white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3)

by Sara Baysinger

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Get some rest. That’s an order.”

  Chale nods, then offers a sleepy smile. “Yes, Chief.” He lays in the corner of the room, facing the opposite direction. In a matter of minutes, his deep breaths even out with his sleep. I walk to the window and keep watch. It’s hard to see anything in the pitch black of night. But I imagine if the politicians are around, there would be some source of light coming our way.

  So many worries cloud my mind. So much uncertainty for the future. Uncertainty about whom to trust. Walker is the only person from the Resurgence who trusts me completely. I clearly don’t have the politician’s trust, nor do I have Rain’s. I thought Mcallister trusted me, but if he’s communicating with Rain instead of me, then I’m not so sure he trusts me either.

  Footsteps sound down the road. I slink back against the wall, hold my breath, until I see Rain’s silhouette in the moonlight. A sigh of relief. He steps inside, and I can just barely make out the bottle of who-knows-what in his fist.

  “You went to the town square,” I say.

  “Yep.” He sighs and sinks down along the wall. “I figured I should drink the rum here so I wouldn’t pass out at The Tap.”

  I wonder if he remembers committing to first watch, or if he even cares at this point. He lifts his other hand, and I hear the clink of glasses.

  “Come, have a drink with me.” He sets them down. “I brought three, but looks like Defender Chale couldn’t even keep his eyes open.” He snorts. “Some Defender.”

  “I told him to go to sleep.”

  “Ah. I see. Put him to sleep so he doesn’t witness you killing me.”

  I open my mouth to object, but in the dim moonlight I can barely see his mocking grin. He twists the lid off the bottle. I almost ask how he paid for that, then realize he probably compelled it from the salesperson. Rain, the walking contradiction. Against compelling people, yet he takes advantage of it at every turn. I sit beside him, accept the glass he passes, and take a sip. The alcohol burns my throat, constricts my lungs, and I cough. It’s strong. Stronger than what I thought they had in the rest of Ky.

  Rain downs his glass in a couple swallows, then pulls his knees up and rests his forearms on them, empty glass in hand. He heaves out a sigh and leans his head back.

  “She was—” His voice cuts off, and his Adam’s apple bobs in a hard swallow. “She was always so impulsive.”

  I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about.

  “I should have seen it coming,” he says, his voice raw. “Those last few days, she kept talking about how death didn’t scare her anymore. She was ready.” He turns his head and his eyes find mine, shimmering in the moonlight like two silver moons. “She kept bringing you up. Telling me you were the better option.”

  This surprises me. I mean, Ember and I had a good heart-to-heart that last night, but I thought she didn’t trust me. I didn’t—and still don’t—understand why she would trust me so much to give her life up for me. But then, she didn’t give it up for me. Not really. She gave it up for Ky and the hope of a good leader. Some leader I am. I can’t even get my people to like me.

  “I got so angry every time she brought you up,” Rain is saying. “But I wish I had at least heard her out. I wish I could see you through her eyes. I wish I could see what she saw. No offense, Aurora, but all I see when I look at you is a female version of Titus.”

  His openness leaves me speechless. And I suddenly get it. The reason he hates me. He sees Titus—he sees a dictator—in me. But why can’t he get past that?

  “You…you had no problem seeing Ember as a comrade,” I say. “So why can’t you see me in the same light?” I lift my eyes to his. “Why do you only see me as a villain?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  RAIN

  Why do you only see me as a villain?

  I stare back at Aurora. And I see Ember.

  But I also see Titus’s green, conniving eyes. And I remember the way she posed as Ember after Ember disappeared in the ashen city. I remember the way she lied for Titus, tried to wipe Ember’s existence off the planet by her presence. I remember finding out my mother spent my entire childhood raising Aurora. And my hatred seeps back into my bloodstream, gushing into my heart, flooding my brain. Why did I save Aurora? Why couldn’t I just let the politicians have her blood? I look at the bottle in my hands, wondering why the shoddy inferno I invited her to drink with me.

  “You weren’t exactly on our side in the beginning,” I mutter. “You were playing Ember’s part with the full knowledge that Titus was using you as a puppet to get rid of her.”

  “I was doing the only thing that would get me out of that room. Rain, I know it’s no excuse, but Titus fed me lies all my life. He convinced me Ember was bad. That she was out to get us. And I knew he wasn’t in the right all along. I knew our government was corrupt and needed saving, and I’d planned to make those changes if I ever had the opportunity. But I didn’t know the Resurgence had the same goal in mind. I didn’t know Ember wanted to fix things. Titus told me Walker took Gideon. He also told me Ember was working with you guys all along, and her only plan was to kill us. I knew Titus was bad. But I had no idea you and Ember and the Resurgence were good.”

  I stare at her. I look for something I always saw in Titus: a wall with a mocking smile behind it. I could always tell when he was lying. I don’t know why Forest never saw it, but I saw it all along.

  But Aurora doesn’t possess that mockery. I always thought she was better at hiding it, but now I’m beginning to wonder. Because Ember was pretty sharp when it came to judgment of character. She knew Forest only wanted the best intentions for the government, even though he had a horrible solution to fix it. She knew from the get-go that Titus was a pathological liar. And she trusted Aurora completely. So what’s holding me back? Why can’t I believe in the cause Ember gave her life for?

  I smirk.

  Her eyes snap. “What?”

  “We should play a game.” One more test to quiz her sincerity.

  The shock on her face doesn’t go unnoticed by me. “It’s kind of dark to be playing…games.”

  I nod and begin pouring the rum. “This is a drinking game. I’m sure you’re all too familiar with them.”

  “I never drank. That is, until I got out of confinement.”

  I look sharply at her. Must be why she hardly took a sip of her rum. “Titus never…gave you anything to pass the long nights in that underground room?”

  “No. Of course not. He didn’t have to please me like he pleased the Patricians, although he always did have a drink for himself when he graced me with his presence.”

  Her bitterness works to her advantage.

  “Okay. Well, you’re not going to do too well at this game, then.” I can’t smother my snort. “But this game isn’t so much about drinking”—I snap my gaze to meet hers—“as it is about telling the hard, raw truth.”

  A small smile fights its way to her lips, and I catch a glimpse of the humor that’s so rare in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to play?” she asks. “You know everything about me, while your secrets are still concealed. If you expect honesty from me, I expect the same from you.”

  “No worries on my part. I may break a lot of rules, but when it comes to drinking games, I’m the game police.” I pass her a glass, then set mine down. “The game we’re playing is called ‘I never.’ One of us says ‘I never’ and then names the action. Whoever has done the action has to drink. If you really have never, then you don’t drink.”

  She lifts her glass in a salute. “Charge on, Rain Turner.”

  Brave girl. I lift my own glass off the floor. “I never had a child.”

  The humor vanishes from her eyes and her mouth opens in a gasp. I meant for this game to dig deep. I meant for it to get to the nitty gritty right away, to reveal the witch behind the façade. But the look in Aurora’s eyes makes me immediately regret my decision. Don
’t back down. I need to know. I need to know if there is a Titus inside there, brewing, hiding away. And to do so, I need to dig deep. I arch a brow.

  She takes a sip of her shot. She’s supposed to down the whole thing, but seeing as she’s never even had hard liquor until recently…

  “Your turn,” I say.

  She lifts her eyes to mine. “I never knew my mother.”

  Good one, vixen. “I hardly knew mine.” I down my shot anyway, while she sips, then I pour another. “I never hated my father.”

  We both drink. And my question is answered. Because I wondered if she held any fondness toward her father, Chief Aden.

  “I never…” she begins, staring at the floor while she thinks. “Loved my brother.”

  I think of Forest and flinch. Low blow.

  “You never loved Titus?” I ask.

  “Not really. I respected him for a while. But once Krin entered the picture, I realized what a terrible person he was. But I don’t remember ever having any affection toward him. I had more affection for my maid who was instructed not to speak to me than I did for him.”

  Interesting. I drink, because I did love my brother. Holy Crawford, I loved him. I swallow the shot, simultaneously swallowing the lump in my throat. Even if he did try to turn me in to the chief, I loved him.

  My turn. “I never changed my identity to make people like me.”

  She narrows her eyes, then sips the last of her contents. I refill her shot glass.

  Leaning her head back, she says. “I never…hated anyone for absolutely no reason other than because her looks reminded me of someone I loved and lost.”

  Her words are like a blow to the stomach. Did she seriously bring Ember into this? Right in Ember’s house? I drink. Time to get real.

  “I never had a one-night stand.” I practically spit the words out.

  Her mouth opens in a gasp. “Seriously?”

  I shrug. She drinks.

  “With whom?” I ask. “Who’s Gideon’s father?” I’m dying to know.

  “Not part of the game, Turner. My turn.” She pins me with those always-smiling eyes. “I never killed a man.”

  My turn to be shocked. She has to bring that up, when she already knows my records?

  “Your brother,” I seethe, “Forced me to gather twenty citizens, only because he wanted to use them as target practice for the Defenders. He had them killed. By my Defenders. I have the blood of twenty young men and women on my hands because of Titus.”

  She tears her gaze from mine and looks at her drink.

  I stifle a string of curse words, then down my shot. I’m not backing down now. But what takes me aback is when she lifts her own glass to her lips. Her hands trembling, she sips. Once. Twice. Then a third time until the glass is empty.

  Questions fill my mind. “Who have you killed?”

  She lifts her eyes to mine again, but this time tears are blurring her pupils.

  “Well,” she says carefully. “I have Ember’s life on my hands. And Forest’s.”

  The shock of that statement leaves me speechless. The fact that she would so readily accept their deaths as her fault almost makes me feel guilty.

  She releases a shuddering sigh and looks down. “And my father’s.”

  Wait, what? “Y-your father’s?”

  She nods. “Didn’t you ever wonder how he died?”

  “A heart attack.”

  “Yes. That’s what Titus told everyone.” She releases a hollow laugh. “Good cover-up, brother.”

  “So, wait,” I say. “You killed him?”

  She looks at me, her smile holding absolutely zero remorse. “I poisoned him.”

  Holy Crawford. Little vixen killed the chief. Never thought I’d hear that one.

  “He only visited me on my birthday,” she continues. “And those visits weren’t very pleasant. I looked too much like mother, and he had some serious rage to get out on her. So, when the time came to end those visits, I was ready.”

  A disturbing coiling forms in the pit of my stomach. Those visits weren’t very pleasant. I open my mouth to ask what she meant. But then maybe I don’t want to know. If her father was anything like mine, I can imagine.

  I clamp my mouth shut and look away, guilt eating at my ribcage while chills spread across my skin. I don’t want to believe a word she’s saying. I want to imagine her holed up in the Chief’s Mansion, living the life of a princess, not a prisoner. I want to see her the way I see Titus, so that when I kill her, it will be easy.

  But I can’t. Because she’s too real. She’s too much like Ember, and not just in looks, but in spirit. Sure, Ember was more outspoken, a bit more opinionated. But Aurora possesses that same fire Ember had. And the same innocence.

  “Your turn,” she whispers, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden silence that’s invaded the room. The bottle is half empty, and I’m already feeling lightheaded from the alcohol, but there’s one more thing I need to know.

  I lift my eyes to hers. “I never lied to my uncle so he would help me reach the highest level of leadership.”

  She looks at me, unblinking, but doesn’t drink. “Everything I’ve told Jonah Walker,” she says, “has been one-hundred percent true. Ever since I met him. I was honest in the caverns, and I’ve been completely honest with him since he returned to Frankfort with me. I’m not using him to gain trust from the Resurgence or you, Rain. I’m accepting his help, because Walker and I want the exact same thing for Ky: freedom of mind and a wholesome government run on good morals.”

  I almost believe her.

  I want to believe her.

  Maybe I’ve drunk too much, but I do believe her.

  Yes, she could be lying in the moment, but she opened up about everything else. I mean, admitting that she killed Chief Aden was a huge step of trust. I could easily get her dethroned and arrested by that treasonous statement alone. So why would she lie about being honest with Walker? And if what she’s saying is true, then everything she’s told Walker about freeing Ky is true, too. What if Aurora Whitcomb really, truly wants the same thing as the Resurgence? As me?

  What if she’s not the villain?

  “Who left those marks on your back?”

  Her question takes me off guard, and then a burning wave of rage sweeps across the back of my neck. “Like you said, that’s not how this game works.”

  “Okay,” she says, arching a Patrician brow. “I’ve never been struck across the back by another person.”

  I glare at her. Utter a curse. And drink. She looks away and drinks too. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I feel the sudden need to open up. Besides, it’s only fair, after everything she’s said tonight.

  “My father,” I begin, dragging my hand down the length of my face. “He used to use a rod on me and Forest whenever we misbehaved. I have, like, ten times more markings than Forest, because I got into a lot more trouble.” I shrug. “It was the way my father kept control. And I think…I think he enjoyed it a little. I think it was his way of letting off steam.”

  Her breath releases in a small gasp. I look at her, expecting to find a triumphant grin or some hint of mockery, but she looks appalled.

  “I’m so sorry, Rain,” she whispers. “I—I had no idea. I thought maybe they were from some Defender instructed to do so for some reason, but I didn’t even think your own father would…” She shakes her head, then looks away, shakes her head. And Aurora Whitcomb—prisoner to her own family, mounted to the place of leadership only to be hated by everyone under her rule—takes my hand in hers and gives it an oddly comforting squeeze.

  And it’s like she’s reaching inside my chest and squeezing my heart. Only one girl ever did this to me. Only one girl ever made me feel vulnerable and strong at the exact same moment. And though I feel absolutely no attraction toward Aurora, there’s something else there that I felt with Ember. A certain…solidarity.

  “I promise,” she whispers, her voice soft and firm all
at once. “When all this blows over, and Ky is freed and I’m secure in my position as chief, I will let you do whatever you want with your father, even if it means executing him. It’s only fair.”

  Some place deep inside, I know it’s not a lie. It’s a promise. I search her eyes, for the first time, embracing this weird connection we have. For the first time, seeing what Ember might have seen. And I make a mental promise to Ember that I will do everything in my power to keep Aurora in her place as leader. Not because she promised my father’s fate in my hands. Not because I have a desperate urge to fix the brokenness I see inside her.

  But because, despite everything Aurora has been through, she’s still strong and steady. Ember was right. Aurora was meant to be the leader of Ky.

  I just don’t understand why Ember had to die to make that happen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  RAIN

  Chale takes the rest of the nightshift. I catch a few hours of sleep, but when the sun rises, Ember’s grave calls my name.

  My head is pounding when I step outside. Should have got water to wash the alcohol out of my system. Holy Crawford. Where’s my peppermint tea when I need it? Aurora’s going to feel ten times worse than me, that being her first time drinking rum.

  Aurora.

  What happened between us last night? We didn’t kiss. Thank the stars. Not that I go around kissing anybody, even when I’m half-drunk. But with Aurora looking just like Ember, and even her humorous side echoing Ember’s humorous side, it could have happened.

  And I don’t think I would ever forgive myself if it did happen.

  My phoneband blinks for the millionth time, and I click it open.

  You haven’t killed our chief yet, have you? Please try to keep her alive. We need her more than you think.

  -Mcallister