by Casey Hays
I don’t answer. I’m so busy trying to decipher how he could have gained so much height and weight since that night under Mona’s tree that I barely hear his question. Muscles are everywhere!
“Well?”
His angry voice snaps me back to attention. I squint up at him.
“What?”
“Down in the Pit—with your mate.” He hisses the word through his teeth. “Did you have fun?”
My shocked expression glues itself to my face. I expected Ian to be upset when he discovered I have a new mate. It’s understandable. I even expected him to be a bit irritated that I spent the entire day in the Pit when I knew that he was here. But this? This I did not expect, and I know what he’s implying before the next words come out of his mouth. I can’t believe it! Does he know me at all?
He moves a step, clenching his fists.
“Have you conformed, Kate? Is that why you won’t leave with me?”
He’s close enough now for me to see his pupils. They’re tiny slits cut into the blue of his irises, intense as ever. I focus on them for a minute, and then my own anger at his implication rises to the surface.
My first thought is to walk away. To leave him to his childish tantrum that I’d seen so often in the Pit. I don’t need him to define me by assumptions, and I refuse to justify myself to him.
I step back, anger shooting from my eyes, but I suddenly stop. I take a moment to examine him, listen to his heavy, uneven breathing, and it dawns on me that what Ian displays is not pure anger. His eyes, blue as ever, are sketched deep with pain, glistening on the verge of tears. The pain needles its way in, overpowering the anger. I don’t remember seeing this in him before, but it reaches into my core, causing me to check myself. Impulsively, I touch his heaving chest, hoping to calm him like I’d done so many times before.
“Ian,” I say quietly. “You think so little of me? After all the time we spent together, this is how you see me?”
He tilts his head slightly, the rage still visible. But his eyes soften, and after a moment, he lets out a long, slow breath. I relax. He covers my hand still pressed against his chest with his own. I step into him.
“I am not a breeder,” I whisper, peering into his eyes. He sighs and closes them.
“I know.” His voice is quiet. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, eyes down. I wait for him to continue.
“I just—I saw you come up out of that Pit, and I knew you had been—” He struggles with his words. “I was jealous.”
Jealous. Now I see it. I reach for his hand.
“You don’t need to be. You are the only one that I’ve ever—”
I stop short. Loved? Is this what I intend to say? I look up at him, and he’s waiting, but I can’t finish the sentence. He only smiles.
“I’m so stupid. I’m really sorry.” He raises my hands to his lips and plants a kiss on them. “I know you, Kate. I should have trusted you.”
Relief floods me, along with a huge wave of confusion. I can’t identify these feelings that are pummeling around inside me when I look at him, when I hear his voice, when he touches me. I don’t want to name them—so fresh in my heart. They scare me.
I know how he feels about me, and it’s become harder to deny with every passing moment that I don’t feel the same. But . . . I can’t give him any sort of hope that I’ll be going with him when he leaves. So instead, I take a fistful of his shirt in each of my hands and change the subject.
“How did you grow so big?”
He smiles. “It’s a long story. But if you agree to come home with me, it will give me plenty of time to tell you.”
I roll my eyes. If nothing else, he is persistent.
It is a lie to say that my heart is not torn between these odd feelings for him and my duty to the Village. One day, I may have the chance to reverse what damage Mona has done, as slim as the chance may be. And every time Mona gives me an unjust order; every time I see John imprisoned in his cell; every time Diana cries herself to sleep at night—it fuels my determination even more. A determination that cannot be eliminated simply because Ian has returned. After all, I will have no chance at all if I desert them. No chance to right things for them . . . for Layla . . . so that her death is not in vain. Leaving? It’s too much to consider.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by a rustling behind us. I suck in a frightened gasp and pull on Ian’s sleeve.
“We need to get into the woods before you’re seen.” I see no one, but that means nothing. Mona and her troop tend to show up when least expected. And the women coming back and forth on the trail don’t need to see a male standing free on the path. Hand in hand, we dart for the trees.
I follow Ian as he cuts back around the Pit and behind the Village. But he doesn’t head toward the woods near the back of my hogan. And after an hour of trudging through the underbrush and receiving more scrapes and scratches than I care to count, I see exactly how Ian plans to live while he waits on me to make up my mind.
In a clearing, several miles behind the Village, he and his friends have set up a campsite. Four triangular structures Ian calls “tents” surround a small, roughly built fire pit. Surrounding the pit are four large packs that hold enough food to last for weeks. I gawk at Ian. He truly intends to stay.
Justin sits on a log near the fire pit skinning a rabbit. He glances up as Ian and I approach.
“Hey dude,” he says, waving the knife in greeting. “Look what Jesse shot today—with your bow.” He winks for emphasis. “Not bad. We’ll eat good tonight, anyway.”
He smiles, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth. His eyes shift toward me, and his smile widens.
“Oh, hey there. We haven’t formally met since you kinda skipped out on us last night. Once again, I’m Justin.”
He chucks the knife blade smoothly between his teeth and holds out a bloodied hand toward me, keeping hold of the rabbit with his other. I sway back a step out of his reach and shake my head. He glances at the blood and pulls the knife from his teeth.
“Oh, sorry. That was gross. Anyway, it’s good to meet you. This lover boy here never stops talking about you.” He raises his hand to block his lips and whispers loud enough for Ian to hear. “He even does it in his sleep.”
Ian scowls playfully. “Very funny.”
“And very true.” Justin tips the knife in a salute.
We sit across from him on another log, and I take a minute to survey my surroundings. Someone sleeps in one of the tents, only his black head of hair visible. I recognize him as Max. He snores lightly. I don’t see Jesse.
Justin expertly peels back the rabbit’s fur to reveal the pinkish-white meat beneath. I suddenly realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and my stomach rumbles. It’s certainly close to dinner by now.
“So Ian’s told me about the little set-up you all have going here.” Justin eyes me mischievously. “How does it work exactly? You turn sixteen and you get a partner assigned. Then you get to,” he raises his eyebrows several times. “you know . . . whenever you want? That doesn’t sound so bad to me. In fact, I might want to sign up, depending on how pretty your girls are. If they look as good as you, I’m in.”
He smiles that brilliantly white smile again and winks. I frown.
Ian winces. “Oh, boy.”
“Oh?” I say. “You’re ready to sign up?”
My eyes narrow wrathfully. I lower my voice, glancing at Max’s sleeping head before returning my full attention to Justin.
“So you would enjoy living in a ten by ten foot cell for your entire life until you could no longer breed? It wouldn’t bother you to spend most of your days eating bread and water and waiting for your mate to finally show up on her schedule?”
I stand, my cheeks flushed. He has no idea what he’s unleashed, and I intend to severely educate him on life in the Pit. I raise myself up to tower over this stranger who thinks he knows so much.
“You’d wouldn’t mind bathing only once a month? Oh, yes
. What’s the importance of a bath if the girls are pretty? And the babies? You’d never know how many there were, or whether they were allowed to live at all. And you would never see them. You wouldn’t mind that when you were too old or too worn out to be of use anymore the Council takes you out and disposes of you like you were just a wild animal who didn’t deserve to live? That appeals to you, does it?”
I huff angrily and kick at the dirt. Ian sits still, no hint of expression on his face as my words penetrate him, too. He raises a brow at Justin and remains silent.
Justin’s face glazes over in shock as my words sink in. He holds the knife loosely against his knee, the skinning of the rabbit forgotten for the moment.
“Well, that sounds just awful!” He turns toward Ian. “You were right about her. She’s a firecracker.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head, and resumes his work on the rabbit. His eyes flash up at me again. “So really, though. That’s what it’s like?”
I stare at him a minute, taken aback by the casual way he addressed the subject in the first place. I cautiously lower myself back onto the log next to Ian and nod.
“Yes. That’s how it is. Ian didn’t tell you the rest of the story?”
Justin shrugs. “He might’ve. But it was all clouded over by his feelings for you. And I let him drag me here to get you just so that you could tell him ‘no’.” His eyes shift to Ian. “Maybe we ought to pack up and get out of here tomorrow. The other two are getting restless already. They might start asking questions.”
Ian shakes his head. “You can go back if you want to, but I stay. I’m not leaving without her, even if it takes the rest of my life.”
“We can’t do that, and you know it. Besides, what will we tell your parents if you don’t come back with us? They’d freak.”
Ian shrugs and wraps a protective arm around me. “Tell them what you want. I don’t care. Now that I’m here, I realize something. She’s all that matters.”
I stare at him. Justin chuckles. “Whatever, dude. It’s your life, if you want to give it.”
He skins. A shiver runs through me at the idea that Ian will risk so much because I’m all that matters.
I’m all that matters.
He is not going to leave.
So my only recourse is to make sure Mona doesn’t find them, which means I should not be here. Quickly, I stand.
“I have to go. They will expect me for dinner. Besides, they do bed check every night after we’re asleep. I can’t be missing, or they might suspect something.”
This is a lie, but I need some excuse.
“How do you know they do a bed check if it’s after you’re asleep?” Justin asks. I glower at him. He’s not making a very good impression. I don’t like his questions.
“Because I’m usually awake. I—I don’t sleep so well anymore.”
Ian frowns. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t come easy for me.” I tug on his hand. “Let’s go.”
Justin smiles and waves the fully-skinned rabbit at me.
“Too bad you couldn’t stay for this. I’m a pretty good cook.”
Ian winks and shakes his head, a playfully frightened look on his face indicating that Justin’s cooking is less than tolerable. I smile.
A hundred yards behind my hogan, he stops and pulls me into one of his precious kisses. I savor it and allow him to linger there against my lips a little longer than I should. Resistance is useless, so . . . I simply don’t resist, and all that I am melts into him.
Eventually, he pulls back, and I release a sigh with too much satisfaction. He smiles; I blush and turn away from him and toward my hogan before he can notice my red cheeks.
“Kate,” he whispers, capturing my hand and tugging gently until I face him. He cups both his fists over his heart, one on top of the other, and taps twice. And he vanishes into the trees, leaving me with all sorts of emotions fighting each other just beneath my skin. I cannot determine which one will win.
Happiness floats nearest the surface, and despite the potential danger Ian has placed on both of us since his return, I can’t deny the feeling.
And for the first time, I think I may understand what Meg died for.
If it makes you feel like this—even for a split second—it is worth it.
Chapter 26
“Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love.” Song of Solomon 2:3-4
I’m assigned to dishwashing this week, so immediately after breakfast, I snake my way around the side of the dining hall to the rear where all the cooking and cleaning is conducted. The area is alive with activity. Some of the cooks scrape out the large kettles used for stew, preparing them for the noon meal. Others sit at wooden cutting tables, slicing and cubing duck or rabbit meat. Fish hang beneath a wooden lean-to, gutted and ready for cooking. I scoop up a kettle from several lined against the wall and follow the path to the river to fill it.
I walk in a daydream, and as I return to hang the pot of water on a spit above an already flaming fire-pit, my mind is not on the task. Instead, I’ve returned to last night, and I’m standing on the edge of the woods with Ian and his kisses. They tease my memory in tantalizing circles that call me away from my work, and at times, I find myself staring into nothing as the women bring the dishes and pile them before me.
Debra taps my shoulder.
“Kate? You fall behind on your work. Are you in need of help today?”
Pulled out of my reverie, I focus on her.
“Oh, no. Thank you, I can manage.” I lift a stack and sort bowls from cups, smiling reassuringly. But I scold myself. I must be more careful.
The water in the kettle comes to a boil, and I use thick cloths to lift it by the handle from the fire pit and set it beside a pile of rough, clay bowls. I fill a large washbasin with dishes and pour the water over. It hisses with steam, and moist clouds puff up, wetting my face. I sigh heavily and set the kettle aside.
I want to be done with this task. I want to see Ian. A silly part of me fears that I’ve imagined his return, and when I reach the campsite today, I’ll find nothing. In reality, this would be the better scenario—better for all of us. But my heartbeat pulses faster at the idea all the same. My heart never has played well with my reason. It wants him to be waiting for me under the canopy of trees.
Quickly, I sprinkle rose petals into the basin where they bleed and spread their color and their fragrance through the water. The water is too hot yet for my hands, so I sit back waiting for it to cool.
And before I can help myself, I’m once again thinking of Ian. I smile and fetch a handful of red petals from the gathering basket, raise them to my nose, and breathe, allowing their fragrance to carry me away.
“Kate?”
I open my eyes. Mia, a bundle of clothes in her arms, eyes me curiously. She’s going to the river to do the washing.
“Hi.” I smile up at her.
“Are you all right?”
I crease my brows. “I’m fine. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “You had a strange look.”
“Did I?”
I make an effort to compose my expression. I know what she sees—my utter happiness. I don’t need Mia to know the reason for it. Intentional or not, she brought enough trouble on Ian—and on me—the last time he was here. I don’t believe she would do so again, but still, I choose to keep his arrival to myself. I shrug and answer her indifferently.
“I slept last night, which is rare. I guess it’s noticeable.”
“Perhaps,” she says. She shrugs off her suspicion as, gratefully, only Mia can and replaces her frown with a smile. “I’m off to the river. See you in a while.”
I wave and reach into the basin to test the water. Still hot, but I can’t wait any longer. I want to finish this and get to Ian before Mia comes looking for me and ruins my c
hance. I reach for a cloth and plunge it into the water.
>--->
It takes a little more than an hour, and I can’t get out of the Village quickly enough once the last dish is dried and put away. I’m careful that no one sees me leave as I edge behind my hogan and slip under the cover of the trees.
I traipse through the deep woods at the fastest pace I possibly can without outright running. Branches and brambles reach out with greedy fingers to grab at me on all sides, but I ignore them and press on, hoping I can remember where the tents are. I made a mental marker last night; an old, collapsed tree, splintered and blackened and dead for many years, probably as a result of the Fall. The tents will be just beyond that point.
I walk for an hour before I see the tree, and just as I pass it, the tents come into view. They stand as bright yellows, oranges, and reds against the browns of the tree trunks, and I wonder if it’s dangerous to display such color. If any of the guards who protect our perimeter come this far, they won’t miss them standing out like beacons. I make a mental note to mention this to Ian.
Justin is the only one I see. He sits on the same log as yesterday in the center of all four tents using his knife to carve, not a rabbit, but a fat piece of wood. I stop and watch him for a few seconds, uncertain if I should move any closer. I don’t know Justin, and uneasiness comes over me at the thought of being alone with him. I search the area for Ian, but he’s nowhere in sight.
Another tiny step, a branch cracks beneath my foot, and Justin whips his head in my direction, posing the knife defensively. He smiles when he sees me.
“Oh. It’s you.”
He stabs his knifepoint into the log and stands, still clutching the piece of wood. I swallow and take one more step.
“If you’re looking for Ian, he and the others have gone hunting. They won’t be back for a while.”
“Oh,” I nod, sure that he sees the disappointment cross my face.
“I don’t mind if you wait with me.”
He motions with his free hand to another log. I glance at it, and my eyes connect with his. They are dark and warm, the kind of eyes that instantly make a person feel at ease—something I didn’t notice about him yesterday. I feel safe enough to take my seat on the log he’s offered.