He chuckles. “You have a sharp tongue. I wouldn’t mind getting more acquainted with it.…”
“No,” I say firmly. I would rather die than become this man’s property.
“But not until after you pass your inspection,” he finishes. “And we can deliver you to your rightful owner.”
“And who might that be?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He turns his head just slightly to look at the boy playing on the floor.
My mouth drops open. “He’s a child!”
“Quiet, Clover,” he tells me. “I thought you girls were thrilled by such an opportunity. You’ll be brought to our home. You’ll wait out your days being pampered until he’s ready.”
“And when will that be?”
“Four, maybe five years. Unless he wants you before.”
“You would hold me prisoner,” I stammer.
His eyes are smiling again. “Does a prisoner have a bed softer than a cloud to sleep in at night, Clover? Does a prisoner have meat and eggs and wine at her table? Does she have fine clothes and keepers to wait on her? You tell me.”
For one measly moment—no, for half a measly moment—it doesn’t sound so bad. Better than here anyway. And then I’m so ashamed of myself, I turn bright red and stare at the horse toy the boy is now crushing into the floor.
“Don’t worry. If you need practice…” Mr. Greer’s voice is barely a whisper now. It sends a jolt of tremors through my entire body.
“I would never. Not with you,” I spit.
He chuckles. “Such spirit.”
I want to gag. Everything about this is wrong. I wish I could jump out of my skin. Disappear.
“I’m not doing this,” I tell him.
“That’s the wonderful thing about the auction,” says Mr. Greer. “You don’t have a say in the matter.”
He stands, motioning for Amir to follow.
“I want to take her home now,” whines the boy.
“Patience, dear nephew,” he says, motioning the child to the door. Just before he follows, he pauses to whisper in my ear, “Patience for him, but not for the Virulent. I’ll be seeing you soon, Clover.”
And then they are gone, leaving me in my corner of the room.
*
I DON’T REMEMBER LEAVING the parlor. I don’t remember the Watcher searing the metal bracelet on my wrist. I vaguely recall the Governess debating whether or not she should really place me back in solitary, now that I have such a high-profile buyer showing interest. She must have figured she ought to, because the next thing I know, I am shoved out of the glass office door into the solitary yard.
I am still wearing the tight pink dress that covers my arms and reaches down to my ankles. The evening air is crisp, but I hardly feel it. I hardly feel anything. My hair is tucked behind my ears, falling in neatly brushed curls down my back. There is only one beaded earring in my ear.
The sky is fading. It must be close to nighttime. The Watcher has already offered me my dinner allotment, but I didn’t take it. I’ve never been less hungry.
“No!” a girl screams as he’s attaching my bracelet to the chain. She’s been sitting just outside the sliding glass door on her bedroll, but now stands, red hair disheveled. Latched onto her right arm is her containment bracelet; it peeks out from the sleeve of her standard black uniform dress. There is still a flushed blemish on the side of her face, but the swelling is down.
Daphne.
I look at her, but can’t seem to track her eyes. My head is too muddy. I stare down to where both of our leashes connect to the same post.
“Someone chose you?” she says.
I don’t say anything. I can’t believe it either. After everything that I’ve tried. That Kiran’s tried.
Her cheeks pale, like she’s about to be sick. The thought of someone choosing me disgusts her. It shouldn’t get to me, but it does.
“I would have gone last month if stupid Iris didn’t meet with him after me,” she says, an edge in her tone. “If you were picked, I’d be Promised for certain right now!”
“I didn’t want this,” I say.
“Oh, you’d rather stay here, is that it?” Her green eyes look like they might pop out of their sockets.
“No. I want to go back—”
“—to the mountains. I know.” She throws herself dramatically back onto her cot. “Such a waste, you are.”
“I … I am not,” I counter, wishing I had something smart to come back with. She only glares at me, and behind the anger I can see the misery. I’m reminded of Salma, fighting with my ma about being brought up into the mountains against her will. It was obviously the safest place for her, but Salma didn’t see it that way. And now Daphne doesn’t get it either. All she sees is what she knows. The tiny box of a world. A world that has let her down.
“Who is he, anyway? Some plastics worker, probably. Or, no, a maintenance man.” She grumbles through several more undesirable positions before I interrupt her.
“Amir Ryker,” I say.
She lifts her head.
“Ryker. The mayor?”
“His son,” I say.
“But his son…” She smiles. I can see the laugh building inside of her before it finally breaks free. “His son is a boy. A child.”
“I know that.” I look at the edge of the office, knowing that around the corner is the poisoned stream and Brax’s sewer. And the Driver barn.
Because I’m exhausted, I sit on the other side of the cot.
She quiets as she realizes what this means. “You won’t have to be with him, will you?”
“Not for a few years,” I say. “That’s what his keeper says, anyway.” But I think of Mr. Greer’s threats and double over, elbows on my knees, face in my hands.
“A servant brought him? Not his father?”
When I don’t answer right away, Daphne pinches my arm. Her chain makes a clinking noise as it draws across her lap. “You have to tell me everything, Clover. You owe me that much at least.”
“Don’t call me that,” I say. “It’s not my name.”
She groans. “Tell me.”
I exhale. The air reeks of oil and waste. The incinerator’s been used lately, probably to burn all the excess from the auction preparations.
“The boy came with a man named Greer. He’s got an X on his face.”
Her eyes widen. “He’s Virulent? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Greer is the mayor’s brother,” she says. “He never leaves their house in the city. I overheard my father once say that the mayor was ashamed of him. I never knew he was marked.”
She taps her fingers together like this is prime gossip and waits for me to say more, but I have nothing else to add.
“What is wrong with you?” she asks. “If your paperwork goes through, you’ll have the best placement in the city. You’ll get whatever you want and you won’t even have to share anyone’s bed.”
I don’t tell her Mr. Greer’s plans.
“For now,” I say. “If I’m lucky.”
We’re both looking out now, in opposite directions. Her, towards the Garden. Me, towards the city gates.
“You’re the luckiest person I know,” she says quietly. “You’re so blunt you can’t even see it. Good thing they’ve got you chained in, otherwise you might pull the same stunt as that other girl.”
I can still see Straw Hair stuck to the fence, her dead body dancing, her yellow hair catching fire. The smell, it’s still right there in the back of my throat.
And even now I wonder if she was luckier than all of us.
I feel a growl inside of me, but it doesn’t have the strength to rise up my throat. I can’t stand being near Daphne any longer, so I walk away. Back around the side of the office, behind my sheltering plaster wall. The chain drags behind me, catching on the rocks and grass and weighing down my arm. I stumble as close as I can to the poisoned water and fall to my knees. But I still can’t pray.
Dark thoughts whisper to me. They say I will never go home. Tam and Nina are dead. Salma has abandoned them. I will be sold and bred and sold and bred until I don’t remember that my name is Aya, and I came from the mountains.