ashen city (Black Tiger Series Book 2)

by Sara Baysinger

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I wake up to the sound of pots clattering and soft voices. It’s pitch black, but then I remember we’re inside caverns. There’s no way to tell if it’s daytime in here. Through the white canvas of my tent, I can just barely make out the light of the fire.

  Ash and Kate are still asleep, but I stand from my sleeping bag and step out of the tent. I welcome the new day. I didn’t sleep well last night. Too much information bombarded me yesterday, and I needed more than a day to digest it.

  So I thought on it all night. The fact that the Resurgence wants me to kill my brother and take his place as chief.

  Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.

  I never wanted to be in any position of leadership, and Titus is expecting us. There’s no taking him down and I just want out of this shoddy country.

  But the Resurgence is giving me food and shelter. And Walker wants me to think about my decision for a bit. So sure. I’ll let him think that I’m thinking. I’ll let him hope for a bit longer that I’ll help him fight in a war he’ll never win. Until I figure out how to get to the blasted bridge to Indiana so I can leave.

  But I have to convince Dad and Elijah to go with me, first.

  As for Forest…I heave out a sigh. Forest made his decision. I asked him to leave Ky with me, and he refused. What can be across the border that scares him so much?

  I hunker down by the fire and accept a bowl of porridge from an older lady.

  “Thank you,” I say. I take a bite. The food is too hot and bland on my tongue, but at least it’ll fill my stomach. It’s not like I’m not used to having food like this every day. It’s all we were provided with in our monthly rations that were always late.

  “Well, lookie who decided to finally wake up.”

  I look up, then groan at the sight of Rain sauntering toward me.

  “Go away, Rain,” I mumble. “It’s too early for your instigations.”

  “It’s actually ten in the morning. It just seems early because it’s dark.”

  “How do you know what time it is?” I ask before taking another bite of bland porridge.

  He lifts his wrist to reveal a silver contraption.

  “I thought you ditched your phoneband in Frankfort.”

  “This is a watch. Not a phoneband. This just tells time. It does not communicate with the outside world.”

  I stare at the circular contraption on his wrist. “I don’t see any giant numbers flashing on the screen.”

  “That’s because this is from another lifetime. See the short stick? It points at the hour. The long stick points at the minute. The thin stick that’s clicking counts the seconds.”

  I study his “watch” a moment longer, then look away. I’m too tired to figure out Rain’s antiques. “Glad you got it to work. How old is it?”

  “I have no idea.” He accepts the porridge from the older woman. “Thanks, Richa.” He takes a big bite. “Mm-mm-mm. Pretty scrumptious, yes?”

  I stare at him, dumbstruck. “Who are you?”

  He stops chewing.

  “I mean, you’re like a completely different person out here,” I clarify. “You’re, like, happy. And not the arrogant king-of-the-Patricians happy. It’s more of a genuine happy. Like, you’re really in your element here.”

  He grins. Takes another bite. “That’s because I am, Ember Carter. These are my people. These walls are my true home. I can actually be myself around here. Acting the part of a Patrician is more exhausting than it sounds, little apple-picker.” He takes another bite. Swallows. “In Frankfort, I have to be on constant guard, always have my chin up, and my face free of my true emotions.”

  “But those girls,” I say, thinking of Bouncing-Curls-Cherry. “You had to enjoy that a little bit.”

  “Holy Crawford. Don’t even get me started on the girls.” He rolls his eyes, scoops up another spoonful of porridge. “The girls were the worst part. No. The only thing I miss about Frankfort is the food.” He shoves that bite into his mouth and chews.

  And I’m so shocked, so incredibly transfixed because this is NOT the arrogant, self-centered, drunk Rain Turner I’d come to know before. This is a boy free of any care in the world, and yet caring too deeply for those around us.

  “Morning Sunshine.” James Mcallister nods at Rain, then looks at me, his dark eyes shining and his white teeth a stark contrast to his dark skin. He wears a white T-shirt and jeans. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing him without his Defender uniform. “And hello to you, Miss Carter-slash-Whitcomb.”

  I grimace. “Please don’t ever use Titus’s last name with mine.”

  “Ah, c’mon. Doesn’t it feel good to claim the chief’s name?”

  “Mm, not really. No. Do you like being called Defender Mcallister?”

  “Whoa. Okay, okay. Let’s not resort to name-calling here,” Mcallister says. “And by the way, it’s Captain, not Defender.”

  Rain leans toward me. “He owes that title to me, by the way.”

  “I don’t owe you anything, Turner,” James says with a snort.

  “Please,” Rain says. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be doing the usual brainless rotations around the entire city. But thanks to my connections, I got you the position of Captain, working directly for Titus himself.” Rain grins.

  James rolls his eyes.

  I look at the fire and try to smother a grin at their bromance. Can’t believe I didn’t sense it the entire time we were in Frankfort.

  While Rain and Mcallister talk, others make their way to the fire. Many nod their greeting at Rain. And he knows them all by name. He’s loved here. He’s respected. He’s almost as popular as Jonah Walker.

  And it completely baffles me.

  I almost feel like I should be proud of sitting beside him, instead of embarrassed.

  Rain finishes his conversation with Mcallister, then turns to face me, completely unaware of his popularity. Or maybe he’s just used to it. “So tell me, Rainbow Eyes. Did you come to a decision last night? About whether or not you’re going to lead us into a revolution?”

  “Don’t even talk to me about that.”

  He lifts his hands in mock defense. “Okay. For the rest of the day, that topic of conversation is off the table. I’ll be sure to mention to everyone else not to bring it up.”

  And they’ll all respect his wishes, I’m sure.

  “So…what should we talk about, then?”

  I look at him, almost laugh out loud. “You turned me in to be killed by Titus, and now you want to have a conversation with me?”

  Something shifts in his eyes, and I almost regret my words, because he was in a really good mood, and I feel like I might be ruining that.

  “Don’t forget,” he mutters. “I saved you from the Rebels Circle, too.”

  “Why did you do it?” Tears are suddenly stinging my eyes, and I try to hold them back. I’ve cried too much in the past two days, and now is not the time to break down. “I need an answer, Rain. Because I seriously thought we were friends before you turned me in. And…and I was finally on my way home. Why did you turn me in, if you were just going to turn around and rescue me again? Is what Forest said true? Were you just trying to earn popularity among the Patricians?”

  Rain rests his elbows on his knees, fiddles with his spoon in his bowl, and stares at the ground. “I needed—I didn’t—” He releases a frustrated sigh, presses his lips together, then turns to fully face me, and he almost looks sorry. “I didn’t want you going home and forgetting about Frankfort.”

  “But that’s exactly what I wanted.”

  “But it’s not right. Don’t you understand? Ky needs you to fix it. And I know I just said I wouldn’t bring this up, so this will be the last time I do until you open the conversation up again. Ember, I needed you to hate Frankfort and Titus more than you already did. I needed you to experience firsthand what it felt like to be unjustly crucified. I wanted you to taste the darkest part of Titus’s injustice, to fuel your hatred tow
ard him, so that when he struck against you again, which he did, you wouldn’t cower away in the fields. You would stand up and fight.”

  His words shock me. The amount of thought he put into the brash attempt to get me arrested and burned on the Rebels Circle, with no knowledge that he could get me off again, is slightly terrifying. And look what happened when I stood up to fight? I was placed in the prison pit. Again.

  “That was my choice, though, Rain. It wasn’t right of you to try and force me to make a decision by having me killed.”

  “You weren’t going to die.”

  “I almost did die! If you were one minute late—”

  “No. I had a backup plan.”

  “What?”

  “Well, let me first say, when I showed Titus that footage the night before your execution, Titus told me he never planned on killing you, since it would tick the Patricians off. He just wanted to scare you a little. Second, the Resurgence was on standby during your execution. They were there the whole time, in case Titus changed his mind. They were ready to jump in and rescue you.” He looks back at his bowl and swallows convulsively, then mutters, “They weren’t going to let you die.”

  They really were there? Titus told me, but I thought it was another exaggeration created by his constant paranoia of the Resurgence. But they watched me dangle on the Circle and pass out. When exactly were they planning on stepping in, I wonder. And if they were there for me, then why—

  “Why wasn’t the Resurgence there to save Leaf’s parents from the Rebels Circle?” I ask. “If they have that kind of power to step in and rescue someone, why didn’t they rescue them? Weren’t Walker and Leaf’s dad friends?”

  “A lot of people, friends of the Resurgence, die on the Rebels Circle, Ember.” He looks at me with those steel eyes. “They know the risk when they help the Resurgence. They know their lives are on the line. It’s a part of the packaged deal. And we can’t save all of them. Not without more of our people getting found out and killed. Not without exposing ourselves.” He reaches over and tips my chin so our eyes meet, and the unexpected gesture makes my breath hitch. “We had to save you because we need you.”

  Now I feel dirty. Like someone took a bucket of mud and poured it on me, and now I’m drenched head to toe with shame. Because I refused to sign up with the Resurgence, and they were still willing to risk their lives rescuing me.

  And would it have even worked? There’s no guarantee. With Titus’s impulsive decisions on the line, and the tiny number of Resurgencies compared to the vast number of Defenders, there really wasn’t much to bank my survival on. So Rain still turned me in with the full knowledge that I could have died.

  And it still hurts, whether or not he had a backup plan. Because friends don’t do that to each other.

  I look away before he sees my tears. “I don’t understand how you can be so heartless.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t understand how you can just let your own people die. How you can have a clear conscience after almost getting me killed just to make a point. I don’t care if you had a shoddy backup plan, Rain. I still could have died at your whim, just like all the other Resurgencies who think you’re on their team.”

  “My whim?” He releases a short laugh. “You have no idea the burden I have to bear. You have no clue, Carter, how hard it is to watch my real friends die on the Rebels Circle while I stand among the people I loathe. Remember Judah? Your friend from prison? The guy that almost escaped with us and then got attacked by tigers? You think you knew him? He taught me how to shoot a gun. More importantly, he taught me how to survive in the wild. He gave me my newsboy cap when I left Louisville to work as a spy in Frankfort. He gave it to me, so that on days I’d have my doubts, on the days I would want to quit the Resurgence, I would have a constant reminder of who I was and the bigger cause I was working for. Judah was the only father figure, next to Walker, that I had, since my real father did such a miserable job at being present. And I wanted so badly to get Judah out of there. I wanted to talk to him every day that I was in that prison pit.”

  “Then why didn’t you let us escape?” Tears are blurring my vision at the mention of Judah, and I’m pissed. Pissed that if Rain cared so much, he did so little to help. “That day—” My voice chokes off. I swallow and try again. “That day I bolted for the door, why did you stop me?” I look at him through my tears, and he regards me carefully.

  “Because everyone heard your plan, and there were soldiers with guns ready to pump you with lead if you put one foot across that threshold.”

  I look at my hands. They knew. Of course they knew. Forest told me they knew. That’s why Titus didn’t rescue me that day, because I was “conspiring” with rebels. Well, that and a million other reasons I didn’t know of at the time.

  “For someone who saw Judah like a father,” I say huskily, “you sure got over him pretty quickly.”

  His eyes snap to mine, and I realize that a sheen of tears has gathered in his eyes, too. “I didn’t…I didn’t get to mourn Judah’s death like you did, Ember.” His voice is raw and unrecognizable. “I didn’t get to have a reason to cry, because I’m supposed to be heartless, and crying over a prisoner would’ve been a dead giveaway.”

  My stomach hollows, then fills with regret. The fact that Rain knew Judah so well makes the ache worse, and I feel dirtier. Maybe I should just stop talking. I know nothing. All my assumptions are turning me into a jackal. Rain is not who I thought he was, and my brain needs to be rewired to the new version of him.

  “I’m supposed to enjoy watching these people die,” Rain says, his voice thick. “Because Forest and Titus are watching me, and because the Resurgence is counting on me. And while I have orders from Walker to spy—and the endless nagging from my father and Forest to get a shoddy career—I also have to keep up with the Frankfort drama just so I can stay in the loop. I have to plaster a smile on my face, force a bounce in my step, and go to meaningless parties where Patricians stuff their faces like swine, so that I can make friends and pick up on inside info that could be vital to the Resurgence.”

  “I thought you loved those parties.”

  “I didn’t.” His eyes soften, then he looks away. “Until I met you.”

  “What?” Did I hear him right?

  He looks at me again, his expressions guarded. “You made those parties bearable. You made them almost worth my time. You made me wake up in the morning and smile about what my day might bring.” He swallows convulsively, like all this is incredibly too hard for him to admit. “And believe it or not,” he says, his voice husky now, “I didn’t sleep at all the night before your execution. Because you are the first spark this country has ever had. You are the most interesting person I’d ever met. And even though Titus wasn’t planning on killing you, and even though the Resurgence was on standby to rescue you, I felt terrible for the pain and fear you would have to endure by almost dying on the Rebels Circle.”

  And now I’m not breathing. It’s like air suddenly decided I’m not worth its energy, and it refuses to fill my lungs.

  Until it does. And it’s kind of like a gasp of surprise and a sigh of relief in one breath. Because Rain does care for me a little bit. More importantly, he cares for the people who are executed. And this is a completely different side of Rain I’m seeing. Rain the compassionate. Rain with a conscience. I would have laughed at the prospect two days ago. Now I’m wondering, how much is hidden behind the façade that is Rain Turner?

  Rain sighs heavily. “I shouldn’t have laid all that on you. You’ve gone through enough the past few weeks.” He stands, dusts off his pants, and holds out his hand to me. “How about we leave all those thoughts behind, give your brain a break, and I’ll give you a tour of the cavern and surrounding area?”

  Wow. Another surprise. For the first time in history, Rain is thinking about someone other than himself. And I kind of like this side of him. And I kind of hate myself for liking it, because the Rain I knew yesterday was a ja
ckal. But the Rain that’s opened up to me today is an entirely different person. And anything sounds better than sitting here with curious stares shooting my way, with people asking me when I’m ready to take down my brother, with them asking why I have absolutely no desire to do so.

  So I take his hand, because Rain, the one person who took me to prison, instigated me, betrayed me and then saved me, is the only person here right now who I want to be around.

  PART II

  the seed

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Laughter echoes off the cavern walls. Across the fire, Ash and Kate snicker at some inside joke. Firelight pierces the darkness. The air is damp and cool, and I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders and hold my tin cup of hot water just a little tighter to ward off the cold.

  Two weeks have gone by. Two long, slow, almost painful weeks. Painful, because everyone’s trying to convince me to go back to Ky and redeem the country. My country. But I don’t think I can face Titus again. I don’t think I would survive this time. I just have that feeling, the innate knowing that if I choose to face that weasel again, I won’t make it out alive.

  Instead, I want to cross the river into Indiana territory to see what this Indy tribe is all about.

  But I have no idea how to get to the shoddy bridge, and no one here is willing to tell me, because they want me to lead. But how can I lead when I don’t have a single grain of leaderships skills?

  How can I lead when I don’t want to lead?

  How can I fight in a battle I know we’ll lose?

  Heaving out a sigh, I stand and shake off my regret. The cavern floor is rough and uneven. Dust coats the ground. I sift the dirt between my toes.

  Dirt. The crumbling limestone of these caverns. This dirt will never produce fruit. The seed that blows into these caverns will never take root and begin growing.