I stop, turning to look at Arjun. He’s glaring at Merc again. “Arjun?” I say, softly.
His eyes are full of sadness and regret, so broken they pull a sound of distress from me.
“The pack left. Rook and Gali and Jade should be gone by now and were the last in the cave. When we leave you at the Manor, we’re going to meet them—the cave holds nothing that can betray our location to the Commission.”
I hear what he isn’t saying, what he is careful to avoid, with Merc watching us. After the acidstorm, they have fled to the safe haven of their City.
“Why?” I whisper, my eyes darting between the two ban-wolves. One is lazy and disinterested, one looking so devastated I wonder if I am wrong—is leaving me outside Mlena what he really wants?
I shake the seeds of doubt before they can offer false hope, gritting my teeth.
“Berg. The Commission—even the Mistress. Rook doesn’t want you to be used against us by them—so we’re leaving before you can be,” Merc says when Arjun doesn’t respond.
It makes sense. In a way, I am grateful. But it is a slight gratitude, overshadowed by the knowledge that he will be truly gone. Hearing it so definitively forces me to acknowledge the small hope I have harbored—that he will still run the Shield. That he will watch me, from afar. That I still matter, that he cares, even if only a tiny bit.
I turn away. “We need to keep moving.”
“Sabah,” Arjun says, catching my arm in a gentle grip. “I didn’t think it would be this soon.”
I smile at him, and cannot believe that anyone—especially Arjun—would ever believe it was real. “It’s nothing, Arjun. My life is there.”
He releases me abruptly, his eyes going blank. Nods. “As long as you’re happy.”
I want to scream at him, want to slap that hatefully blank look off his face and force him to see how not happy I am. Pride is the only thing that keeps me from breaking down.
Stripped of him, I cling to what I have: dignity and pride. If he doesn’t care, I will not let him see how much I still do.
**
As darkness deepens, Arjun scouts ahead, looking for somewhere suitable to make camp for the night. Merc walks beside me, and casually says, “You know where we are going, then?”
I look at him, startled. Before I can blank my face, he nods, seeing the truth in my eyes.
“It’s a chance, Sabah. At a life,” he says.
“It’s a very good chance for the pack,” I agree.
“He’ll miss you.”
I shrug. “He’ll survive.”
A short, derisive laugh answers me, and we lapse into silence. Arjun screams from somewhere ahead of us, and I glance at Merc, questioningly.
“He found a place to camp, ahead,” Merc says, his pace lengthening. I hurry to keep up with his long stride. Something is bothering me, and I touch his arm.
“Wait,” I say. We slow, and he looks at me. “What do you think of this?” I ask, quickly. “Of me, staying at the Manor?”
“I think you’re both being idiots,” he says without hesitation. “But you have to see that for yourself.”
He smiles at me then, a smile free of complacency, and disgust and judgment—a smile that is pure and sweet and sad.
**
The fire has burned down, and Merc is sleeping. Arjun holds me against his chest as I watch the flames. He’s quiet, watching the darkness that surrounds us. “Arjun.”
He murmurs into my hair and I twist in his arms to stare up at him. “I have something for you.”
I’ve been thinking about it, since talking to Merc before we made camp. I don’t want to leave Arjun tomorrow, especially now that I know it will be a final goodbye. But staying with him is not an option that I have either.
I slip out the small picture, and squelch the lingering feeling that this is betraying Berg—even if he goes to the City, he will be able to see me, visit me. Arjun won’t. That will make up for one small photo.
Arjun’s golden eyes stare at it for a long time, and then find mine. They’re dark, and somehow remote, removed. “What is this for?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t want you to forget me,” I whisper, ducking down to hide against his chest.
Arjun makes a noise that sets my pulse racing, and his claws prickle against my scalp as he clutches my hair, pulling me up to face him. “I could never forget you,” he whispers fiercely, and I make a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a cry. His lips are on mine, demanding, hungry, like a force of nature. I whimper against him, twisting and pulling him closer—can he be any closer? His mouth moves over mine hungrily, and he nips at my lower lip, so gentle his sharp teeth do not even break skin.
I taste salt in the same heartbeat he does. He pulls away, and his expression softens, the heat fading away in the face of my tears. “It’s not goodbye, Sabah,” he murmurs, “not yet. We still have a few days—until you can talk to your Mistress and Berg.”
His words seem to loosen something in me, an impossible tightness I did not even realize was there. I gasp a full breath, and feel almost dizzy. He smiles, and pulls me down, stroking my hair. “Sleep, sweetheart. You have a long day tomorrow.”
Chapter 20
We are walking slowly, hand in hand—knowing he is leaving me here, I cannot release him until I have to. The river is a steady gurgle at first, gradually gaining momentum until it rushes past us in its bed, racing to a sharp plunge and jagged rocks.
Distantly, I can see the glow of City lights.
Merc and Arjun stop at a bend in the river, exchanging a look. Merc looks at me, and he smiles lazily. “Remember to think about what I said, Sabah,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I nod, and he steps back. “I’ll wait for you,” he says, glancing at Arjun.
My ban-wolf nods, tense.
The wind is pushing at me, stinging my legs through the thick pants. In my socks and boots, my toes are numb. I know the Manor is warm, safe, a fire is roaring in the study and the kitchen, and Lilith is setting the table—even after a month away, I know the routine they follow.
And yet I am rooted, unable to move, waiting for some signal from Arjun. He reaches up, catching a tendril of my hair around his claw. “Give me your hand,” he whispers.
I hesitate before I extend it, palm up. Faster than I can follow, he has something silky and supple tied around my wrist. “It is only right you have a token of me as well,” he murmurs.
I nod, refusing to look down. He swims in my vision, and I roll my eyes up, hating that he will see me cry. Again. I do not want to cry.
He kisses me, so unbearably softly it pulls a shudder of longing and grief from me. And then he pushes me, lightly, toward the house. “Go, Sabah. I’ll be here—waiting. You know where to find us.”
I stumble a little, shifting my pack on my shoulders. Behind me, I hear a soft rustle of movement. I don’t look—if I look back at him, I will never go forward, never go back into the Manor. I will forget pride and dignity and beg to stay with him.
I stop by the big pine, and assess the house. It’s quiet, but lights are gleaming behind the window shields. Somewhere, in there, are secrets none of us ever guessed. And the friend who loves me, in his flawed way.
I take a deep breath, and focus on my children—Kaida, the boys, Spiro, Sari and Keeyla—the children I have raised and cared for. I straighten my shoulders, and can almost feel the warmth of Arjun’s lips as I stride to the side door.
The smell of stew and bread is so strong it makes my knees weak. It is my first thought, as heat soaks into me and I close the door soundlessly behind me. The tiny alcove is full of cloaks and shoes and the smell of home.
I can hear humming, soft and off-key, Cook’s habit when no one is around to listen. She has her back turned to me when I enter the kitchen, and for a moment, I just stand in silence, watching her move around the counter, slicing and stirring and humming to herself.
I let my bag drop to the ground and she jerks around.
Cook’s eyes widen so slightly I would have missed it if I wasn’t watching for it. Then her lips compress in a thin line and she shakes her head at me. “Best get yourself cleaned up, and go see Mistress—dinner will wait.”
“I can’t just slip in at dinner?” I ask, grinning. She snorts, and I sigh. “No, I suppose not.”
Cook watches me with a critical eye as I pull my wet sweater off. “You’ve lost weight, girlie.”
I shrug. “Food is a bit scarce Outside.”
I turn away before she can voice the questions I see in her eyes. “Mistress is in her study?” I ask, leaving. I don’t wait for an answer—of course she is. Where else would she be? As I climb the stairs, a thousand memories assail me, all tainted with the new knowledge of the secrets hidden by the woman we trusted.
I should take a moment to change, to clean up and brush my hair. I don’t—I am not ready to face the children, and the more time I spend in the halls of the house, the greater the chances of them finding me. The anger that has simmered in me for days has a target, and I want to confront her. So I dart up the stairs, skipping the fourth one—the squeaky floorboard will draw anyone curious within hearing range.
I breathe easier when I am in the flickering darkness of the third floor. Mistress has always spent most of her time in the dark halls of the third floor, the quiet rooms behind closed doors—and in all my years within the walls of the Manor, I have never pushed that solitude. I have never entered her quiet study or invaded her space without invitation.
I pause in the hallway—wondering if my hesitation and fear will rise. I feel almost empty without them. When they don’t come, I move forward, to the only door with a strip of light glowing from beneath it.
Without knocking, I open the door, and slip inside. In the silence, I watch them, bent over a book and tablet, her voice a soft murmur as he scribbles notes. They look up slowly, as if reluctant to be pulled from their work. I smile at them, icy cold.
“Sabah?” Berg gasps, a glass shattering at his feet. The Mistress is staring at me, her eyes wide, almost afraid.
I smile, and see her flinch. Something puzzled fills Berg’s eyes, but I ignore it for now. How different do I seem to them? “Cook thought I should let you know I’m back. I was going to wait until dinner, but she thought right away was best,” I say, nonchalantly, leaning against the door.
There is a moment of heavy silence, and then, “Where have you been?” Berg asks, his voice choked.
I shrug, choking down the anger that’s filling me. It is easier, far easier, to let myself be angry, than to face the pain. “Away,” I say. I straighten, and smile tightly. Berg pales. “I’ll let you get back to,” I wave a hand, vaguely, “that. I’m going to shower and dress.”
“Sabah, wait,” Berg says, stepping forward. Glass crunches under his feet, and I glance at him, over my shoulder.
“Why?” I ask, all warmth leeched from my voice. There is a long silence, and he looks to the Mistress, almost pleading.
I laugh, a disgusted noise, and leave.
**
When I step out of the shower cube, there is a towel and one of my dresses sitting on the counter, waiting for me. I dry myself, slipping into the dress and rubbing my hair vigorously. I wonder who thought to bring them. Word will have spread through the house—but Cook will bully the younger children into obedience, and I will be able to avoid most of their questions—for now. As I brush my hair, thrilling in the sensation of it, a thin strip of white catches my attention.
For the first time, I look at my wrist.
The braid seems elaborate at first, twisting and turning in a way that defies the eye to follow. I bring it closer to my face, and the smell—wild, earthy, a hint of pine—hits me, hard. Tears blur my vision, and I roll my eyes, blinking rapidly, forcing the tears down.
It is a supple bracelet of tiny braids, woven together. Pristine white and— finally— I understand what it is.
A lock of Arjun’s hair, long and silky soft.
My memento. I sigh, a smile turning my lips. It is small and insignificant, and so pale it fades against my skin. Something forever in plain sight, marking me as his, but so easy to dismiss it is almost laughable.
I wonder how long it will take Berg to notice.
That makes me smirk and I pick up my clothes, rolling them into my damp towel before I leave the lavatory.
I can hear the hush of voices, low but excited, as I walk through the halls. Kaida’s voice is high and piercing, and healthy, “She’s back, Guin.”
“But Berg said she’s to be left alone.” The little boy’s voice is serious and solemn.
I hear a sniff, and grin. Kaida seems to be developing a bit of an attitude. “Berg can’t be pulled from his books long enough to pay attention to the weather—he won’t even notice if we talk to her.”
A grunt of approval—from Cedric, probably. “Don’t you want to see her?” Kaida’s voice is lower now, wheedling, and Guin sighs, defeated. A low chuckle comes from Cedric, and I push open the door to the boys’ bedroom. Kaida is seated on Cedric’s bed, nestled against Guin, her head resting on his shoulder. Cedric stands a few steps away, watching with bright gray eyes.
Kaida’s eyes find me first, and she lets out an excited squeal—and that fast, my worry is gone. She throws herself at me, a force so unstoppable I gasp as I catch her, and we spin, the momentum of her weight making me stumble. She is making a soft noise, almost a purr of pleasure. I shush her. “I’m here, sweet. I’m here.”
She pulls away to look at me reproachfully. “You missed my birthday.”
I feel a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, darling. It’s a long story.” All of them perk at that—they love stories. I smile, affectionately. “But you need to go down to dinner first.”
Kaida glances at the boys, and gives a small twitch of her head. Cedric straightens, and extends a hand to pull Guin to his feet. Without looking back, they exit the room, leaving me alone with Kaida.
She looks healthy—her movements are loose, free. Her ribs seem to have healed, her hair longer.
But what startles me is not the healthy sheen to her hair, or the way she moves—it is the glint of knowledge in her eyes, and the way she was with Cedric and Guin. Something has changed, in the past month that I have been away. She's matured, in ways that I cannot pinpoint. I want to blame it on her brush with the Falls, but I know better—she has changed in my absence.
"Where have you been?" she asks, and her voice is older than her years.
A sigh slips from me—innocence and maturity in one tiny package will be a challenge in the Manor.
"Away. I... I can't tell you all of it," I say, honestly.
Her eyes narrow, and her small head tilts. "It's changed you, though."
I nod and she sighs, hugging me tightly. "I've missed you," she whispers, sounding for all the world like a child.
Arjun, waiting in the darkness and the mist, fills my mind. Tears fill my eyes, and I kiss her hair. "I missed you, too."
**
We enter the kitchen together, and I nudge Kaida to her seat between Cedric and Guin. The other girls are watching me as I make my way to my seat at the Mistress' left. I can't help but note Alba's bitter look, and I wonder if she had thought to take my place. I wonder what she would do if I told her how gladly I would give it to her.
For the first time, being a favorite of the Mistress and lover of Berg is not something I want. I want to flee back Outside, to the wild. I remind myself that Arjun does not want me, and take an unsteady breath, going to my chair. I’m surprised that I am not shaking.
"Sabah." Mistress' voice is soft, but carries—the kitchen is utterly silent, waiting for an explanation I don’t want to give. I knew this was coming, had even prepared for it somewhat—there is no way to tell the whole truth. But part of it will do—and the pack is safe now, safe enough that speaking of them will not hurt them, in the end.
"Can we eat, please? I'll tell my story while we eat," I say. Breakfast
seems like so long ago, a distant, painful memory.
Mistress stares at me, her eyes cool, but finally nods. Cook scurries to the table, ladling out a dish of stew for the Mistress. She pushes the rest in my direction, and begins to slice thick bread. I can smell fish baking somewhere, and I lick my lips as she hurries back to the stove and returns with a plate laden with flaky white fish cooked in an herb and oil sauce. She plunks it down in front of me and sniffs. "Eat, girlie."
I can feel all their eyes on me, but after a month of scrutiny by the pack, I am used to being watched. I ignore them and concentrate on my food. I get down four bites before I’m interrupted.
"Sabah?" Berg's voice is strained, full of pleading and curiosity.
I glance up at him from under my lashes, and take another bite of buttered bread. I do not realize how much I have missed bread until I feel its warmth and texture. The pack did not have bread.
"Do you remember," I ask, after swallowing, "that last day I was here?"
Across from me, Berg stiffens, his eyes darting from me to the Mistress involuntarily. For the first time, I look at her. Really look.
She is leaning back in her chair, gray eyes watching me with shrewd intelligence, her rusty red hair piled in a bun. Curling tendrils have escaped, and cascade down either side of her face to frame it. A small smile plays on full red lips. It occurs to me, for the first time, that she is really quite beautiful.
"The Rover was here," I say, and feel the tension slide out of Berg.
She says nothing, waiting.
"I suppose I was a bit overwhelmed—by everything." My eyes flick to Berg. "Hawke, the City. All of it. I went for a walk, and got lost."
Berg sits forward, disbelief filling his eyes. "Where were you? I looked--all I found was a tigercat’s tracks."
I nod, thinking back to that dark, terrifying night. I haven't considered it in all the time I have been with the pack.
"I found a forest, and got lost," I say, looking down at my food. "A bear found me. I don't know why it wasn't hibernating, but it wasn't. The pack rescued me."
Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Page 16