I thought I had it bad, but Rain was right. I was living like a princess. Compared to how everyone out here lives, my life was made. I had food, a private bathroom, hot showers, warmth from the bitter winter cold. All these thoughts fuel determination. A fire burns hot in my chest, growing, raging, threatening to consume me. This is what I needed to bring about Ember’s dying wish. To come into Ky and see its citizens firsthand.
The booths have been set up, and the medical personnel have begun to distribute the antitoxin. I walk up and down the line, watching the show before me. It’s nothing magnificent to see. The people given the antitoxin have no idea they were being brainwashed into submission this whole time. There’s no rejoicing. No cries of joy for clarity of mind. Just confusion.
And some anger at the injustice of their circumstances.
In a way, I feel their rage, I understand their pain. I feel like coming here was my own form of antitoxin, my own form of mental clarity.
Once they’re given the antitoxin, they’re instructed to meet at the courthouse at six, where a feast will take place, a celebration of their freedom, and a speech from me. It’ll be nothing like the Frankfort feasts Titus hosted where people stuff their faces until they’re ready to puke and there’s so much extra food leftover it gets thrown to the tigers. But it’s a feast for the Proletariats. Not boxed meals and tasteless wafers, but fresh foods. Holy Crawford, the Patricians are going to be so pissed when they find out I used their storage to feed the rest of the country.
I cringe, imagining the unrest that’s waiting for me in Frankfort, but try not to let it dim this glorious occasion.
I’m glad I get to personally watch these people—my people—being set free. Titus always said the Proletariats didn’t understand their circumstances, so we’re not doing them any harm by keeping them in the dark, and I believed him. But seeing my people now—with the indifference in their eyes, the sadness of something they can’t quite put a finger on because they’ve been brainwashed into not figuring it out, seeing their ribs distended and the way some suffer from chronic diseases that Titus did nothing to cure—it breaks my heart. Just another thing I’m going to have to figure out—how to cure these diseases. I’m sure Nashville or the Indy Tribe will have some cures. But Indy can be stingy with their resources and Nashville has already cut all ties with me.
I chew my tongue. One bite at a time, Aurora. Walker told me to be present in the moment, Krin told me to take issues one step at a time. So I take a deep breath. Slowly let it out. And refocus my mind to the present.
By noon, about a quarter of the citizens of Trimble County have had their injections. At this rate, the trip around the country might not take as long as I expected.
“Is it utterly torturous?” Rain trots up beside me, his arms linked behind his back while we walk along the injection sites. I’m surprised he didn’t run off last night. I’m a little disappointed he stuck around.
“What?” I ask, nodding at one of the women who just received the news. Tears flow down her cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s mourning all the years she lost, or glad she’s free of mind compulsion. Chale said he could feel his brain expanding and exercising in ways he’d never experienced before. Maybe she’s feeling that energy, too.
“Freeing these people,” Rain says.
“Why would it be torturous?”
“Well, you weren’t exactly jumping on the chance to free them from mind compulsion.”
“You’re right.” I nod in acknowledgement. “I wanted to fix the smaller problems before taking on the larger ones.” I stop and watch as two people—a husband and wife I presume—embrace and smile and laugh. I can’t stop a smile from easing on my own face. “But you know what, Rain? I don’t think I’ve ever felt more joy than I do in this very moment.”
“You haven’t felt much in your life, though, have you?”
I look sharply at him, and he stares back, cold gray eyes unblinking. “I mean, being locked in that room where Titus kept you as his pet, you couldn’t have experienced much of anything. Sorrow. Joy. You were kind of living like a robot, right?”
His words sting. Every time he brings up my past, it hurts. Because I’m trying to move on. I’m trying to leave that hell behind me. And sometimes—sometimes I think I could forget it. After being out of that room for two months, I can almost feel like I could live a normal life.
But Rain’s clearly not going to let that happen, and I hate him for it. Just thinking of Titus opens up a chasm in my chest, and pain and fear consume me until I feel nauseous.
“The ache and loneliness I experienced in that room created a deeper mark on my spirit than you could ever imagine,” I whisper. I clear my throat. “But I did feel joy, occasionally. When I first held Gideon in my arms, that was the deepest love and joy I’d ever felt.”
His eyes snap, and he quickly looks away.
“Sometimes I’d find happiness just by living vicariously through other peoples’ lives on my surveillance screens,” I add.
“Like when you watched criminals get burned to death upside down?”
I wince, then look at him full on. “One time I watched you get turned down flat by another girl.” I grin up at him, knowing just how much he hates the ruffling of his ego, but realizing just a second too late that I shouldn’t have said that, because his eyes are flashing with anger.
“Really?” His voice is low and barely controlled. “And which girl was that?”
“I…I don’t…” Wow, his ego is more fragile than I thought. What can I say to ease his anger? It was a joke. I’ve never actually seen him get turned down. Except—oh.
Oh no.
“Because,” he says. “There’s only one girl who ever turned me down flat. And she’s dead.”
I close my eyes, the shock of his words stinging me. I meant that as a joke. But what was I thinking? All other girls practically threw themselves at him. All except Ember. I curse myself and turn away from Rain before I say anything else.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is cold and detached laced with hatred. “Got your jab in and now you’re done talking?”
“I think it’s better that we stop talking, Rain.”
“No way.” He steps in front of me, blocking my path. “You dragged me on this shoddy trip. You gotta deal with the consequences.” He steps closer, so close I begin to wonder if he has a dagger hidden in his belt and is planning on stabbing me. Here. Now. The way Mcallister talked about him not caring about his life, it’s not out of the question. “So tell me,” he’s saying, “exactly why you thought now would be a good time to bring up Ember?”
“I meant it as a joke, Rain. I didn’t know—I didn’t think—”
“That’s right. You didn’t think. Joking about your sister who is dead? The girl—the girl I loved?” He gives a brief shake of his head and steps back, his eyes raging silver bullets. “Low blow, Rory. Low. Blow.” He turns around. And walks away. And what hurts the most is the way he used the nickname only Titus uses.
He has no right to do that.
Lunging forward, I grab his arm to stop him. He turns fully to face me, the fire in his eyes makes me shrink, but I force my chin up, remember to be fearless and invincible.
“Don’t you ever call me Rory again.”
His brows shoot up and he smirks. “Too familiar? Remind you too much of Titus?”
“I’m your chief.”
He snorts and gives me a once-over. “You’re pathetic. You can’t even get your own people to follow you. You had to bribe Cherry to convince everyone to attend your little ball. I don’t know what you offered Mcallister to make him your guard dog, but I’m sure you’ve blackmailed him by using his family against him somehow. You’re no leader, Rory.” He sneers. “You’re nothing but a marred reflection of Titus, a sorry attempt at being the chief he was, a shadow. And after you’re dead, when a worthy chief has taken over, your name won’t even be remembered.”
> He spins around and stalks off, and I’m left speechless. All my courage evaporated somewhere between Rain calling me pathetic and a shadow, and all my doubts take its place.
I hate Rain Turner. I imagine returning to Frankfort after all this has blown over and sending him to prison for life. Or better yet, compelling his own tiger to finish him off. But I couldn’t do that to Krin. I couldn’t do that to Ember. I couldn’t execute him without hurting others.
But I can certainly get even.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
RAIN
Just when I open myself up to Aurora, thinking, hoping that maybe everyone else is right about her, she goes and proves me right and everyone else wrong. I knew she didn’t care about Ember or the fact that she died. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be making jokes about her so soon after her death. Of course she only reveals her true self to me. Not Walker. Not Mcallister. Just. Me.
Chale talked to me into striking up a conversation with Aurora today. He told me to try and dig deeper into who Aurora is. He told me maybe I should have more one-on-ones with her and find out her true motives myself. But one little questions and POP goes the weasel.
Literally.
On the third evening in Trimble County, Aurora hosts a party in celebration of everyone being vaccinated. I stand among the crowd. Everyone has finished the feast laid before them. Some feast. It’s less elaborate than a dinner we got served in our households every day. Of course the Prots don’t know that, so Aurora might as well give as little as she can and reap their praise. Like she is right now.
She walks onto the makeshift stage set up for this occasion, her hair in a careless bun, her jeans dirty. She wears a black vest that looks like something to keep away the spring chill, but I know it’s bullet-proof. The sun is setting, sending long shadows across the town square. I cross my arms and lean my shoulder against a post.
I hate Aurora. I hate her smooth talk, her innocent demeanor, the way she glides across the stage as though she’s been preparing for this moment her entire life. And maybe she has. Maybe this entire thing is a ruse set up by Titus. She smiles at the cheering crowd as she picks up the microphone, and I realize that I even hate her smile. Because her smile looks entirely too much like Ember’s. It’s like she stole it from the girl I loved. She carries it around in her pocket and pulls it out to wear like a mask to win the love of her people.
And only I can see through it.
“My people.” Her voice comes out smooth and lucid and confident. The cheers and clapping quiet down when she speaks. “As you all know by now, my brother, Chief Titus, had you brainwashed on Career Day. He had delegates train you by compelling you to believe the chief is great, the system is fixed, and to never question anything that has to do with government.” She takes a shaky breath and slowly lets it out.
The crowd watches her reverently, enraptured by her every word. They worship her. It’s almost like Aurora is brainwashing them in her own special way. Like she let Titus think she was learning to be chief for his sake, but the moment she has a chance to escape, she brought him down and took his place. And Walker, leader of the Resurgence, helped her. Will he always be blind to her true colors? When will he come back to us?
“Titus,” Aurora is saying, “scared you into submission. He had Defenders—who were also compelled—patrolling the streets. He had cameras hooked in every public place to keep an eye out for people who overrode their compulsion. And anyone who overrode their compulsion and questioned the system was immediately arrested and executed. Like my sister, Ember Carter.”
The mention of Ember is like a dagger to my chest. I want to shout at Aurora to stop. Just stop. Don’t bring Ember into this; don’t dishonor her name by taking her glory. Holy Crawford, did she really just do that?
“Ember,” Aurora continues, “is the real reason this is happening. She’s the reason I was freed from being locked in the capitol basement.”
—Way to play the victim card—
“And the reason you all are being freed of compulsion today. She set everything in motion. And we will always honor this day. We’ll always remember April twenty-fourth as Ky’s independence day: the day the changes of Ky were set into motion and everyone was set free.”
Loud cheers fill the air. Deafening. Zealous.
“And we will always honor Ember Carter for this day. Because if it wasn’t for her—” Her voice cuts off and she swallows. She looks like she about to cry. Excellent actress, considering she was making light of Ember’s death hours ago. “If not for Ember,” she says again, “Titus would be hosting a feast in Frankfort for his elite Patricians, eating all the food you worked all year to produce. Ember is the spark that has the capacity to burn down an entire city. And she did. By her sacrifice, she took away the old system and replaced it with a new one. Ember’s name will be imprinted on the minds of our children and our children’s children. While the first chief might have had good intentions, Ember saw those intentions through. Ember lit the flame in Ky, and that flame has become a raging fire that has consumed the faulty system this country was built upon. So let’s lift our glasses.” She picks up a wineglass and lifts it in the air. The clink of glasses echoes through the alleyway as the people do the same. Aurora says, “And salute to Ember Carter, Deliverer of Ky.”
More cheers. More clinks of glasses. And then people begin chanting. And it takes me a moment to realize what they’re saying but when I do…I can’t breath. Ember’s name rolls off their tongues in unison, like a drum beating to the rhythm of liberty.
Em-ber! Em-ber! Em-ber!
Her name fills the air, first like a flame, then like a raging fire—a resonating sound of awe and respect, and I wish so bad these people could have known Ember like I did.
Because she was a true leader.
My anger ebbs away and the aching pain rips open in my chest. A gaping wound. A hole that will never be refilled. I place my fist on my chest and look up, and my eyes lock with Aurora’s. It’s because of her Ember is dead. The sorrow in her eyes refuels my rage, and the fact that she could mock my pain by feigning her own makes my resentment almost choke me.
I hate Aurora. I can’t—I can’t stand here and watch her play the part of an accidental hero.
So I turn around, the ache growing, fighting, smothering any sense of accomplishment I’ve made at the new normal I’ve been able to create for myself, and I stumble down the alleyway.
This was a mistake, coming with Aurora. Traveling Ky when I feel like I’m literally bleeding out. My life is shattered. I’ve hit the ground and gone right through. My entire upbringing a hell, and now this.
“Why?” I ask to that air. Why only a few months of bliss? Why only a glimmer of hope, a sliver of light in the gaping black hole that is my life? Why only an ember that would flare only to die out?
Ember asked me on our last days together if God spoke to us individually, if he called us individually to do his work. And I said no, I didn’t think God worked like that.
And I stand by what I said. Because how could God pluck a simple girl out of the Garden, begin stirring the winds of change, only to strip her spirit from her when she was doing the very thing he asked of her? Does he even care? I thought God wanted freedom for his people, but maybe not. Because I’ve done everything in my power for the past three years to bring peace to Ky. And we traded in one bad leader for another. So maybe…maybe God is the villain. Maybe he is bad, as bad as Titus.
WAIT.
I stop walking. Pause. Look over my shoulder. It’s been a while since I felt the overwhelming, calming, yet demanding Presence.
Wait for what? I ask the Unseen. Because how much worse can these circumstances get? Aurora will free the people of mind compulsion, and then what? Continue leading like Titus? It’d almost be worse, because then the Proletariats will know. They will know the reality of their terrible circumstances.
God, how can I wait? I’ve been waiting three years. The Re
surgence has been waiting decades. How can you tell me to wait when your people are suffering?
No answer.
I look up at the night sky, but the stars are blotted out by the city’s light pollution, kind of like the way the horrible circumstances of Ky have blotted out the Light of God.
And I don’t know.
I don’t know if I can believe anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AURORA
Breathe in. Breathe it all in.
Allow the energy to fill up my lungs, flow through my muscles, igniting my bones, and surging through my veins. Feel it pour down my arms and into my fingers, burrowing into my soul.
Exhale back into the universe.
Another breath.
More energy cascading down my body, from my head to my feet, simultaneously calming, soothing, and empowering.
I am a princess cut from onyx and smooth as marble.
I am a queen sharpened from steel.
I am power.
My life is my own and no one can control me.
Breathe in. Breathe it all in.
Power. Freedom. It’s mine. It’s in my hands.
No more fear, Aurora.
* * *
I wish I could have some meaning to my name like Ember did. She told me about how Mother had mentioned that she was the ember that would one day blow over Ky. Mother didn’t know I was alive, but did she expect Ember to take down Titus—Mother’s son? Or did she hope he would be good? Ember said Mother was exactly what a mother figure was supposed to be. Warm. Loving. Affectionate.
But I have a hard time imagining her like that.
With the morning sun warming my face, drawing me out of slumber, I try hard to imagine Mother running her fingers through my hair. What if she truly did want Ember to take down the remaining Whitcombs? What if she imagined Ember taking down Titus and me? What if my surviving while Ember died would have been a huge disappointment to her?
white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3) Page 17