I keep my eyes trained on him. He’s staring up now at the starless sky, and for some reason I wonder if he’s ever seen the moon away from these city lights, from the mountains.
“I knew a Driver once,” I say, surprising even myself that I have spoken. He turns towards me at the sound of my voice.
“You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”
He continues to stare at me. Brax has more language than he does. It seems odd. He must deal with city people. Maybe there’s something wrong with him. Or maybe he’s new here and hasn’t learned much yet.
“Driver,” I say again.
He nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“Horse.”
He points to the barn. All right, he’s got at least a couple words under his belt, but just in case …
“You’re uglier than a rotting deer carcass. You probably grow another head at the full moon, don’t you?” I test. He tilts his head to the side, brows lifted, as though I’ve just told him a very interesting story. He’s bolder than most Drivers in the city. None are brave enough to look an Unpromised girl in the face.
“Anyone who touches the stream dies,” I continue. “Poison. They only live for about three hours unless they get the antidote from a city doctor.” This of course isn’t true. If it were, I’d be dead from all the times I’ve stuck my foot in the pond just to feel a little bit of home.
Still nothing.
He’s trying to do exactly what I do with the Watcher: get me used to him hanging around so that I never see the attack coming.
“How do you talk to your people?” I ask. The Drivers I saw in the city the last time I was there for the auction kept to themselves. I never saw them communicate with anyone. Daphne said that’s because they’ve got brains the size of sparrow eggs. I know better, though. The Driver I knew in the mountains may not have spoken a word, but he seemed to understand us just fine.
He looks back up at the sky, and I’m reminded again of the moon and my home. I don’t like him for bringing those things up, even if he hasn’t said them out loud.
I groan, frustrated. “If you’re going to try to kill me you should just get on with it, so that I don’t have to wait to kill you back.”
He’s got me rattled. I never talk this much. But he’s just sitting there acting plain-as-day normal, and I can’t seem to stop.
“You should know that I’m not like any other girl you’ve ever met. I’ve killed animals twice your size in the mountains. And they’ve had teeth and claws, and … I’m not afraid of you,” I finish.
He crosses one straightened leg over the other and lays back on the grass.
“Hey!” I say sharply. He rolls his head lazily to the side to look over at me. As intimidating as I possibly can, I stretch the chain across my neck and gag, showing him I could choke him dead if I wanted. “I am not afraid of you,” I repeat slowly.
He only cocks his eyebrow and then looks back up at the sky.
My face begins to feel very hot, despite the cooling temperatures. This crazy Driver boy is making me feel like an idiot.
The time passes slowly. I’ve remained wide awake, and he hasn’t moved. Brax, on the other hand, has sprawled out on the grass and fallen asleep with his tongue lolling out.
My legs are cramped, and out of exhaustion, I finally sit down. My toes slide under Brax’s body for warmth, and I wrap the long slinky skirt around my ankles.
“There’s a Driver I know named Lorcan,” I say almost in a whisper, breaking our silence. “Well, knew. Before they brought me here.”
The second the words leave my lips, the Driver turns his head, and I pop back up to my feet. Then I relax. He’s recognized the word Driver again.
Warily, I sit back down.
I can picture Lorcan as clearly as if he is standing right in front of me. He’s a wiry man with long silver hair and a pointy nose. Not a handsome face, but a peaceful one. Eyes that beckon trust like a moth to the flame. His skin is the color of oiled leather, but for the thin white scar running from his chin down to the notch in his collarbone. My ma told me once that a Watcher did that to him, and if Mother Hawk had not loved Lorcan, he surely would have died.
I clear my throat. “We called him Silent Lorcan because he never talked. I didn’t realize until I got here that none of you can. He bartered with me when I lived in the mountains. Not with Salma or Metea or even Bian. Just me. He brought us clothes or wheat or yeast in exchange for the jewelry I made. He sold it at Trader’s Day—the market they hold in the city every other week.” I glance at the Driver’s calloused hands, thinking how my own used to look like that. “One time, when I was little, he brought me back a blueberry pie.”
The Driver is still watching me curiously, with no sign to indicate that he’s understood a bit of what I’ve said. For some strange reason, I continue.
“He had a yellow horse with white socks and a star between her eyes. She was crankier than Salma in the morning and liked to bite. I tried to ride her.” I grin, the memory coming back to me in vivid colors. “Bian helped me up on her back while Lorcan was down by the river. I didn’t last long—I ended up on the ground with a broken arm. Lorcan was furious when he found us.”
Furious, and something else as well. I’d thought Lorcan was mad because I hadn’t asked permission to ride his horse, but he seemed angrier that I’d been hurt doing it. The way my mother would get angry when I disappeared in the woods for too long.
My ma had died before his next visit. After Lorcan found out, he never came again. That’s when I realized Drivers weren’t to be trusted.
For a moment, I fiddle with the scar on my earlobe from the earring I pulled out, then realize I’ve become so consumed with the memory, I’ve completely forgotten the Driver boy is still sitting less than ten paces away. I jolt up, feeling a flood of heat rush through me.
“I know all about your tricks,” I say. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even lift his brows. “You can’t fool me. I know…”
He rises quickly, and I brace myself to attack. But he’s already turned around and is walking back towards the stream and the barn. He has a smooth, confident stride, so contrary to every other skittish Driver I’ve seen in the city. He leaps over the stream without hesitation and doesn’t even glance back before disappearing into the darkened entrance of his quarters.
I remain standing, shocked. He didn’t try to hurt me. He didn’t even come close enough to touch me. He just sat there, letting me ramble on about things he doesn’t understand.
When I’m convinced he’s not coming back, I slide back down to the ground and lay my head on Brax’s shoulder. But it takes me a long time to go to sleep. I’m thinking about the Driver and his golden hair. About how much I miss home.
And about how long it has been since I’ve talked that much to anyone.