Kiran turns against the sun at a yellowing meadow and retraces our tracks the opposite direction. We branch out southeast and then turn back again. We follow trails that lead to nowhere, then backtrack. Should someone follow, they will be led astray over and over.
My stomach grumbles with nerves and hunger throughout the early morning. The dew dampens our faces and chills my skin. I wonder if the twins are cold and if Daphne knows where to find them food. Tam’s so grown up now; he’ll probably take care of Nina himself.
Kiran dismounts when we return to the meadow in the midmorning. We’ve been here four times today taking various paths, but when Kiran crouches beside an outcropping of tracks, it’s not just Dell’s shod imprints he sees, but the semicircle track of a cheap, hired animal, like the fares at the Driver barn.
Trackers have been here since we last were.
The other prints are lost in the harder ground, and though we search, we find no more.
Kiran remounts, his lips drawn in a thin, straight line. Tucked within his belt beneath the shirt, he’s carrying two guns that he stole off the dead Virulent. His bow rests across one thigh. I scan the surrounding area for any sign of movement, an arrow notched in Aran’s bow. Every falling pinecone and chirping bird draws our eyes.
“I say we follow Lorcan,” he whispers as Dell creeps through the woods.
“We can’t. If they’re watching us, we’ll lead them home.”
Kiran shakes his head in frustration.
“What do you propose then?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know.
We don’t rest until the sun is high overhead. The stream where we stop is cool and clear, and I kneel and dip my hands and face into the water to scrub away the dried blood and muck. But it doesn’t wash away the harsh memories. I don’t think anything can do that.
When I rise, Kiran’s staring at me, rubbing the line between his brows with his thumb.
I listen, thinking he’s doing the same, but hear nothing but the birds.
“It’s too quiet.” I roll my tense shoulders.
Kiran is still staring.
It occurs to me that I should thank him. I doubt he’s waiting for it, but I don’t want him to think I’ve taken all his risks for granted. He might be used to sticking his neck out for other Drivers, but I’m not used to anyone doing it for me. But when I try to express my gratitude, the words get stuck in my throat.
“What is it?” His voice cracks a little. These last hours are wearing him thin.
I hesitate, wanting to get back on Dell, but knowing she needs a little more time to rest. Carrying two bodies half the night is taking its toll on her. She’s lathered in sweat, with white salt lines beside her girth.
“Just … Lorcan. I keep thinking about what he did last night.”
I don’t know why I say this, but it makes some of the pressure between us go away.
Kiran gives a curt nod. “Old man took care of things, didn’t he?”
“He protected the other Drivers.”
Kiran steps closer, and now we’re only an arm’s length apart. His eyes are glimmering like the river stones, and the way he’s looking at me is like he’s touching me. Like I can feel his gaze skimming my skin, making me warm.
“I hate to tell you, Aya, but sometimes you have a hard time seeing what’s right in front of you.” A ghost of a smile plays across his lips.
I take a step back.
“If he wanted to be my father, he would have stayed close instead of always running away.”
“Maybe it was too hard to spend every day staring at your ma’s scars.”
My temper rises. “How dare—”
“Because,” he pushes on, “because he knew he’d been the one to do it.”
He lifts his hand and very gently trails an X across my right cheek, exactly the way he had the night I’d asked him to help me break the purity rule. I know then that Kiran wouldn’t have been able to live with my scars either. I bat his hand away, but not as strongly as I intend and my fingers end up curling around his on my cheek.
He moves closer, and just like when he first crossed the stream into the solitary yard, I’m stuck in place.
I swallow. “He didn’t hold the knife.”
“But he might as well have. Don’t you see how hard it was? He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t laugh with her. He couldn’t tell her he cared about her.”
“Well, words aren’t everything.”
And before I can draw breath again, Kiran’s kissing me. Or at least his mouth has frozen against mine. He seems nearly as surprised by it as I am and smirks briefly before his lips soften and his copper-flecked eyes drift closed.
Gently, his other hand skims over my hair, coming to rest at the base of my neck. A quake starts deep inside of me and by the time it reaches my jaw, I know he can feel it. Something changes in his face then. A look I haven’t seen before, which surprises me because I thought I knew every one of them. His brows lift just slightly, and draw together. His shoulders rise, just a tiny bit. And it’s right then that I figure out the truth: Part of my soul may belong to Kiran, but part of his belongs to me, too.
I don’t want this moment to ever end.
With Kiran, I am the barest version of myself, not protected by my walls, not hidden behind the Garden’s makeup and dresses. I am fierce and pretty and my value is not recorded by some bodybook or measured by stars on an auction block. I’m not so scared, not so alone, and because being here with him feels so right, I know I can’t trust it. We’re in danger, and when Kiran kisses me it weakens my shield. I can’t defend myself from Trackers without that shield. I can’t protect the twins. I can’t let my guard down. Not now, maybe not ever.
I push him away, but it’s hard because the muscles in my arms don’t seem to work anymore. He blinks and opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Since I found out he can talk, this is the first time I’ve seen him speechless.
And suddenly, like a furious punch, I remember Kyna. Maybe Driver men are just like other men in the city; they think they can take their pick of whatever girl they want. Well I’m not built that way. I’m loyal, and if someone wants to kiss on me, they better be loyal too.
A crackling in the brush behind me steals our attention. Instantly, our arrows are loaded and our bows are at eye level. Kiran still has the guns, but he doesn’t reach for them. I wonder if he even knows how to use one.
Dell lifts her head, ears pinned flat against her neck, and Kiran places a steadying hand on her nose. She grinds the bit anxiously. Her mouth is edged with foam and sweat.
Keeping low, I follow the sound, softly placing each step so I make as little noise as possible. Ten paces away, I hear murmuring. Ten paces more and I see them.
In a small sapling grove are four men with horses. One is crouching on the ground, pressing his fingertips into what I’m sure are Dell’s prints.
Three of them, including the man on foot, are Trackers. I can see the flashlights on their hip belts and the nets tied to the backs of their saddles.
The fourth is Mr. Greer.
He’s wearing riding breeches and a silk shirt that shimmers even when the wind is calm. Dark hair hangs in crisp points around his eyes. His face is covered by a black scarf, but the pins holding it in place have been dislodged, and a hint of that jagged, raised scar on the top of his cheek sticks out.
“If she’s masquerading as a Driver like he said, they’ll kill her. Not in the city, mind you, but out here they would. They don’t take well to folks interfering with their kind,” says one of the mounted Trackers.
I’m frozen, holding my breath. I wish I’d never met Amir Ryker in that candy shop at the auction. I wish he didn’t exist. Mr. Greer too, and the mayor, and all these Trackers. If I’m glad for nothing else in my life, it’s that we didn’t follow Lorcan home right away.
“It would be a waste if they disposed of her.” Greer’s voice is rougher than before, like sand blowing against metal.
“Right, beca
use then she can’t hang,” another Tracker laughs. He spits on the ground and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
“If she’s alive, she won’t hang,” assures Mr. Greer. “We paid a considerable sum for her.”
“Waste to give her to a boy, then,” says the Tracker on the ground. “Should save her for a man.” He rises and puffs out his chest. The others laugh, Mr. Greer along with them.
Greer adjusts his scarf. “She’ll pay her dues, not to worry.”
The Tracker, now strutting back to his horse, stops short. “I’d think tangling with the mayor’s favorite girl would have made an impression. You’ve still got one pretty cheek, Greer. Don’t lose the other one.”
Mr. Greer shoots him in the chest, with a gun I didn’t even see in his hand.
A cry bursts from my throat as I topple backwards. The three remaining faces turn my way.
There’s no hiding now. I get up and I run.
* * *
KIRAN DOESN’T WASTE TIME asking questions. The moment he sees me sprinting his way he swings atop Dell and swoops down to grasp my upper arm. She’s already running by the time I’m all the way on her back.
I hang on as tightly as I can, arms latched around Kiran’s lean waist, feeling the sweat that dampens his shirt on my cheek.
Something crashes in the bushes behind us, big enough to be a horse and rider. Whether or not it’s Mr. Greer, I don’t know. I don’t look back. Not this time.
Kiran aims Dell through the woods and we stay low, avoiding the branches that threaten to scoop us right off her back. To our right is a crowded cropping of squat, green brush, and Dell gallops straight for it. I think she’s about to turn, so I brace to slide, but she jumps and lands in a pool of stagnant water.
The water splashes our legs, soaking my boots. Dell makes her way out, her strong neck heaving. When we’re free, Kiran whispers something in her ear and we’re off again. Flying. He rides like she’s a part of him, an extension of his legs. And I bump along the back with the rest of the gear.
We keep going until there isn’t a single human sound for miles, and even when we pull up, we’re careful to keep our weapons ready.
“Greer,” I heave between breaths. “The mayor’s brother. Three…” I shake my head, ridding the murder from my mind. “No, two … more Trackers. I heard them talking. They’re not going to stop until they find me.”
Now that we’re stopped, the words that had been exchanged between Mr. Greer and his men slam into me. I think of Daphne, forced to lay down with a buyer in a private room. Salma’s words echo in my head: “We’re just women.”
If I’m caught, it’s the end of me.
“They’re not going to find us,” Kiran says, but there’s worry in his voice.
“You have to go,” I say. “They’ll take me alive. But they’ll kill you, Kiran.”
I can’t believe I’m saying this. I don’t want Kiran to leave. I need him and he needs me. But I can’t have his death on my conscience. I can’t dig another hole in the ground with nothing but a rock in my hand, and lay him inside as we did Brax. I refuse.
Dell’s spinning in a tight circle, ready to run again. Kiran calms her with a soothing hum.
“We’ll go back towards the city. They won’t think we’d do that,” he says. It’s desperate. We both know it, but Kiran has a point. The closer to the city we go, the farther we lead them away from Lorcan, Daphne, and the twins.
“You head towards the city,” I say. “I’ll keep going on foot. They’re not looking for us to be together anyway. They said a real Driver would probably kill me out here for masquerading as one of them.”
A grimace tightens his mouth. “They’re right.”
We both grow quiet, thinking of Aran, his lifeless body stuffed beneath the bushes not far from here.
I try to dismount, but Kiran grabs my arm. I succeed in swinging my leg back over Dell’s haunches, but somehow he goes over the horse’s neck and hits the ground before me. He’s attempting to wrestle me back into the saddle and I’m struggling to get away from him, but the harder I breathe, the more I can smell the leather and sweat and wood smoke on his skin.
“Let go!” I ram my foot down on his in frustration and he grunts in pain.
“Don’t be crazy,” he says. “There’s another way.”
I twist out of his arms at the same time as he clamps down, which results in his elbow knocking me hard in the chin. He lets go then, and I topple onto my backside.
“Yeah.” I move my jaw from side to side. “I guess you could always kill me!”
He turns away, head down, and kicks a rock into a tree with a dull thunk.
“You … could kill me,” I repeat slowly.
He spins back. “What?”
“You can kill me!” I push myself back up, and though now he seems to be purposefully staying back, I close the space between us and grab his biceps. “I know what to do!”
“You’re kidding, right?” His chin lowers until he can glare right into my eyes.
I shake my head, trying to work out the details. It’s perfect. Well, perfect enough. Either way, it’s all I’ve got left.
“I’m not gonna kill you,” he says between his teeth.
“Shoot me.”
“You’re not getting it.”
“With an arrow,” I roll on. “That way they’ll know it was a Driver that did it. A Driver that saw me dressing up and pretending to be your kind.”
“Aya, you are my kind!”
“Just listen!” My voice smacks off the trees. The volume makes him wince, and his eyes dart around the woods.
Before he can say anything, I continue.
“I’ll be no use to them dead. They don’t want to bring me back just to hang me, they want to bring me back to own me. They’ll leave my body out here to rot, just like the others.”
“They’re not idiots. They’ll know if you’re faking.”
“They might not.” I take a deep breath. The prospect of this plan is making me a little lightheaded. “When you were sick, I gave you bloodroot tea. It knocked you out, but not just that, it slowed your heart.”
He releases my arms, a worried look on his face.
“What?” I say.
“Kyna told me she thought I was dead. My heart wasn’t beating.”
My heart twitches at the name. “It was beating. Just very, very slowly. You would have woken out of it after a while, but the medicine she gave you seemed to speed up the healing.”
“I’ve … I’ve got that medicine,” he says. “Kyna gave me too much of hers, so I was going to replace it. She needs it. For her legs.”
I remember the green bottle Kiran stole from the pharmacy, wrapped up inside his saddlebag.
“You could give me some,” I say.
His hands fist in his hair. “It doesn’t matter if I could or I couldn’t because your plan won’t work. We’re going to keep moving. We’ll hide you, and this whole thing will blow over.”
“It won’t. Not until they find me,” I say.
He’s digging his heel into the ground, not even realizing—or caring—that he’s leaving a new mark for the Trackers.
“So you’re going to make some kind of tea and then lay on the ground and hope they think you’re dead. By what, poison?”
“You’re going to shoot me. With an arrow.”
“Forget it. Get on the horse. We’re going.” I can practically hear his jaw grinding.
“Do it,” I say. “Or I’m going to do it myself.” Before he can stop me, I snatch an arrow from the quiver tethered to the back of his saddle. The point is sharp enough to break skin, but though my voice is fierce, I’m not sure I can actually do it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough or brave enough to jam it in far enough.
“The bloodroot numbs the pain anyway,” I add, hoping I sound convincing. Hoping he doesn’t see right through me.
“Aya, don’t be ridiculous. You’ll die.”
“The bloodroot slows my heart. It’ll slow
the bleeding. You’ll hit me in the shoulder, here.” I mark the spot with my hand, hoping Kiran’s got good aim. “Far enough away from my heart, right in the muscle, and make sure they’re close enough to find me quickly. Then when they leave, you’ll come back and wait for me to wake up.”
He’s considering it. I can see the plan working through his mind.
“Please,” I beg. “They won’t stop until they find me. And if I keep hiding, they’ll keep looking. I’ll never be able to see the twins again.”
He’s shaking his head. But his words don’t match the gesture.
“Fine,” he says. “Make the tea. I’ll start a fire. They’ll see the smoke. We’ll find some way to injure you.…” he hesitates. “And then when you wake up this’ll be done.”
“Yes,” I say. But the fear has already set in. By the end of today I’ll either be free or dead.
* * *
WE WORK FAST. KIRAN builds a small fire beside a nearby brook—not enough to bring the Trackers this way yet, but enough to heat a tin cup of water from his pack. I take the remaining stalks of dried bloodroot from my solitary-yard plastic bottle and grind them to a powder between two rocks. When the water is steaming, I sift the contents in.
Kiran’s taken the arrow and tucked it in his belt. He’s agreed to shoot me himself, though he hardly seems thrilled at the opportunity. I don’t blame him. I’m not looking forward to it either.
The unspoken truth lies between us. If Kiran’s aim is off, the arrow could pierce something vital and kill me on the spot. The Trackers could do any number of things to my body to assure I’m dead. And even if everything goes as planned and they do leave me, I might never wake up again.
“Kiran.” I cough. My throat’s so tight it’s hard to talk. “If it’s not too much trouble, maybe you can check in on Daphne and the twins from time to time.”
He doesn’t look up.
“You and Daphne and the twins,” he grumbles. “You’ll be there with them.”
Dell lifts her head, snorting the air. They’re getting close. We don’t have much time.
“Please say yes,” I say.
He rubs a hand down his face. And then he gives a nod, and my heart breaks a little.
The Glass Arrow Page 29