Arjun is still watching me, but hasn't come any closer. I shiver, and his golden eyes darken. The others have gone a little ahead, a shrewd look from Jade granting us space.
"Come here," I say, my voice low.
Desire flashes across his face, filling his eyes for a split second, and then it is gone. He is remote as he walks over to me. I reach for him, slip my hand in his, and squeeze. "I missed you."
He squeezes my hand.
It is natural, to walk with him like this, the last few steps before we leave the cave. And then I am in the open air, and my head tilts back. It is darker here than it would be in the open. And the world is on a tilt--we are on a mountain side. But there is a breeze--faint, broken by the trees, but there--that teases my hair and brushes my skin. I can hear wild things creeping around us, the stir of underbrush as some small animal darts away from the predators that are now in the forest. Far away, a ban-wolf screams. Above us, an answering scream rends the air--my eyes open, searching, and I pick out the dark shape of a black ban-wolf perched high in the trees, barely visible in the graylight.
"What is he doing?" I ask, not looking away.
"Someone has to watch the mouth of the cave. If we don't have a sentry, we'll be vulnerable to anyone or anything that wants to attack us--or use our cave. The sentry is a last line of defense," Arjun says.
Ahead of us, Jade has turned, and her green eyes seem especially bright as she snaps, "Hurry up, girl. This is supposed to help your healing. Move."
I grimace, but do as she orders. Arjun lets me set our pace, holding my hand as I pick a path down the mountain, avoiding plants I know to be poisonous. A trio of birds in the trees sings at us, curious.
I can breathe here. Despite the darkness, and the plethora of deadly plants, it is a relief to take a deep breath, and taste the wild. The caves have been suffocating—even without meaning to be. I’m used to space, used to being in open air. The confines of the cave have become less stressful and scary as I accustom myself to it, but being in the open air is like a weight being taken off me. I am so happy I am almost giddy as I half skip my way to the large pine where Jade, Gali and Merc are waiting. Merc's watching us with his lazy smile, his sky-dark eyes amused as he watches my slow progress and I can't help but grin at him.
"Focus, child," Jade chides, but there is a smile on her face when I look at her.
I'm exhausted, sweat dripping off me when I finally collapse under the tree. Jade brushes off the attention of Gali and Merc with a muttered, "Go, be useful. Find my herbs."
I am surprised that they both accede to the old ban-wolf's request without argument. But I am learning that in the pack’s unusual hierarchy, Jade's word carries a great deal of weight.
She shoves up my shirt without a word, her long claws probing my wounds. The skin has lost its shiny infected look, turning a healthy, healing pink. She makes a grunting noise, and grants me a smile. "You’re doing much better than I thought you would. Those stitches can come out tomorrow maybe—but you'll need to use the ointment I make you, just to make sure the blood-poison doesn't come back."
I nod, and ask, "How long do you think until I can go back?"
The words are out before I can think about them, and instantly, I want to take them back. Arjun drops my hand and pulls away from me. Despite the warmth of him at my side, he feels a thousand miles away. Even Jade seems thrown, her gaze darting between us cautiously.
“I don’t know,” she says at last.
“I don’t want to go back,” I say, and even though I am looking at Jade, I am talking to Arjun. “But I don’t think Rook will let me stay—and they are my family. They deserve to know what happened to me.”
“He doesn’t deserve anything from you,” Arjun snaps, stalking away. “He lied to you.”
I look down at my hands, my heart suddenly pounding. “Do you want me to stay?” I demand, arching an eyebrow.
He does not respond, and the silence makes my heart ache. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe the kiss means nothing. Tears sting my eyes.
“What I want doesn’t matter—it’ll depend on Rook. Everything does,” he says, his face blank.
“Rook wants the cure the Mistress may have. And that will require me going to the Manor,” I say, coldly.
“But you want to go back,” he accuses.
It makes me angry. I look at him—he’s stiff, his eyes cold and blank, distant and dangerous. “This is my choice—even if I stay with you and the pack, I will return to the Manor. Those children did nothing wrong. They love me, and I left them. I will not be another person to leave with no answers, not for them. I won’t.”
I can’t wait for his response, not with tears burning in my eyes, and my emotions crumbling. I stand and stumble my way toward the mouth of the cave.
“Sabah,” he calls, his voice still angry, “don’t.”
Jade growls, “Just shut up, boy. You’ve done enough for the moment.”
I would laugh. At any other time, it would amuse me—but not now.
A dark brown shape drops from the trees, and I stifle a scream. As he straightens, my speeding pulse settles. Rook.
“I can’t do this right now,” I mutter to no one, looking away from the pack leader. Jade takes my arm in her tight grip, her support surprisingly steady.
“How long before she can safely travel?” Rook asks, looking at Jade.
She cocks her head. “If she uses the ointment, and soaks in the pool—a week.”
A week.
“How long have I been here?” I demand.
Rook flicks a glance at me, dismissive. “Three weeks.”
I gasp, and they all look at me. I feel dizzy, weak. Three weeks. They will have given up on me. They will think I am dead. The children. Pain slams into me. A sob breaks free, and I turn away from the angry, assessing eyes.
I can’t escape Rook. His hand catches my shoulder, restraining and turning me toward him. His eyes are unflinching. “I need to know what your Mistress has.”
This is action and it helps push my anguish back. “What do you want?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Is it safe for me to meet with her—or is she too loyal to the Commission?” he asks.
I think of the last few weeks in the Manor, the presence of the Rover and his brutal tribe. The way she had sent Berg to the University for testing. Her friend in the City.
“No,” I say. It stings, feels something like a betrayal. For the first time, I have some sympathy for Berg—divided loyalties are a small slice of hell. “She’s too close to the City and the Prince.”
Rook’s nostrils flare. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“Because you don’t trust me,” I snap back.
“Sabah.” Arjun’s voice is full of reproach and I twist to glare at him.
“I’ll get your answers, if that’s what you want. But waltzing into the Manor is suicide—if the Mistress doesn’t hand you to the Commission, Berg will kill you. He kills any ban-wolves he comes across.” I say it without feeling, without thinking. It is simple truth. But the sharp gazes of Arjun and Rook grow heavy and I heave a sigh. “Berg was attacked by a ban-wolf five years ago. He almost died—and still carries the scars. And he has no reason to like Arjun,” I say grudgingly. Speaking of Berg in front of Arjun seems wrong somehow, and it makes me nervous. “He doesn’t forgive easily,” I finish, lamely.
Arjun snorts behind me, a disgusted sound.
“Fine,” Rook growls, and his voice silences more argument from us. “One week, and you’ll go back.”
I pale. I want to argue—even as furious as I am, I want to plead, beg to be allowed to stay with Arjun.
“I’m going with her,” Arjun states.
Rook glances at him, his eyebrow arching. At last, he nods. It is a reprieve, a minor one.
“We will discuss further if she will stay at the Manor or be allowed to return,” Rook says, and I make a small sound, almost painful. Rook’s gaze, when it comes to me, is almost gentle.
>
When it goes to Arjun, it is different—hard, unforgiving. “Work this out, Arjun.”
And then he’s gone.
Jade laughs, and it startles me, reminds me she is there. She pats my hand, and I am amazed she is still holding my arm. I wonder, if she lets go, will I fall? “Well, children, that could have gone much better.”
**
The tension makes me want to scream. I pull my hands through my hair—maybe Gali has a brush I can borrow—and try not to look at Arjun. He’s pacing the cave as I sit on my bed, and despite myself, my gaze is drawn to him, tracking his restless movement.
Merc sits in the chair, humming tunelessly. Arjun glares at him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he demands.
Merc shrugs, lazily. “I think the girl could use some company,” he says, looking over at me. Something other than complacency fills his eyes, gone so fast I could think it was not there. Arjun growls at him, a low rumbling sound, and I say quickly, “I’m fine, Merc. Go.”
He does, reluctantly. I can’t help but feel thankful for the misguided desire to—what? Protect me? My gaze goes back to Arjun, who has resumed his pacing, and I wonder if sending Merc away was a good idea.
Arjun finally stops, facing the stone wall. Even from here, I can see his broad shoulders trembling with barely suppressed emotion. And then he lashes out, his fist slamming into the wall so quickly I hear rather than see it. I muffle my scream, scrambling from my bed to go to his side. He doesn’t resist as I force him to sit, and take his clenched hand in mine, makes no noise at all as I unclench his bloody fist.
The knuckles have been scraped raw, and his blood makes my skin tingle as I try to stem the flow. But his palms are shredded. I make a low noise of distress as I stare at the damage his claws have done. The force of hitting the wall has driven his claws into his palm, four deep grooves that pull to the surface in ragged lines.
He seems calm now, submitting to my care without a word—the sudden violence has released his tension and anger. I look up at him, my eyes full of tears. “Arjun,” I whisper.
He sniffs, a dismissive noise. "It's nothing. Jade will wrap it in her flower ointment and it'll heal within the week."
I stare at him, and suddenly, my anger, my sadness, even my anguish over his pain—all of it drains away leaving me empty and weak. I stumble my way to bed, and lay down, curling on my side, the thin blanket pulled up to my chin, a flimsy shield. It covers me and makes me feel less vulnerable.
Arjun stares at me. He turns in the chair, watching me with his golden eyes. Blood drips to the stone floor, the soft splatter making a quiet counterpart to our silence.
"I hate this," I say finally.
Although his gaze is already on me, it seems to focus and his eyebrows arch questioningly. "What?"
I laugh, if it can be called that. The sound is tortured, half sob, half bitter amusement. "This," I say, waving a hand between us. "This anger. You being so mad at me you hurt yourself. The silence—that was the worse part of being with Berg—the silence when I knew he was keeping something from me."
I look away, embarrassed by the tears that choke my voice, and stream down my face. Alba always says I look horrible when I cry, and somehow that makes me feel satisfied, in a small vindictive way. I am real, in this moment. Me.
"Have you ever wanted something so desperately, and known it was wrong?"
His voice is so empty it hurts. It hurts even more than his words. I open my mouth to answer, but he is already speaking. "I want to tell you something. But I need you to understand, before I do. This--it's important, Sabah."
"What is?" I whisper.
"Our future." He takes a deep breath, almost as if he is steadying himself. "I'm not supposed to speak of this. Not to anyone—Rook swore the pack to secrecy when he first told us. I could be separated from the pack for telling you about this."
"Then why tell me?" I ask. Why risk that much for a girl who will be gone within a week? The thought makes the tears fall faster. I wish he would reach for me, would hold my hand. But he's cradling his bloody hand in his lap, and I am too afraid of rejection to reach for him.
"When the Commission built their Cities, what did they use?"
I blink—of all the directions for this conversation to go, this is not the one I expect. "Um, Genesis Field was on the site of a tiny city in the midwest."
"But to protect it—to feed the Citizens? Medical supplies? Where did that all come from?"
"The military," I say immediately, frowning. Everyone knows that the Commission appropriated all military technology and goods when the Cities were founded. Closely guarded national secrets were the reason we survived.
"Exactly," he says, a strange smile turning his lips. It makes me shiver, because there is no amusement in that smile--no shadow of the boy I have come to love. "The Commission took everything the military had--to keep us safe. And, to make sure no one else built Cities outside their control."
I nod. That makes sense--the Commission has always been fanatical in its need for control and having a City sprawling and thriving without their blessing would infuriate them. And undermine their authority.
Neither was acceptable.
"Sabah," his voice is hoarse, with excitement and fear, "what if they didn't?"
"Didn't what?" I ask, stupidly. I am not following the conversation. It is too erratic, and broken.
"What if they didn't take everything? What if there was a base—two bases—they couldn't touch? And they forgot about them? What if the Shields are waiting, just waiting for someone to come along and build their own City, where everyone is free?"
The words are shocking and I shiver, looking around. People have died—and worse—for questioning the Commission. Here of all places, they know that. "There isn't," I say, honestly.
He's watching me, and I falter. Something in his eyes makes me doubt it, makes my stomach tremble and my heart speed. "Arjun," I say, licking my lips, "there isn't. Tell me."
He shakes his head. And tells me.
The base was in the south, two days south of Kerdita. Rook had found records that said it was a safe haven for the President and the government, the place they had fled. Military intelligence was housed there—and it was one of the first places hit on Longest Night.
"The nuclear waste was too toxic," Arjun says, his voice excited. "The Commission sent a team in to strip the base, but they all died from radiation poison. Scientist did readings and said it wouldn't be approachable for at least a century."
"They wouldn't forget it. They would have been there," I protest shrilly.
"It was untouched when we went,” he says, his eyes darting to mine, finally. There is a challenge in them.
"Why?" I demand. Why would the Commission ignore such a storehouse of technology and weapons? Why would they leave it there, ripe for the picking?
"We don't know," he answers. "The base is surrounded by poison wood, and a dragon has claimed the territory—it wasn't pleased when it realized we were there." His voice is almost amused as he says this, and I pale, thinking of him facing one of those frightening, mammoth beasts.
"But what did you want?" I ask, curious despite my fear and shock.
"Everything,” he says, fiercely. "The Shield technology, the medicine, the food stores—they still have food stores that are edible, can you imagine that?"
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of food that old, but push the thought aside. "But why?"
He pauses, looking at me. "We were always told we were sterilized—part of the change process."
I nod—I remember that from the stories I read on the interwebs. "It's not true,” he says flatly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, something has changed. Something in the makeup of our change--and only from some of us. But four of our females are pregnant. And Gali—she thinks she could become so."
My mind is racing, but I don't say anything--he is still speaking, "We are content to live in caves, hiding and hunting, if w
e are living out a sentence given to us by someone else. But—Sabah, we can't raise children here. They deserve more. We deserve more."
His voice is pleading with me, and I don't understand why. So I reach from under my blanket and pat his knee, gently. He jumps, startled, his eyes wide. "Of course you do. You all do," I say, gently.
"We can have it. The pack--half of them are already there. Building what we need--barracks for the enforcers, homes for mated couples, a med-tech center. A school." He pauses, shaking his head like he still can't believe it.
It's too much, and I sit up, staring at him. "What are you talking about?" I demand. "Say it, Arjun. In clear words."
He leans forward, intent, "A City—a Shielded City, Sabah, with no Quota. No Insurance. No Commission."
I shake my head. I can't believe him. It's impossible—things like this do not exist. I feel, for a moment, like we are in a story. One of Berg's stories, where the unbelievable happens. I always hated those stories—with very few exceptions, I could not understand the allure of the impossible. It was cruel, offering something unreachable.
"But—acidstorms, the dragons—you can’t have a City, Arjun, it's too dangerous."
I know how weak my words sound, and I bite my lip, trying to stop them. He laughs, and nods. "Yes—except we have the same protections any Commission controlled City does."
"What happens if they attack you?" I whisper, voicing a fear that makes my chest seize.
He's silent, for so long I finally look up at him, curious to see what he is thinking.
"We're disguising our Shield. Rook and one of the ban-wolves have been working on it—a way to scramble our Shield signature, so that the Commission doesn't recognize it on scans. And—," he hesitates, stopping as he stares at me with those wide gold eyes. I can see the desire to tell me, warring with loyalties that hold him back.
"Is it hidden?" I ask, carefully. I do not want to be a tool used against him, against any of them—not ever. I do not want to know the location of their secret City. I want them safe.
"Yes," he whispers. A sigh slips from me, a sigh of relief. Tears stand in my eyes, tears of happiness that they have this City, this safe-haven. And grief, that I will not see it.
Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Page 13