by Kate L. Mary
Dinners like this gave the men little to do other than drink. They were uninvolved in political matters, which was often the topic of conversation when Saffron got together with other women, and by this point in his life, Bastian had outlived his usefulness. He had given Saffron a child, which was the extent of his job in this house, and he was now free to live a life of ease. Which to him apparently meant drinking himself into an early grave.
I refilled his glass, and then the glass of Paizlee’s husband, and was just about to return to my spot with the other servants when Lysander waved me over.
My head was down as I crossed the room to him, but I could feel his eyes on me every step of the way, and when I reached him I was unsurprised to find his glass still half full. He put one meaty finger up, signaling for me to wait, and then grabbed the glass, downing the rest of it quickly before setting it on the table. Only he set it on the opposite side of his plate, forcing me to step closer and lean over. This time when his hand moved up my leg, my hand trembled so much that I ended up dribbling wine on the white, lace tablecloth.
“Indra,” Saffron snapped. Her eyes flicked to her son and she let out a sigh, the first sign she had ever given to indicate that she knew what he was up to. “Please be more careful.”
“Yes, mistress. I apologize.”
Curtsying gave Lysander the perfect opportunity to get his hand right where he wanted it. He wiggled his fingers and I had to bite back a yelp. His hand stayed there until I had taken a step back, and by then heat had crept up my neck to my face. I wanted to smash the bottle I was holding over his head. Wanted to hit him again and again until it broke his skull open and his blood painted the walls of this room.
Tears stung at my eyes and I squeezed the neck of the bottle tighter as I returned to my place. Just as I was passing the guard who had spent the last few weeks watching me, he shifted. My gaze flicked up and he captured it with his own, and in that moment I saw something I never thought I would see in the eyes of one of the guards. Sympathy. Even more surprising, was the rage I saw when he looked past me to the table.
7
The kitchen was quiet as we cleaned up from the evening meal. Lysander had made his mark on every woman in the room tonight, me more than anyone. Even though I had known it was coming—wine duty when Lysander decided to grace the house with his presence usually came with consequences—it was still difficult to shake off.
We were still washing the dishes when the door behind us flew open and Saffron called out, “Dining room. Now.”
I set the pot I was holding on the counter and at my side Mira did the same. When I turned, her gaze met mine.
“What do you think happened?” she asked.
Based on Saffron’s tone, I guessed someone had done something wrong. Only I was uncertain what.
“She will let us know soon enough,” I replied as I dried my hands.
Since I knew I had not betrayed the mistress’s trust, I was unconcerned as I followed the other Outliers out of the kitchen. That changed the second I set foot in the dining room and found a teary-eyed Ronan standing at Saffron’s side.
“No,” I gasped as my steps faltered.
“Line up,” Saffron snapped, her eyes surveying the room as we filed out. They seemed twice as cold as usual. Like icicles.
Behind her, sitting with his feet propped up on the table, Lysander wore a malicious smile. His electroprod sat across his lap, not on but ready in case anyone stepped out of line. Bastian, I knew, had gone to bed. He had been too drunk to even stand up by the time the meal had ended, and two guards had helped him up the stairs, a common occurrence in this house.
Mira grabbed my arm on her way by and practically pulled me across the room. The guards were lined up behind Saffron and Ronan, their eyes nearly as emotionless as hers. I searched the group until I found the man I was looking for, the one who had given me a sympathetic look earlier, only the expression he wore now was no different than the men and women around him. He was just as big and strong and looked just as heartless as every other guard in the room. Maybe I had imagined that he had ever been anything else.
Once we were all in place, Saffron stepped forward, leaving poor little Ronan to cry on his own. “Am I not a good mistress? Don’t I give you everything you need?”
Unsure whether or not we were supposed to respond, the other maids and I remained silent.
Saffron continued without demanding an answer, confirming that we had made the right decision by holding our tongues. “I have told each and every one of you already, but let me reiterate it so you don’t forget. As long as you don’t betray my trust, you will have a position here, which means food and survival for your families. But—” She turned to face Ronan. “—if you betray me, you will face the consequences.”
Ronan sniffed, but his head was still down. Without being able to get a good look at his face, it was impossible for me to gauge how bad the situation was. What had he done? Questioned Lysander? Talked back? Something like that would be small, a whipping across his hand, possibly to his backside, but if something more had happened, if he had done something bigger, the outcome could be much, much worse.
Saffron turned to face us and my blood ran cold when her icy gaze landed on me. This was bad, bigger than talking back. But how bad was it? It was hard to say, and impossible for me to imagine what he had done, especially after all the warnings Mira and I had showered him with. Whatever it was though, I felt certain that Ronan’s life was about to be altered, maybe even taken from him.
“Ronan, who has been in my house for only a month,” Saffron began after only a moment’s pause, “was caught stealing. He was charged with gathering the leftover food after dinner, and in the process he slipped two rolls into his pockets.” She looked us all over slowly, giving this news a moment to sink in before saying, “You all know the punishment for stealing, don’t you?”
My heart thudded violently and I found myself stumbling forward, my head down but my eyes up just enough that I was able to see Saffron. “Mistress, please.”
She frowned and behind her Lysander sat up, his stubby legs dropping to the floor with a thud.
“Are you defending his actions?” Saffron asked in a voice that was as icy as the snow.
Yes, I thought. Yes, I am defending his actions. Not because stealing is okay, but because I have seen how he lives. I have seen his starving sisters and I know he only did this to save them.
Out loud I said, “No, mistress. I am only asking that you show him mercy. He is just a child. He was wrong, but you can still show him mercy. Let him return home in shame. Losing the job will be enough of a punishment to teach him a lesson.”
Saffron stepped closer to me and I was forced to lift my eyes from the floor. Her gaze was as cold as her tone, as cold as the stone this city was made out of. “Very few Outliers have the privilege of working in the city, and you know as well as I do that there are people within these walls who wish to change that. It goes beyond Stateswoman Paizlee’s opinions. There are people who don’t want your kind here at all, and they petition for your dismissal every day. If I show this boy mercy and it gets out, there will be outrage. It will feed the flames of change. I must do this for you and for your people. You have to know that.”
I knew no such thing, but I did know what was expected of me and what needed to be done in order to keep my own job, so I bowed my head again, casting my eyes to the floor, and said, “Yes, mistress.” And I hated myself for it.
She turned her back to me and I lifted my eyes just in time to see her nod to the guards. “Send word that there will be a gathering.”
All roads inside the walls led to the town square, which sat in the very center of Sovereign City. If the purpose of this very open area had been something other than the humiliation of my people, it would have been the only place within the walls that did not feel suffocating. But all public activities were conducted in the square, including Outlier punishments. It was where the floggings took place, where the stocks were,
and where Ronan would very soon pay the price for defying the Sovereign.
The square faced the city’s government building, which was the tallest structure inside the walls. It was twice as high as all the other buildings and had a roof that pointed up toward the sky. I had never set foot inside it, but everyone knew this building was the center of Sovereign technology. They grew their food within those walls, in special rooms that had artificial light and rain, and they manufactured everything they needed inside as well. New clothes, shoes, medicine, and luxury items that seemed beyond frivolous to me. Everything that kept this city going was housed inside this building, and it was even rumored that the building was the source of their electricity, although no one knew that for certain. Outliers were allowed inside to harvest food and manufacture the items the Sovereign needed, but most of it was off limits to us, and therefore an utter mystery.
The crowd gathered in the square was already larger than I had expected it to be, with more people pouring in with each passing moment. Years had gone by since a punishment this severe had been dealt out, and despite my powerlessness, I felt the weight of it on my shoulders. I was the one who had chosen Ronan, had brought him into the city. This was my fault. I should have done a better job of warning him, should have made him understand how serious things could be for our people inside these walls. This punishment was on my hands as much, if not more, than it was on Saffron’s, because I could have done more to make Ronan understand the danger he was in.
I stood at the back of the platform with the rest of the Outliers from Saffron’s house. Mira and I had been forced to stay in the city beyond our work hours so we could witness the punishment. Not that we would have left Ronan. He would need help getting home after the ordeal was over, and as the one responsible for bringing him here, I would shoulder the burden.
The sun was already setting over the wastelands, and inside the walls the city had begun to darken. The streetlights were on, shining down on everyone who had gathered to watch. It was mostly the Sovereign who had come running at the news that a gathering had been called, but I spied a large number of Fortis in the crowd as well, towering over the robed figures crammed into the square. Even though the sun was now low in the sky, they still wore the robes as if the heavy fabric was necessary to protect them from the brutal sun. No Outliers would come here unless they were forced to, and thankfully, it seemed as if most had been allowed to return home or stay at their posts. Not like those of us working in Saffron’s house.
The mistress and her family were seated in the middle of the platform, encased in the same robes the other Sovereign wore. Bastian had been roused especially for the gathering, but he looked as drunk as he had during dinner, all slouched over in his chair. The hood of his own robe was up, hiding his face from view, but I had no doubt that he either had his eyes closed or was at the very least struggling to keep them open.
At his father’s side, Lysander wore a smirk that was visible even beneath his hood, and it made my skin feel as if I were crawling with the vermin that lived on the heads of the Fortis. I was unsure which was worse, the look of indifference on Saffron’s face, or the utter glee on her son’s.
The chairs they sat in were elaborate, carved from wood and ornate enough that they would look at home inside the dining room of Saffron’s house, and more than ever before it struck me how wrong all of this was. That the Sovereign should have something so elaborate reserved for punishments while my people lived in huts and starved. How could these people not see how unfair they were being? How could they not understand why Ronan had tried to take the bread? How could I continue to stand back and do nothing?
Because I was powerless.
The murmur of voices echoing through the air died down when Saffron stood, and the long cape she wore swished around her as she walked to the front of the podium. “Bring the boy,” she called, her voice seeming to bounce off the walls of the surrounding buildings.
A door at my back opened with a boom that seemed as loud as a crack of thunder, and footsteps followed only seconds later. I could hear Ronan’s quiet sobs, and as the sound grew closer, I found myself squeezing my eyes shut. They were still closed when the guards dragged the boy by me, but when the footsteps stopped and I heard a grunt that told me Ronan had been forced to his knees, I made myself open them. This was my doing, and ignoring what I had done would not take the blame from my shoulders.
“Ronan of the Outliers has been accused of theft,” Saffron began, her voice ringing out louder than before, but still not loud enough to drown out Ronan’s cries. “He has not only broken our laws, but betrayed our trust, and in order to make restitution for what he has done, he will face punishment.”
Saffron nodded to the Fortis guard at Ronan’s side before returning to her chair. At the front of the platform, the boy was forced onto his stomach by the very same guard that had been watching me for weeks. The one whose eyes I had mistakenly seen swimming with sympathy just hours ago. It took almost no effort for the man to hold Ronan down, but the guard still pressed his knee into the child’s spine. The brutality of it filled me with a burning hate for this guard, this large man who could have held Ronan down with just one hand but instead chose to be rough. He was inhuman, just as all the other Fortis were. This child was no threat to them. Even if Ronan used all the strength inside him, he would be no match for the man at his back.
A second guard grabbed Ronan’s left arm and stretched it out to his side and forced the boy’s palm flat against the ground. The man held the arm in place, and sweat beaded on my forehead. I watched in frozen horror as a third Fortis man stepped forward. The axe in his hand shone under the streetlights, and just the sight of it made me sway.
I had to do something. I had to stop this. How could I stand back and do nothing again? It was wrong. All of this was wrong. I had to stop it.
I stayed where I was, trembling but unable to move.
Ronan balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. He swallowed, and to his credit I could tell that he was working hard to stop from crying. He managed to get his sobs under control, but he must not have been strong enough to fight back the tears, because they ran down his cheeks in a never-ending stream.
The guard with the axe looked toward Saffron, who nodded again. Then the man raised the weapon, and for the second time the electric lights glinted off the blade. I found my own fingers curling into fists as the pounding of my heart echoed in my ears. My gaze was on Ronan, on his tear-streaked face, which was so scrunched up it looked as if he was already in pain. Even though my gaze was not focused on the man with the axe, I saw when he brought it down. My whole body jerked, but I was still focused on Ronan. Still staring at the child’s terrified face.
The thud of the axe against the floor bounced off the walls of the surrounding buildings, echoing through the air. Ronan’s eyes flew open and the tendons in his neck stretched taut, and then his mouth opened and a scream that would haunt me for the rest of my life ripped its way out of him. It seemed to slam into me, knocking the wind from my lungs and making my knees weak. I stumbled back and had to reach out to Mira to stop myself from falling. Her cheeks were streaked with tears when she looked at me, and it was the moment I saw them shimmering on her cheeks that I realized I was crying as well.
8
Ronan was dead weight as I carried him through the city. Mira had gone on ahead, leaving the second the gathering had ended so she could make it to the village and get help. The Sovereign doctor had stopped the bleeding and cauterized the wound to ensure that Ronan did not bleed to death on the way home, and had then given him a small vial of something to help with the pain. But that was it, and I knew Ronan could still die of shock or infection if he did not get help soon.
Isa walked at my side, sobbing. “Is he dead?”
“No,” I huffed, shifting the boy so I had a better grip. I was lucky he was small for his age, especially since I was such a short person, but he was still not easy to carry. “He passed out. Th
e pain was too much.”
It had been more than three years since anyone had been caught stealing inside Sovereign City. Even then it had been an Outlier from another village, so I had not seen the results directly. But I had been told stories, we all had, Ronan included. Even without my warnings, he had known what he was risking when he took that bread, but he had done it anyway. Things with his family must have been worse than I realized.
We reached the gate and I was relieved when the Fortis in charge let us out without a fight. I stumbled as I passed through, and I found myself wishing that Ronan were awake enough to hold onto me, although I knew the wish was selfish. If he were awake, he would be in agonizing pain. The more time he spent unconscious, the better it would be for him.
With the sun down, the Fortis village was more rambunctious than usual, and the verbal abuse began only a beat after the gate banged shut behind me. The men and women who lived here hated us even more than the Sovereign did, a fact I had never stopped to wonder about before. At the moment though, their dislike of Outliers was more than just inconvenient—it would have been nice if someone here had offered to help me carry the boy home—but I suddenly realized that it made no sense. We were not to blame for their position in life, we were even worse off than they were, and yet they despised us and defended the Sovereign. Why? What had happened to make things this way?
A large man stepped from the crowd and blocked my way. “You’re not going to make it very far with that boy, little girl.”
“I will if you move out of my way,” I managed to get out.
Isa looked at me with eyes that were twice as wide as usual, and it suddenly hit me what I had said and who I was talking to. Antagonizing this man would not help me—if anything, it would do the opposite—but the words had just slipped out. I worked hard to hold in the thoughts that popped into my head in and around the city, but at the moment I was exhausted, both emotionally and mentally, and I was ready to burst. It felt as if every emotion I had managed to keep in all day long was trying to erupt out of me, and this man, no matter how big and scary he was, seemed like the perfect target.