by Dylan Steel
“So what does it say, Miss Indarra?”
Her eyes flickered with confusion at the sudden formality in his tone, but she forced herself to look at the databook instead of him.
“It’s gonna to take a minute,” she said, scrolling through the translation.
“I know.” He picked up the second databook, wincing a little. “Perhaps I need to work on my humor.”
“Oh.”
That was all she could think to say? She berated herself inwardly.
Shifting her weight in her seat, she turned her full attention to the tablet in her hands, beginning to skim the writing.
“The journals. They really are written by the others in that picture.”
“It would seem so,” he murmured, not lifting his eyes from the text either.
An easy quietness settled between them as they pored over the ancient texts, taking in the messages no longer hidden. The two said nothing for awhile, each absorbing as much as they could.
After what felt like hours, Sage finally broke the silence.
“This one was written by a woman named Clara.” Still staring at the writing on the screen, she ran her finger over the violet spine of the journal sitting on the table beside her.
“She’s saying that there are some people who want to use the recent surge in violence to claim power for themselves. They’ve run out of room in their prisons and can’t contain all the offenders. The other rulers are split on what to do—what constitutes justice. Some want to rewrite the laws to concentrate their authority so that they can perform a mass execution. The others want to see if the criminals can be reformed, or at worst, exiled before taking more drastic actions.”
“Minus the knowledge that there were more than five rulers before the foundation of Eprah as we know it today, that doesn’t actually tell us that much,” Weston said, frowning.
“But that’s not the worst part.” Sage looked up, furrowing her brow. “She doesn’t know how, but she suspects that they’re somehow behind the rise in violence. Apparently, it coincided with a planned transition of power, but the transition was delayed due to instability.”
A spark of anger surged behind Weston’s eyes. “Of course. This isn’t the first time Eprah’s citizens have been manipulated by their rulers.”
She swallowed, looking back down.
“I’ve been reading the yellow journal. He’s not exactly… complimentary of some of the rulers.” Weston’s jaw twitched. “I presume he’s referring to the same five that became the Original Five.”
“It does seem to be a common theme,” she murmured. “The navy journal says basically the same thing. Five corrupt, self-serving leaders that this guy’s always arguing with.”
“Mmm. Yes,” he said distractedly as he continued reading.
“He thinks they drugged people.” Her fingers scrolled over the text. “That’s what induced the violence.” She looked at Weston in shock. “They turned the people violent so that they could kill them? Why?”
“What better way to seize control? Create a problem and then offer a solution.” His jaw tightened. “People would be too desperate to think through all the ramifications, and they’d willingly give up their freedoms out of a manufactured fear.”
“It’s repulsive.” He tapped his knee. “But brilliant. I see why it worked.”
“It shouldn’t have, though.” Concern and confusion were etched on her face. “There were seven other rulers who didn’t want this to happen. They even had a majority.”
“Keep reading,” Weston said quietly, a knowing look on his face. “Try the green journal next.”
Frowning, she turned her attention back to the databook and scrolled through the translations until she found the green one. Her fingers tightened into fists, knuckles turning white as she read the account there.
“They killed them.” Sage looked up, tears in her eyes. “The Original Five slaughtered them for power, and they knew it was coming. They knew.” She paused. “That’s why the journals exist. They’re a record of history—Eprah’s real history.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “That much we’d suspected.” He shook his head. “But to know your death is so certain and to still seek to preserve the truth and fight—it’s a shame that these men and women did not prevail. Eprah might have been an entirely different place if they had.”
“The Original Five aren’t heroes. They’re murderers.”
Biting her lip, she bent her head over the tablet again. There was too much to take in to waste time feeling sorry for themselves or even for those who’d fought—and lost—against this political manipulation and injustice.
“Weston.” Sage sucked in a breath and tilted her head back, meeting his eyes as they darted to hers. “They probably killed everyone in the other seven leaders’ families too. It sounds like they were worried about getting them into hiding in time, but there’s no way of knowing if they managed to before…” She trailed off. It felt too morbid to finish.
“That’s not surprising. Blood is a strong motivation for revenge,” he said. The coldness of his words sent a chill down her spine.
She swallowed, not really wanting to continue with what she’d found, but she forced herself to anyway. “But there were lesser ruling families who supported the Original Five. The… the Bennicks come from one of those families. That’s how your family became benefactors. The Bennicks knew what the Original Five were planning to do to the others.”
His mouth formed a harsh line. “I suppose I should be glad we don’t have a more extensive record of our family history in the estate library. Though I can’t say I’m surprised our power was gained through corruption. There seems to be little other way under the Quorum’s rule.”
“You’re not them,” she said softly.
“And yet I benefit from their despicable natures.” His face contorted in disgust.
She set her hand on his arm. “But you use your position to fight for those who can’t. That’s something. That matters.”
“A paltry penance. Were I born to any other family, I doubt I would have survived this long. I certainly wouldn’t have this life—these things.” He gestured at the room around him.
“And we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and I might not be alive.” Sage’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “And there would be no one to make a change for the better in Eprah. No one with influence, at least.”
“I can’t use my influence. Not really.” He shook his head in frustration. “Even as one of the most influential men in Eprah, I am forced to fight from the shadows.”
“But the point is that you do fight. And it’s only from the shadows so that you can keep fighting. You make a difference.”
“One day, I won’t need to hide.” His eyes met hers, passion blazing behind them. “Until then, I long to step into the light.”
Sage frowned and dropped her eyes back to the screen, flicking through the journals until she found what she was looking for. She cleared her throat. “Clara says she hopes someday someone can right the injustices they couldn’t prevent.” She lifted her gaze again. “That’s what you’re doing.”
“What we’re doing.” His brows knitted together as he stared at her. “I haven’t made this much progress in years—not until you started helping.”
“The timing just worked I guess.” She shrugged, letting her hair fall in front of her face as she looked away, hoping it would hide the blush creeping over her cheeks.
He leaned forward, catching her chin with his hand and turning it gently so that she faced him. His eyes searched hers. “You really have no idea, do you?” he said quietly. “Everything you’ve done.”
She looked at him sharply. If he wanted to talk about everything she’d done… Guilt gnawed at her chest again as she stared back into his ocean-deep eyes. How had he forgiven her for the pain she’d inflicted on him—for when she’d done more damage to both him and the Lawless than should’ve been possible by turning in his mother?
&
nbsp; “It’s not enough,” she mumbled, pulling back from his touch.
Disappointment flickered over his face for an instant as he dropped his hand, but then a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “Now you sound like me,” he said, a touch of sadness in his voice.
Turning his attention back to the translation in his lap, he went back to reading silently. Sage couldn’t help staring at him, thinking how she’d ruined his life. Her heart drummed in her ears.
Her voice trembled as she started to speak, ready to apologize again. “Weston, I—”
His lips parted. He held up a hand and lifted his eyes, excitement pulsing behind them.
“Have you read this yet?”
Her brow furrowed as she followed the line of his finger to the tablet. “I don’t think so, but I—”
“It’s always been a tradition. No one could explain why we did it or where it came from, but it was an easy way to unite the Lawless under an idea we all shared. Or at least, we thought it represented our ideas, but it’s not like we had a direct translation.”
“What?” she asked a little too quickly, frustrated both by his interruption and crypticness.
“Sacrisvita.”
There was an undercurrent of power as he said the word. Her body trembled automatically, though she wasn’t even sure why. Everything she’d been about to say died on her tongue, her sole focus drawn to what Weston was saying.
Sage felt herself leaning forward. “Do they say what it means?”
His eyes flicked back to the screen. He read aloud,
“They would have us believe that we are superior because of our positions. That we can manipulate who lives and who dies to best serve our own purposes and that we can do so under the guise of generosity—of allowing only those who are most worthy to continue their service. To prevent another outpouring of violence on such an unprecedented scale. That to allow less influential citizens to control one another with a constant fear for their own mortality will not only prevent continued violence but will ensure those rulers will never need to fear a loss of their own power.
“But we are not all rulers. Some of us are leaders. Some of us remember sacrisvita: Life is sacred—all are worthy. It’s a reminder to ourselves that even as we fight, we do not forget that people’s worth is not determined by anything that they do or say or believe, but in the very fact that they are people, and their lives are worth fighting for even if they don’t yet realize it themselves. We believe this, and we remember it always, even knowing that it will surely cost us everything, even our very lives.”
When he finally stopped reading, the room was so quiet, Sage could hear her own breathing. It was a little faster than normal. Her jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.
“They died protecting these secrets,” Weston said quietly.
Sage’s expression hardened. She raised her gaze to meet his, nostrils flaring as she spoke. “We have to make their sacrifice worth it.”
“We will.”
13. SHADOWS
“What are we doing here?”
Sage tripped over a root, and Weston’s arm shot out, steadying her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, glad he couldn’t see her cheeks flush in the dark.
“We’re observing,” he said in a low tone. “Almost there.”
She frowned, ducking the silhouette of a branch. She stopped beside a large trunk, unsure which way to go next. “I thought you said we were gonna tell people about what the journals said.”
“We are.” His breath brushed against her ear, and she fought back a shiver. When had he gotten so close? His hand landed on the small of her back, nudging her forward and slightly to the right. “But we need a way to do that without getting caught.”
Her eyebrow popped up incredulously. “And we do that by observing?”
“We do.”
She shivered. His voice sounded like it came from just behind her, still much closer than she thought he should be. Or thought he had been. Whatever. She just knew he was too close.
“When was the last time you climbed a tree?”
She whirled around, eyes wide, nearly slamming into his solid chest. She took a half step backward, blinking. “Are you serious?”
The shadows lifted at the corner of his mouth. “Entirely. How long has it been?”
“Years. Not since…” She trailed off, following his gaze up the tree they’d just come to a stop in front of. Her eyes snapped back down to his. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ll give you a boost if you need it.”
She stared back at him for a long moment, trying to decide if he was messing with her, but there was no hint of teasing in his expression.
He glanced over her shoulder, then back at her. “We don’t have much time, Sage.”
“Ok…” Her brow furrowed. She still wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him.
Weston let out a breath in frustration. “Here.”
His hands fell on her waist, turning her toward the tree. Her skin tingled under his touch, and she held her breath, wishing she could do something more to slow her racing heart but at the same time relishing the exhilarating feeling. Adjusting his grip, his fingers tightened around her as he lifted her off the ground, sending her stomach tumbling back toward him away from the rest of her body.
“There’s a branch just—”
“I see it,” she said hastily, reaching for it just above her head.
Grabbing hold of the branch, she hoisted herself up the rest of the way on her own, letting his hands fall from her sides. No sooner had she steadied herself against the trunk than she heard his voice again below her.
“Well, do you see the platform higher up?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
Digging her fingers into the bark for balance, Sage tilted her head back until she could make out a flat shape quite a ways above her.
“Yeah,” she said, following his movements as he effortlessly swung himself onto the branch beside her. “But it’s kinda high.”
“Then,” he grinned, standing on the branch as he extended his arm upward, “you’d better start climbing.”
Clenching her jaw, she followed closely behind him, blowing out a nervous breath as she jumped a little to reach the next branch. Weston managed to reach the platform first, but she wasn’t too far behind.
Scrambling over the edge, she eased herself closer to the center of the tree, not sure she trusted the platform to support both of them.
“Nervous?” His brow lifted as he watched her hand drift to the trunk.
“No.” She cringed. That came out a little too quickly.
The side of Weston’s lips raised into a half-smile. “It’s sturdy.”
“I figured. I just—”
“Just don’t trust me?” he asked, stepping closer.
Her pulse drummed in her ears as his warmth reached out, surrounding her. She swallowed, forcing her gaze up. His blue eyes were especially striking in the moonlight.
“I just was wondering why we’re up here at all,” she said, grateful her voice came out evenly.
“It would be easier to show you.”
Weston pressed something into her hands. Her brow crinkled in confusion as she looked at the thin oval-shaped device in her hands. She had no idea what it was—she’d never seen it before.
“Specialized lenses,” he explained quietly. “They allow you to see farther than you would be able to normally. Like this.” He demonstrated, setting the oval across the bridge of his nose.
She suppressed a giggle. He looked absolutely ridiculous with that thing on his face.
“Very funny. Your turn.” Peeling it off, he pressed it against her face.
Blinking in surprise, Sage jerked her head back, nearly knocking against the trunk as her vision focused far too clearly on the scruff on Weston’s chin. His hands shot out, gripping her arms to steady her before she could tumble over the edge.
“It helps if you’re actually looking at something far away.”
She felt his hand move to her chin, directing her gaze away from him. Her eyes focused through the trees, past the branches, and for the first time, she noticed a small clearing in the middle of the forest.
“Do you see it?”
“The clearing?” she asked, lowering her voice.
“Mmhmm.”
She peeled the device off her face and noticed he was already wearing a second pair, focusing his attention on the same gap in the leaves.
“Weston?”
“Mmm?” He peeled the lenses off his face as he turned to her.
“Why are we watching the clearing?”
“You’ll see in a minute. Here, you’ll need this too.” He held out another small device and pointed to his ear, then slipped one behind his ear.
Sage wrinkled her nose but followed suit, pressing the second device behind her ear.
“I don’t understand why—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to explain this to you before.” She caught a flash of concern in his eyes. “To be honest, there’s a part of me that was worried you’d try to talk me out of this, and it’s the only plan I had.”
A feeling of unease swirled around her, clutching at her chest. “Why do you think I’d try to talk you out of it?” she asked cautiously.
He flashed her a conflicted look out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“Then why—”
“Like I said, I didn’t see another option,” he said a little more gruffly than normal. “And we’re running out of time.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down so that they were lying on the platform side by side on their bellies.
“We should stop talking now,” Weston said in a voice so low she could scarcely hear him. “We’re a good distance away, but voices can carry in the night, and it’s almost time.”
She nodded hesitantly, then pursed her lips as she turned her attention back to the clearing. Following his lead, she slipped the lenses back over her eyes and stared at the clearing expectantly, wondering when she’d get her answers.