The Book of M

“You actually obey Ahmadi’s orders this time.” Imanuel crossed his arms. “Don’t follow me.”

That caught him off guard. Ory figured Imanuel expected Ory to sneak off after him as soon as he left for the Red King’s territory—that wasn’t a surprise. But what did surprise him was that even if he could make it away without attracting the other soldiers’ attention, Imanuel still didn’t want him to do it. “What’s just one person to cover you?” Ory asked. “It’ll make no difference to the preparations here, but you won’t be alone there.”

“You don’t have to understand. You just have to agree.” His face had the same terror in it as the first day Ory had volunteered to follow Malik and Ahmadi into his first Red trade.

“Imanuel.” Ory took a step toward him, and Imanuel visibly flinched. Was it fear of losing him too, after he’d lost Paul? Ory wondered. What had the Red King done to him and his soldiers? What had he done that they weren’t doing right back? “Imanuel. I’m not your soldier. I’m your friend.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Imanuel said. “If you want help finding Max, you have to agree: you report to Ahmadi, you follow her orders, or you don’t get your two scouts at the end. That’s my condition.”

Ory stared at him for a long time. “Agreed,” he finally said.

AFTER IMANUEL LEFT TO PREPARE HIS MEDICAL EQUIPMENT, Ory went to the barracks room to retrieve his armor. The rest of the soldiers were already in the main hall, assembled in front of Malik.

“Be back here in five minutes,” Ahmadi said to Ory as she saw him pass. He saluted back as he ran.

In the barracks, he double-checked he still had everything he’d brought, in case he didn’t come back once he’d received his two soldiers. He looked at Max’s photo hidden in the flap of his wallet again. Below, he heard a chorus of cheers echo. He drew the picture closer, to make out every detail in the dim light.

He wished that she had been there in the Iowa with him. She would be thinking about it all: finding Imanuel again, Washington, D.C., the Red King. Imanuel’s mission to barter a safe birth for the last memory of his husband, locked inside a paper cover. Ory knew what she’d ask him as soon as they were alone and could talk. It was the same thing he’d ask her. “Do you think the baby will be born without a shadow?”





TODAY WAS SO HOT, ORY. THE SUN SHONE DOWN ON US FROM a cloudless sky, relentless. Every surface inside the RV gleamed, and then stung if I set my bare elbow on it by accident.

“Just for a little bit,” Ysabelle said to us when she couldn’t take the temperature anymore.

I glanced at Ursula warily. She made a face that reminded me of the one you make when you’re nervous or frustrated—I could tell she didn’t want to stop either. “We’re making good time,” I replied.

“We won’t make any time if the engine overheats,” Victor added. His face was tightly drawn. I saw that Ursula also noticed before her gaze snapped back to the road.

“Don’t remember how to fix it anymore if that happens?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Victor admitted.

“Okay, short break,” Ursula announced. “Two hours.”

Ahead, there was a small dirt road off the main highway. We cruised down the shoulder, sighing with relief as our RV slipped under the cover of trees for the first time all day. At the bottom, we parked in a small clearing.

“I’ll take first watch,” I offered. Ursula nodded gratefully and went with Victor to open the hood, to help with cooling the engine. Steam engulfed them as she locked it upright.

“Wes,” Intisaar called as he began to drift away, and shrugged her shoulders at me to mean, I’ll be right back. They both disappeared around a tree.

I waited, but they didn’t reappear. “Ursula,” I warned. Her velvety head popped out from behind the hood. It was starting to feather slightly as it grew out. Then we heard Intisaar shouting.

“Inti!” Dhuuxo cried. We all sprinted for the trees, and then saw what it was that had made her yell.

“Look at it!” she cried from farther down the hill. Wes was already running.

Ory, it was a godsend. The dark, clear water, the sun shining off it, the trees surrounding us on all sides. It was our own private lake.

“Race you,” Lucius said, and then took off before Victor could reply.

“So clear,” Ursula murmured beside me, transfixed. “It’s gorgeous.”

They were all streaming past me now, making for the water. For an instant, I felt a niggling worry at the back of my mind. Something about the lake was bad. I couldn’t remember. Victor jumped in and resurfaced laughing. Sun broke across the ripples.

Then the sensation was gone. I smiled and ran downhill to where they were at the shore.



Peng Shepherd's books