A breeze blew in over the corn. The stalks rustled like endless layers of a stiff taffeta dress. I knew the choice had already been made for me, but there was a part of me that still wanted to know how I would’ve felt, who I would’ve picked had the choice been mine.
I stretched out my hands in front of me, my fingertips grazing the chest of the first eligible in line. A flutter of excited whispers swept through the gathering. I walked down the line, skimming my fingers across their chests, counting as I went. Each and every one of them smelled pleasant and harmonious. Earthy, mellow tones. Nothing like the boys I was accustomed to.
Number five smelled especially good, notes of cardamom and freshly oiled saddle leather. Intriguing.
I reached number nine, the one I was supposed to choose. This was the most appetizing yet—oak and honey—a scent that could envelop me like a thick wool blanket on a chilly night.
This was it. The moment had come.
I opened my mouth to say the words when the wind shifted. Something gripped me. My blood seemed to throb in my veins. At first, I thought I was going to fall into another conduit memory, but it was deeper than that. An inexplicable urge swept through me like a fever.
Locked into something nameless, I moved away from the line, weaving through the sea of people. Everything in me seemed to reach toward the scent—my blood, my skin, my bones, my spirit.
I brushed my fingers against a man’s chest—he flinched. Every part of me felt like a frayed wire just waiting for a spark—aching for it.
I whispered to him.
“Wii cuu’at ukuk huka aciksta
Takaarahak karitki hukaawikii’ac kictiirahk
Cuu’at hurii kituu’u’ huka
Paatu a ka’it.”
As soon as the words came out, I clamped my hand over my mouth. Caddo—I had just spoken Caddo fluently.
The crowd erupted into panicked murmurs.
I couldn’t stand not being able to see. I pulled down the sash that covered my eyes.
My heart leapt into my throat. It was him. My junkyard crush. For a moment I forgot about our bitter parting. His hair was pulled back. I could have gotten lost in the lines of his face, but his eyes held none of the warmth from earlier. He was like a stone wall. Impenetrable and cold, as if we’d never met.
Beth rushed to my side. “You can’t choose Dane,” she said as she tried to ease the sash back over my eyes. “He’s ineligible.”
“Dane.” I repeated his name. That was so much better than Goober.
“He’s a Mixed,” she whispered.
“What does that mean, Mixed?”
“Anyone with traces of Coronado’s blood is considered a Mixed,” she whispered as she tried to steer me back to the line. “A Larkin with a Mixed is forbidden.”
“Is that why you ran off earlier?” I asked, searching his face for answers, but he only gritted his teeth.
“She’s ruining the ceremony,” a woman hissed behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the stunned crowd, my eyes settling on a line of very anxious-looking boys.
“You’ve met?” A girl’s voice startled me as she sidled next to Dane. Lauren. She snaked her arm under his, hanging on to his bicep.
“Yeah, I met him today at the junkyard and—”
“She’s a conduit,” Dane interrupted me. “She doesn’t even know what she’s saying. She’s confused.”
The way he said the word conduit felt like an insult, like another word for crazy.
I wanted to argue, but there was something in his eyes, a pleading look that made me hold my tongue. I could see it was important to him that our meeting stayed secret. But why?
“He’s right,” I said, tightening my grip on the wreath. “I am confused.”
A look of relief washed over him, briefly softening his features.
“Poor girl,” Lauren said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You shouldn’t have to go through with this in your condition.”
“Leave her alone,” Dane murmured.
I tore my eyes away from Dane, but when I looked down and saw his hand, all I could think of was his thumb dragging across my hip bone.
A flush swept my cheeks.
And then I realized, it wasn’t just my name . . . or my eyes that made him turn away from me at the junkyard. He belonged to someone else. I felt completely gutted.
“Ash, he’s not meant for you,” Beth whispered as she placed the sash back over my eyes. I let her do it this time. I didn’t want anyone to see how hurt I was. How could someone I’d just met wound me so deeply?
“No harm done,” Beth called out to the crowd in a strained singsong voice as she led me back toward the line of eligibles. “Trust me. Number nine is perfect for you,” she said under her breath. “I’ll lead you right to him.”
Suddenly, I forgot how to move my legs. Beth had to half carry me down the line.
“I didn’t know you spoke Caddo,” she said as an aside.
“Neither did I,” I exhaled. I knew bits and pieces from my mother, but the language had just . . . come to me.
Beth nudged me in the ribs and we came to a stop.
“My body, my soul, I commit to you,” I said in monotone. Even though it was just for show, it felt strange saying the words aloud, like I was betraying myself in some way.