by Casey Hays
She exhales a small puff of air, looking at me incredulously. “I doubt that very much. Why would the stock vary at all?”
I don’t like her assumption. Surely the stock can’t all be the same. Can they?
“But how would you know? Have you met others?”
She cocks her head and squints at me.
“No. And I don’t plan to. And I would recommend you do the same. Forget all of this, and just do your part. No more questions.”
I glance at her, but she preoccupies herself with her needle again, so I concentrate on my own. After a minute, she stops and looks at me.
“Did you have an argument with your mate?”
My eyes give away my answer before I have a chance to look away. Mia drops her garment altogether to stare at me in utter fright.
“Kate! That cannot happen! You must tell Mona. Mates are not to be belligerent with us. If he is, she will understand. She will reassign you to—”
“No!” Again, I say the word much more forcefully than I mean to, and it takes me a moment to gather my emotions. Mia continues to gape with wide eyes. Her fists clench the edge of the garment. “I mean—we didn’t argue. He’s—not belligerent at all. He’s—he’s fine.”
I’m nodding erratically in the most convincing way I can muster even as I’m certain she detects a lie in the action. But I don’t need Mia to run to Mona in an attempt to save me when I don’t need saving. I can handle Ian. I can.
I’m suddenly sorry for my silly questions. They’ve done nothing but raise her suspicion.
“All right.” She nods and picks up her needle. “Good.”
We’re quiet after this, and in the silence, I ponder her earlier words. Ian is nothing like the other stock. Whether he’s from the nursery or not, I am sure of this much. And I can’t possibly imagine Mia’s mate and Ian having much in common. The idea is unfathomable.
Blue eyes cloud my vision, and I smile despite myself. I don’t want to smile; I don’t want to think about Ian. I want to be angry still, but the feeling is waning. Before long, the thoughts I’ve barricaded come tumbling in on me like the rocks that often slide down our mountains. And everything about him that I’ve come to admire or fear piles around me on the riverbank.
In spite of Madam Belle’s assumption that such a thing is inconceivable, Ian is human—as human as I. And even if he isn’t always pleasant, he’s one-hundred percent better than a dog, I suppose. Because he’s not from our stock. He’s not. How could he be? He talks to me. Dogs don’t talk. Mia says so herself.
So how can Ian be the same? He can’t. He isn’t.
He talks to me. And he listens.
Of course, I’m unsure as to whether we are on speaking terms at the moment. I have my doubts . . . and I will have to return to the Pit very soon.
I sigh and stab my needle through the thick cloth again. For the millionth time, I wish things back to the way they were before my birthday. Before the Pit. Before Ian. I crave my simple life where the Pit didn’t yet exist for me. Where Ian didn’t exist at all.
It’s futile. Only in my imagination can I pretend my birthday never happened, and I can’t live inside my imagination. Out here, in the real world, I have to acknowledge that I am a breeder—limited as this may be—and I have to accede that Ian does exist.
He exists.
And the fact that he does will be reinforced on a weekly basis whether I want it to or not.
Chapter 10
“But Scripture declares that the whole world is a prisoner of sin . . . .” Galatians 3:22
I’ve just returned to my hogan for the night when Mona comes to see me. We haven’t spoken since the night she escorted me back from the Pit, and the sight of her puts me on edge. The moment she steps through my doorway, I abandon the pile of clothing I’m folding and stand to greet her. And as always, I begin building an invisible wall around me to protect me from whatever she’s come for. I learned at a very young age that when Mona makes a personal visit, it’s rarely for a congenial reason.
“Hello, Kate.”
I meet her cool, green eyes with a nod, and the temperature in the atmosphere seems to drop by a degree. I stiffen to keep from visibly trembling.
“How are you?” She smiles and clasps her hands behind her back. “I hope you are getting on all right in your new role.”
“Yes, thank you.” I study the floor nervously, avoiding her eyes, afraid she might see the truth if she looks hard enough. So far, I’ve managed to deceive her. I lift a silent petition to the Moirai that I can keep up the guise.
“Good.” Mona paces the length of the room, her strong confidence overwhelming even in the growing shadows. “I’m glad to see that you’ve grown accustomed to your new life. I know it’s only been a few days, but the sooner you adjust the better.”
She smiles sweetly, but her words drip from her lips sickeningly.
“Do your part, Kate, and I’m sure Lachesis will measure a long and fruitful lifespan for you, as she’s done for me.”
I catch her eyes, and I take a bold chance, testing her.
“I don’t believe in Fate,” I say quietly.
Mona purses her lips. “And yet here you are, walking it out.”
I stare at her, unmoving. Is this true?
When I was seven, a teacher said something very similar in class one day: “Each of you walks an unseen path etched in the stars. You can take comfort in knowing that no matter what you do, you will never leave this path. It was carved for you—and only you—and you will walk it until the end of your days.”
I heard, but even then—at age seven—everything in me wanted to fight against it. Now, as Mona repeats the concept, I want to fight it still.
“Fate doesn’t need you to believe in it, Kate,” Mona assures. “It just is. And your life is determined already. So believing is optional.”
My heart beats in my throat. “It’s all we’re ever taught, so what other options do we have?”
She shifts, her shoulders tensing with the action. “That, my dear, should be answer enough. The fact that there is no other option should make a believer of you.” She paces the length of the room again before looking at me. “I do believe that you are the first breeder to ever declare that Fate has made a mistake. Even Meg, in all her defiance, never went so far as to defy Fate outright.”
I raise my eyes in shock. She has never mentioned Meg—not since her death. I wait for her to say more, and when she doesn’t, I swallow and say the first thing that comes to me.
“I—I am good at many things, Mona. I can sew. I could have been a seamstress.”
Her green eyes pierce me. “You can mend,” she says decidedly. “There is a difference.”
My eyes fall to the floor. “Still . . . I could have done something else for the Village. Some other worthy duty.”
“Perhaps. But the night of your birth, the stars were aligned in such a way that the Archer had no choice but to call you a breeder.” The tone of her voice softens, and she speaks her next words with such tenderness that I almost believe her. “You know this, Kate. We all know this. The Scorpion did the same for me. What matters now is what you do with the portion of life measured out for you. You don’t want Atropos to cut you off short as she has done Meg, now do you?”
I narrow my eyes at the implication. She’s using Meg to manipulate me. I raise my chin, refusing to fall for her trickery.
“I want a choice,” I say.
Mona tips her head slightly to the side and clasps her strong hands together. “You have a choice. Follow your fate, or defy it. But I would be very careful if you choose the latter.”
Her eyes flash with a warning, and I get one message from them: If I disobey, it will be her duty to correct me, and it won’t be gentle. Mona is never gentle, although she does attempt to make me believe so from time to time. I manage to keep my eyes steady until she turns away.
“I received word from the Pit today. One of the jailers sent a message.”
; I bite my lip. Oh, no.
Could they know? Have they told Mona something?
“It appears that your mate has been asking for you. No. More like demanding.”
I raise my eyes, stunned.
“In fact, they say he’s been yelling your name for the last twenty-four hours. He’s hoarse now.” She laughs. “And for that, they are grateful.”
I don’t know how to react, so I laugh, too—nervously.
“Is that common for a mate?” I ask.
“No. It’s not. I don’t believe it’s ever happened before. So you can imagine how this makes your situation very unique.”
As if I don’t already know this. Mona studies me for a moment, then reaches out to lay the back of her hand against my cheek. I flinch at her touch. These hands rarely reach out in kindness.
“I’m sure your mate has told you some story about where he’s from, has he not?” Her hand moves to adjust a strand of my hair.
Astonished, I nod. She peers straight into my eyes.
“Every bit of it is true.”
Mona lets her hand fall to her side. My mouth drops open slightly at her confession. I never expected her to bring up this subject first. If anything, I expected her to deny it when I finally approached her about Ian and Eden and all the unbelievable things he’s shared with me. And I would have gone to her at some point—once my curiosity won over my fear. But she’s saved me the trouble. She openly admits it. It’s incredible!
“Why are you telling me this?” I inquire carefully.
Mona sighs, a heavy sound loaded with regret. But she continues all the same. “You will find out eventually the longer you are with him, and he isn’t going anywhere.” She reads my expression carefully and smiles. “Ah. But I see you’ve already noticed. He’s clearly not your average stock, and you are a smart girl.” She tosses her eyes my way. “I hope this hasn’t hindered your performance.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as a blush rises over me. She only clucks her tongue and turns away. “If things are difficult in the beginning, they will work themselves out. I’ve seen it before.”
“What?” I raise my head. She waves an indifferent hand.
“Don’t concern yourself with my words, Kate. But I trust that you won’t spread this around. Where Ian comes from is not the women’s business. After all, I do have a village to protect.”
“By lying to them?” I shake my head and take a step toward her. “How is that protection?”
Mona’s eyes turn hard. “You’d be surprised, Kate. The Village is safer because they know nothing.”
“Why did you do it, Mona? Why did you take Ian? He has a home. A family.”
She turns on me sharply, her face inches from mine.
“I told you why!” Her voice trembles. The fierceness in her causes me to retreat slightly, and I’m whisked back to a few days earlier when I’d seen this same ferocity in her. I raise a hand to the still fading bruise along my jaw line. Her eyes follow, settling there.
“You deserve better than what we can offer from the stock,” she says quietly. Her eyes shift to meet mine. “The Moirai will it.”
I’m silent, confused by her strangeness. I detect something desperate in her—a deep longing on the brink of reaching its goal—a goal to which I fear I am intricately tied. I feel it in her words, in the will of the Moirai, and as much as I want to detach myself from it, I can’t. It embeds itself into my core and sits there, agreeing with all she’s said against my will. So I simply nod.
“I won’t say anything,” I say. “No one would believe me anyway.”
Mona relaxes, the muscles in her shoulders easing. “That’s my girl.”
She moves toward the door, and I think she’s finally going to leave, but she only peers out, scanning the other hogans as if to ensure nobody has been listening. All is quiet, and only a few lights still shimmer throughout the Village.
“Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that your mate is somewhat . . . unusual.” Her words are low and in control again. “His ways are not like ours. But, I felt he was the perfect choice for you. I watched him for several weeks before making my decision. One of our own dull males would not have done for you.”
“I know you believe this. But why?”
Her eyes grow oddly tender. “Because as I’ve tried to express, you are special, Kate. Only the best can be reserved for you. I know it was rash and a bit unconventional to take him from his own people, and you could not possibly understand. But he was the best.” She hones in on me. “He is the best.”
I still don’t understand. Never has Mona spoken to me as being deserving of the best. And other than the fact that she was kind enough to turn a blind eye at my stealing into the library to read when I was younger, she never has treated me with any kind of favored privilege.
“What makes me so special?” I ask
Mona’s face eases into that tenderness again. “You’ll learn in time.”
I am still. Mona’s kindness unnerves me. It’s peculiar. And being special is not always a positive quality. I dread what it may mean for me.
“It will all be clear one day. For now, you have other concerns. Tomorrow, you will go to your mate, as he has requested.”
I raise my head ready to protest, but Mona places a finger over my lips.
“Shush, Kate. You have a lot of promise as a breeder. He is strongly drawn to you. We could have our best offspring yet come from your efforts—and his enthusiasm.” She moves to the doorway, pauses, faces me one last time. “You have the ability to make the Village prouder than you could ever dream, Kate. I long to see this.” Her expression carries a hint of both anxiety and hope, and after a moment, she sighs softly and reaches for the bamboo, separating it. “Tomorrow. First light.”
And I’m alone again, standing in the middle of my hogan, more confused than ever. My head spins, and I can’t help but believe that Mona has handed me a treasure chest of information but failed to give me the key. I rub my temples, trying to sort her jumbled mess of words.
And Ian? What does he possibly want with me that he has to scream my name for a whole day? He as much as told me he never wanted to see me again.
Suddenly, a more terrible thought invades me, and I stop rubbing, the horror of it washing over me like melting wax.
What if he’s changed his mind about breeding?
My breathing turns to panicked gasps. I stumble to the mat.
I won’t. No matter what he says, I will never become a breeder.
I realize, suddenly, that I’m drawing ridiculous conclusions in my panic, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. What am I thinking? I don’t know what Ian wants, but I’m more than certain he is not interested in conforming to me or to the Village. Of course he isn’t. He said so.
Yet even after reasoning with myself, I sleep restlessly with visions of Ian smiling seductively and reaching out to me with clutching hands and a bare chest. And no matter how hard I try, my mind refuses to turn off, and when the first tinges of light creep into my hogan and reach out with greedy, grasping fingers, I see no point in waiting any longer. I groan softly and roll to a sitting position.
I can’t defy Mona without collecting a few bruises. To the Pit I must go.
>--->
Ian is sound asleep when the jailer lets me into his cell, but to my dismay, he bolts upright the minute she slams the wooden gate. I curse her under my breath. Now, I have no time to prepare myself for facing him.
All the way to the Pit, I tried. I ran every possible scenario through my mind that might mimic what would happen here today. Perhaps, he’s ready to talk, ask questions, be reasonable. Perhaps he’s merely lonely, or he’s come to the conclusion that he owes me an apology. He said some pretty harsh words, after all.
I scratched this scenario moments after I formed it. It’s absurd to think he owes me anything after what Mona has done to him. His anger is justified—even toward me to a degree.
He squints at me through groggy eyes. It’
s obvious he doesn’t immediately recognize me, and despite myself, I find this a bit comical. Who else would be coming to see him?
He spends several minutes rubbing his eyes, running his fingers through his hair, wiping his sweaty, dirty hands down the front of his extremely soiled shirt. My stomach lurches. He looks atrocious—and he smells even worse.
I stalk toward the gate, where the jailer is still watching us, with no intention of leaving, surprisingly. Has she been ordered to keep watch? It makes me angry, and I spit my words at her.
“My mate needs a bath. Bring a wash basin immediately.”
“What, girl? You are way out of line. The stock get washed down once a month as required. I’m not doing you any special favors.” She storms off. I fume.
“Jailer!”
When she doesn’t respond, I slam my palms against the gate.
“Jailer!”
Over my shoulder, I catch Ian watching me, his hair matted and greased against his forehead. The blond peach fuzz on his chin has nearly turned into a full beard, thin though it may be. Angrily, I slam my hand against the gate once more. Maybe it isn’t part of the normal routine, but one way or the other, Ian is getting his bath. Today!
“I want some bathwater!”
Ian gapes at me when I face him. The shadows prevent me from seeing him clearly, but I feel no animosity from him. This, at least, is one less worry.
“Man, I could use a toothbrush,” he mumbles.
I squint, confused. “A what?”
“A toothbrush. You know, something that cleans your teeth. But I’m sure you don’t have anything like that on you, right?”
“Oh.”
I reach inside the pouch purse I fastened over my shoulder before I left the hogan and pull out the last of my mint leaves. I hold them out.
“Here.”
Ian takes them. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Clean your teeth.”
When he still looks puzzled, I take one from him.
“It’s mint leaf. You chew it.” I pop it into my mouth.