice-cold eyes.

  “This is not the first time you have been in here, Arbiter Noni,” says the woman.

  One of the arbiters that had brought the girl inside the room, places his sidearm next to her, out of her reach, and steps away with the other beside him. All eyes focus on me. I close my eyes. Please let this be a dream, a nightmare and nothing more, something I can wake from. My eyes open and my heart sinks, dropping into my stomach, weighing it down, as the reality of the situation slams into me, crushing me. This is no dream, and I have two choices: kill the girl, or sentence Renal, Commander Vye, and myself to the crematoriums, and the girl will die anyway.

  She lifts her head; her mangled hair falls around her bony face, but parts just enough so that her eyes can stare into mine, and I register the physical pain on her face; there are wounds that I cannot see, but severe enough where she will die an agonizing death. Her fate is sealed.

  As I stare into her pain-ridden eyes, Chase’s words echo through my mind: Promise me that you will do what you need to, to survive. If only he knew what that meant, what I would be asked to do.

  Summoning my resolve, I bite the inner corner of my lip to keep from screaming, to keep from shouting obscenities at everyone within the room, and step off the podium, away from its condemnatory light, and walk up to the girl, each step heavier than the last. Once I reach her, my gaze shifts from each member of the council, but I keep my face stolid, void of emotion, like theirs. A soft whimper jolts me from my stupor. I reach for the sidearm laying on the floor, and as its icy exterior touches my skin, I remember the first time I had killed a living creature. During my sixth year at the training facility, a knife had been placed in my hand and a live rabbit, tied up, squirmed in front of me. I had hesitated, unable to kill such an innocent creature who had done me no harm and whom I did not need to use for food, but refusal to follow orders is not tolerated, and a firm hand gripped mine, forcing me to swipe the sharp edge of the blade across the rabbit’s throat. I cried as its warm blood covered my fingers and received a slap in return; but this girl is no rabbit, and yet here I am, about to take her life, feeling as though another’s hand forces mine to act.

  “Close your eyes,” I whisper to her as I stand up with the weapon in my palm.

  Suffocating silence surrounds me, choking me, while whispering to me to do as I am expected to, tempting me to save myself, but the girl’s eyes plead with me to end it, to ease her suffering and let her go. She closes them and bows her head as her tangled hair drapes around her shoulders, while I aim for the back of her skull. I pull the trigger, and a single shot echoes around me. She falls to the floor.

  Without a word, I drop the gun and stalk out of the inquisition room, pushing my way past the guards, refusing to allow them to stop me. Once out the door, I hurry down the carpeted hallway and past the glass windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, not bothering to look out them and at the people scurrying below, oblivious to what has just happened, to what I have done. A door to the restroom looms ahead of me and I charge for it, bursting through it, and I check the stalls to make sure that I am alone and lock the door, not wanting to be bothered. Rambling thoughts scurry though my mind, taunting me with their condemnation. Time passes—how long, I do not know—as I pace back and forth on the crimson floor littered with Arel’s insignia as though it mocks me and the turmoil reeling within me, demanding to be released and loosed upon the world to unleash its fury on all it deems guilty. My reflection stops me. Facing it, I look at the woman staring back at me, her irate and somber eyes filled with confusion and a desire to undo the last hour. I did as ordered. I did my duty. I… I am unworthy to live. I should have been executed, not her. Unable to control the rage within me, I ram my fist into the mirror, dealing out my punishment to the woman glaring back at me, and a scream bursts free from my mouth, drowning the hum of the lights above me.

  Once I calm down, I examine my hand and the blood that oozes from a fresh cut. Automatic movements turn the water on, rinsing my hand, washing away the blood before I dry it on the towel that hangs from the wall. Straightening my uniform and regaining my composure, I relax my face, allowing a mask to be shown to the world as I step out of the restroom.

  Commander Vye waits for me.

  “What is their verdict?” I ask, my voice even.

  “Come,” she says. “We’re going back to the manor.”

  Deemed loyal once again.

  I follow Commander Vye to where Renal waits for us, and we all head to the elevator, taking it to the main floor and leave the building, blending in with the hurrying crowds as though nothing has happened, as though it is just another typical day in Arel.

  We catch the first railcar back to the eastern sector—our escort has disappeared, having done her job and is no longer needed—and within an hour, we arrive at the platform where I had made my first arrest. It seems like such a long time ago now, but I am reminded that it has been less than a year. I remember the excitement I had at being commissioned as a full arbiter, but all I feel now is emptiness. Where has my wonderment gone?

  I steal a glance at both Renal and Commander Vye, but neither of their faces betray any emotion, or any indication that we have just escaped being stripped of our ranks and sent to the crematoriums. Sometimes I wish to know what they are thinking, but always think better of it in the end. Not knowing someone’s mind can be a blessing. Staring straight ahead, I mirror their composure, doing my best to act as though I do not care about what had happened at the Command Division; it is best if I pretend not to, but the image of the girl’s pained eyes refuses to leave me alone, determined that I relive the moment over and over again.

  We arrive back at the manor, and I stop the moment I walk through the door: Tapiwa waits for us, seated in a chair near the entrance.

  “Afternoon,” she greets us as the door slides shut behind us.

  “President Tapiwa,” says Commander Vye, doing her best to hide the note of surprise in her voice, but a small portion of it comes through. “What can we do for you?”

  “I am here to speak your young arbiter, here.” Tapiwa points at me as she rises from her seat, her ivory train with gold circles embroidered on it matches the loose-fitting pants she wears, and my breath catches in my throat as I remember where I had seen it before: my hearing from this morning. It was her who had been standing in the shadows, watching the proceedings, and as I wonder what her motive for such a thing is, I also ponder how she arrived at the manor before us until… The presidential transport. That explains it. She must have taken it here the moment our hearing had ended and ordered the driver to hide the vehicle so that we would not see it upon our arrival, thus concealing her surprise for us. Such an act is a way to catch us off-guard, and it worked.

  “You may use my office,” offers Commander Vye, and Tapiwa nods her appreciation as she strolls down the corridor to my commander’s one place of privacy.

  Unsure of what to do, I remain where I am, apprehensive about one of our presidents being here, but bolt from my spot the moment Commander Vye hisses at me to follow her. I hurry down the hallway and burst into t
he room just a Tapiwa positions herself in my commander’s chair, making me uneasy, since I have never witnessed anyone, except Commander Vye, sitting in it. The colorless walls and floor may match the organized desk and it’s bare, black top, but Tapiwa’s ostentatious outfit makes its plain features seem out of place. “It is a bit warm in here,” comments Tapiwa, removing her fitted jacket and baring her shoulders, something I have never seen before, “isn’t it?”

  I remain silent. Arbiters are not allowed to comment on the warmth or chilliness of our environment; we are expected to adapt and to endure as these are trivial matters and our duties come first.

  “Do relax, dear,” says Tapiwa in a silky voice, but behind all of the charm and her honeyed tone, lies a lioness in waiting, crouched, poised, and ready to strike.

  “You came here to see me, Madam President?”

  “Yes,” replies Tapiwa. “I must say that you made quite the statement at your congratulatory dinner.”

  “If I upset anyone there, that was not my intention. I understand if my rudeness requires me to make some sort of amends.”

  “So willing to prove yourself.”

  I cannot tell if she mocks me or is complimenting me, but her grin unnerves me.

  “I heard about your hearing,” says Tapiwa, her voice holding an ounce of concern. “Accusing you of neglecting your duties and after I had pinned an award to your chest. The tribunal should have known better than to question your commitment to Arel, though you will understand that they must be allowed to come to their own conclusions.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Though I think you impressed them.”

  Impressed is not the term I would have used. Her flowery statements, vague sentences, and praising manner causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end, and should I not have been wearing my jacket, I might have shivered from the chill breeze that emanates from her. I wish she would get to the point. “President Tapiwa,” I say, “permission to speak freely.”

  “By all means. We are friends here.”