CHAPTER 6
“STOP THAT,” I SAY.
My heart’s pounding in my ears, harder than it did with the Watcher here.
His fingers brush over my eyebrow and a spark of pain lights me up. When he pulls away there’s blood on the side of his hand.
It brings me back from wherever I went, and I punch him, hard as I can, in the gut.
All the air empties from his chest in one hard grunt; it’s the first sound I’ve ever heard him make. As he staggers back, I scramble for the ground and pick up a sharp, fist-sized rock, and the jagged knife handle I’ve left just under the surface of the dirt against the plaster wall. He makes no attempt to stop me. His hands are resting on his thighs and he’s bent over, still trying to catch his breath.
“You don’t touch me,” I say, my voice wobbly. “Nobody touches me without my say-so, got it?”
I’ve knocked the wind out of him. It’s now that I’ve got my best advantage. But I don’t attack. Just like I didn’t run when he’d come striding across the yard.
“I said, you got it?” I nearly shout. I want him to nod, leave, anything to show he understands.
He glances up at the sound of my voice, a grimace pulling at his mouth.
“You ruined it,” I say quietly. “I was this close to that key. I was almost out of here, and you ruined it.”
His head tilts to the side.
“What do you want from me?” My fists are shaking now. My wrists are warm from where he grasped them and my cheek is still tingling from his touch.
It doesn’t make sense. I didn’t ask for his kindness, if that’s what this is. And if he thinks he’s going to try to make me break the purity rule he’s got another thing coming.
My ma taught me one thing from the beginning: My body is mine. My own. No one else’s. Just because someone thinks they have rights to it, doesn’t make it true. I thought I understood that before, but here, in this place, it’s become more clear than ever how right she was. My flesh and blood—it’s the only thing I own, and I’ll defend it until I can’t fight anymore.
After a minute the boy stands upright and swallows a deep breath. He takes a step towards me, now just an arm’s length away. I grip the knife. He points a finger at me, then he points at the Watcher’s office. And then he shakes his head and slices both hands through the air as if to say no.
“What?” I say, trying to figure out what he’s getting at. “You think I started it?”
He completes the same series of gestures, this time bigger and faster.
“Well what am I supposed to do?” I ask, throwing my hands up. I’ve forgotten about the weapons I’m holding. “I can’t stay here forever. I’ve got to do something.”
He leans closer, but I’m no longer afraid of what he’ll do. Maybe that’s unwise of me, but I don’t care. I’m too frustrated.
He’s closing in on me slowly, like I’m a fallen bird with a broken wing, and that irritates me even more because if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s fragile. When he’s close enough he raises his hand as though he’s going to touch my face again, but I jerk away. Instead, he points at my cheek, and then he mimics a choke hold on himself, and then he taps his nose, right where I know mine is still bruised from my run-in with Sweetpea. He slices another no through the air with his arms.
It’s as if he’s telling me not to fight anymore.
“It’s the only way,” I explain, not knowing why I feel the need to explain anything to him. “I need the key.” I tap my bracelet, and point to the office, which has become our sign for Watcher. “So I can get out of here. Go home. Home.” I point beyond the city walls to my mountains, and the worry sinks its claws into me again. Are Tam and Nina safe? Is Salma taking care of them?
He repeats the same series of gestures, now adding a point outside the city. I can almost hear a voice, his voice, in a clear, steady tone, telling me, “Your freedom’s not worth your life.” I’m probably making it up—I know he doesn’t use my words—but I can’t help feeling like we’re getting through to each other.
“You know what they’ll do. I’ll be auctioned off, and some rich Magnate will lock me up in his fancy house and…” I can’t say it. “I’ll be his broodmare, you understand that? I’ll be made to make him babies. And if they’re girls, they’ll just be sent to auction like me, and if they’re boys, they’ll be just like him, buying people like property! And me, I’ll just keep coming back here again and again, till I’m all used up and no one wants me, and then I’ll be shunned.” I’m so worked up I’m almost shouting. I drop the rock and jab him hard in the chest with my finger, making the links of the heavy chain weighing down my arm clink together.
It can’t happen. I’ve got Nina and Tam and Salma to look out for. I don’t even know if they’ve gotten food or shelter for the winter. I don’t know if they’ve been captured. I don’t know what’s happened to them.
My chest is so tight I drop the knife handle too and begin to rub a trembling fist across my collar. My skin is damp, and I’m surprised by the tears streaming down my face. Suddenly realizing what I’ve just said, I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and try my hardest to will the heat in my cheeks to cool off. At least the Watcher hasn’t heard; the office door has yet to open.
I’ve never confessed so much to anyone, not even Metea. Thanks be to Mother Hawk that the Driver doesn’t know what I’m saying, and even if he gets some of it, can’t repeat it. Still, I wish I could shove all those words back inside my mouth.
He straightens so that I have to lift my chin to see his face. He pushes his hands down his hips, like he’s trying to stick them in pockets, but his pants don’t have pockets, so instead he weaves his fingers behind his neck. His jaw is twitching, as though he’s chewing on anger.
And his eyes are gleaming. River silt and copper.
It strikes me that they look just like the stones my ma and I would gather to make jewelry. Kiran, we called them, for the copper streaks that reflect the light. We found them in the streambeds, worn smooth by water and sand. Silent Lorcan always traded more for any piece with a kiran stone because they were so rare.
This Driver’s eyes are like kiran, and once again, I’m missing home so badly the pain feels like a living thing inside of me.
He raises his hands and mimes pushing down slowly on something very heavy. I again hear his made-up voice inside my head.
Calm down. Don’t bait him.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap. “You don’t own me. Nobody owns me.”
One of his eyebrows cocks up, and I can’t tell if he’s surprised by my tone or that I seem to be answering his gestures as though we’re really speaking. Fine. Let him think I’m cracked, just like all the others here. I don’t care what he thinks.
The sliding whoosh of the automatic door breaks my concentration, and a moment later I hear the Watcher’s heavy boot crunch into the gravel right outside the office.
My breath catches. He’s back.
At the sound, the Driver sinks an inch or two, bending his knees as though the ground’s shaking. All the long, lean muscles in his arms and chest contract, and I notice for the first time that he’s not just tall, but strong as well.
For some reason, the same shredding fear I feel when I think Brax might be caught rips through me.
“Go!” I hiss, jerking my arm towards the barn. I kick dirt over the knife handle I’ve dropped by my feet.
The Driver gives me one last warning look which I meet with a hard glare, and then darts back over the runoff stream. But he doesn’t make it all the way back to the barn before the Watcher comes around the corner.
The Driver knows he’s too late. He stops, spins, halfway up the bank. He’s facing me. The Watcher’s mouth pulls into a straight line—the most emotion I’ve seen him show yet. And then he reaches below his new messagebox to the silver handle of the wire, strapped on his chest.
The Driver drops to the ground, grabs a handful of pebbles, and throws them at me. I avoid getting hit just barely by jumping sideways. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me with a smug grin. His teeth shine in contrast to his dirty face.
My mouth drops open. Then snaps shut. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make it look like he’s taking the Watcher’s advice not to kill me and has decided just to torture me instead.
I play along. Whimpering, I cower against the office wall. I hide my face, fearing the Watcher will see the truth there.
The Watcher buys it. He releases the handle of the wire and stalks away, back to his chair in his nice cool office. I can hardly believe he’s left until I hear the silence following the close of the automatic door.
I whip my head around towards the Driver and see that the smugness has turned to awe; he’s just as surprised that this worked as I am. And then one of his hands presses against his lips, and I can see in his kiranlike eyes and by his bouncing shoulders that he’s laughing, though he doesn’t make a single sound.
I feel a strange sensation brewing inside me. It tickles my throat and forces my lips into a grin. Before I can stifle it, I giggle. And then I laugh. We are both staring across the poisoned stream laughing at how we’ve managed to outwit the Watcher.
The feeling takes me over. My arms begin to tingle. My legs too, right down to my bare feet. I can’t stop laughing. I have to bite my hand to quiet myself so that the Watcher doesn’t come back to check on me. I haven’t laughed like that since … since before they got Bian.
We both hear a noise coming from the opposite side of the barn. The low rumbling of a city car. Someone’s here to rent a horse. Probably a Merchant. Most of the Magnates are too snooty to use that kind of old-fashioned transportation. They want something classier—a fine horse or a carriage.
Either way, the Driver’s got to go.
He smiles at me once more before turning and jogging into the back door of the barn. He’s got to change before the customer arrives.
When he disappears, I’m hit by a sudden sensation of loss. It’s like all the happiness is sucked from my body.
I remember where I am and why I’m here. And that the only plan I had worth anything is ruined.