A commotion came from the center of the dance floor and the band went quiet. Betsy Grimsby, my brother’s admirer, seemed to have passed out. Rhys crouched next to her as Beth asked people to step back and give her some air. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was faking to get my brother’s attention. The girls of Quivira seemed old-school like that.
After making sure I was okay, Brennon excused himself to help. It was a relief. With all the attention elsewhere it was the perfect opportunity to find Dane. Before my mother arrived and we left Quivira for good, I wanted an explanation for why he ran away earlier, and why he was so cold to me at the wreathing ceremony. I felt I deserved that much.
I spotted him walking out of the ballroom. I slipped through the crowd, into the hall, down one flight of stairs, where I discovered Spencer Mendoza and Dane talking quietly in the archway of the men’s parlor. I ducked behind the tapestry curtain of the women’s parlor directly across the hall from them.
“The boy has no power,” Spencer said. “But the girl’s a conduit, a direct link to Katia. She’s dangerous.”
“She’s not the vessel and the summer solstice is almost here.” Dane glanced down at his feet. “I don’t see why it matters anymore.”
Spencer seized Dane’s arm. “Who are you to say what matters anymore,” he spat. “Have you forgotten what you are? Your duty?”
“How could I?” Dane pulled away from him, rubbing the inside of his wrist.
Spencer took a deep breath and tugged down the hem of his button-down vest. “Do as I say. And consider yourself warned,” he said before turning and storming back upstairs to the ballroom.
Dane dragged his hands through his dark hair. He turned to head down the next flight of steps, but hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to know what he was thinking. He descended the stairs, and I couldn’t help but follow—almost as if I’d never had a choice.
15
SAVAGE
I SEARCHED FOR DANE, but I’d lost him. Even with the meeting house lit up like a jewel box, it was still incredibly dark outside—the kind of dark that pressed in around me like a lead veil.
I walked to the shore, watching the ripples fade to black. The clouds obscuring the moon sailed past, giving the water an odd veneer, like the film on an old dog’s eye.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” Dane’s voice slipped from the shadows.
The blood seemed to flutter in my veins.
I should’ve been embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I’d already made a complete fool of myself. What was one more twist of the knife?
I stepped across the lawn, toward the sound of his voice, straining to catch a glimpse of his face. But what I saw chilled me. Standing a few feet deep in the corn, he watched me through the heavy stalks, his dark eyes glistening with a focus that unnerved me.
I crossed my arms over my flimsy garment, afraid he could see right through me.
“What was all that about . . . with Spencer Mendoza?”
His jaw tensed. “You and I can’t be seen together. Alone.”
“We’re just talking. Besides”—I stepped forward—“I don’t care about any of that. About me being a Larkin and you being a Mixed or whatever,” I said as I fidgeted with the end of the black silk ribbon.
“I care.” His voice had a menacing edge. “We take tradition and honor very seriously in Quivira.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just . . . when we met . . . and then you left . . . and I saw you again . . . it’s just . . .”
I took another step toward him. As soon as my foot hit the soil at the edge of the corn, a current ripped through my body, flinging me back at least ten feet in the grass.
Stunned, I got back up. He stared at me unflinchingly.
I tried again, but the moment I stepped into the corn I was thrown back with an even greater force.
“What’s happening?” I struggled to get to my feet, feeling more than a little dazed.
“The only way you’ll leave Quivira is if the corn wants you to leave.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about Tanner’s warning. People go into the corn but they don’t come out. Could it be true? I held my ground a few feet away from the edge of the field. I could feel it now—an invisible energy force keeping me there.
“But how are you—”
“I’m a Mixed. I have Coronado’s blood.” He pulled up his left sleeve, showing me the brand on his inner wrist. “All of the Mixed have certain quirks.”
“Beth,” I exhaled, remembering the scar on her inner arm, her strangeness. But her mark looked different from Dane’s. “Can all of the Mixed go into the corn?”
“No.” He looked at me with a pained expression. “And you’re the only person who knows I can. If anyone found out, they’d kill me.”
“Kill you?” I whispered as I glanced back toward the meeting house.
“I need to know I can trust you,” he said as he brushed his hand over the scar tissue on his arm; I had an overwhelming urge to touch it.
“I know how to keep a secret,” I managed to whisper.