24
I feel my heart bursting from my chest as my eyes struggle to adjust in the gloom. All I can hear is Pietra saying my name as I flail and fight. If she is going to take me to Ignacia and put Colt and my mother’s lives in danger, then I am certainly going to do her some damage along the way. My wrist cannot take my weight but I shunt myself backwards until my back is against a wall. I then lash out with my foot, kicking hard until I feel it connect with something soft.
Pietra groans in pain as I hurl myself towards the direction of the noise, grabbing at her hair and pushing her face into the ground. The sound of her voice is muffled but I think she is saying the words ‘stop’ and ‘please’. I pull her up and slam her into the wall, holding my arm firmly across her chest, pinning her to the surface.
‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss, keeping my voice low as we are close to the bedroom door. I feel the drip of something I assume is blood falling from her head and landing on my arm. My other arm is hanging limply next to me, still hurting from the fall.
‘I heard you,’ she slurs, not sounding entirely with it.
‘Who have you told?’
Pietra’s head slumps forward, so I lift her back up before releasing some of the pressure on her.
‘How many?’ I demand more forcefully.
‘No one.’
‘I could just kill you here and take my chances …’ I try to sound as threatening as I can. I’m not actually sure that I could, but it sounds good.
Pietra whimpers. ‘Really, I haven’t told anyone.’
I release my arm and allow her to slip down the wall. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘I … don’t know. I was curious. I’ve heard something happening by your bed a few times. I’ve checked but you’ve not been there and then I heard you coming back in a few nights ago. I found the door this evening when I was looking for you.’
My breathing is still heavy and I can still only just about make out Pietra’s shape in the dark. ‘Why are you so concerned about what I’m up to?’
‘I … I’m not. Well, not like you think, anyway. I was worried.’
‘About me?’
‘Yes, people keep going missing and I thought maybe someone had come for you in the night.’
I push myself back into a sitting position, massaging my injured wrist. ‘Why would it matter to you if I was?’
Pietra starts coughing but I shush her, saying she’s going to wake people up. That is assuming she doesn’t already have people waiting outside the door for me, of course.
‘I’m not the bad person you think I am.’
She sounds like a child as she speaks and it takes me a moment to realise that, despite everything that has happened to us, we are pretty much still children.
‘What about Bryony?’
Pietra sniffles and stifles another cough. ‘I didn’t mean that to happen. I thought I was helping everyone because she was going to get us all in trouble. I didn’t want everyone to be punished because she was stealing food. You heard what the Minister Prime said – that we would all be held responsible.’
I barely let her finish before jumping in. ‘You did it for yourself – to get yourself in favour with Ignacia and whoever else. You sacrificed Bryony to make yourself look good.’
Pietra is sobbing gently to herself. ‘I really didn’t.’
‘What about the train, then, with poor Wray and Rush. You were picking on him just because he was a Trog.’
‘I know …’
I find it hard to keep my voice down as all the weeks of frustration and fear pour out. ‘Well?’
‘It’s hard to explain. I don’t know where you’re from but with my parents and my friends and everyone … we all come from this area that’s not too bad. Everyone I know is either an Elite or a Member. The Trogs are assigned to work for us; they clean, they follow us around, they do what they’re told.’
‘And you think that’s right?’ My voice echoes around the space and I correct myself, whispering the accusation a second time but quieter.
‘No … well, yes … I don’t know. That’s just how I was brought up – it was all I knew. If your mum or dad …’
‘I don’t have a dad.’
‘I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Look, if your mum spent your whole life telling you that Trogs were beneath you, that they’re not really human and that you can do what you want to them, you would probably believe it, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course not.’
I say it as firmly as I can but the truth is, with the way she has put it, I can almost understand her reasoning. My mother has brought me up to think that there is no problem hanging around with Opie, even though there was every chance he could have ended up as a Trog. Perhaps that wouldn’t have happened if she had spent every day telling me he was beneath me.
‘I can only apologise in that case,’ Pietra says. ‘It’s too late for me to say sorry to Wray now. I didn’t know any better.’
‘There’s still Faith.’
‘I know but she won’t talk to me – not after Bryony.’
‘Do you blame her?’
‘Not really.’
For a moment, neither of us says anything but I can hear her panting, struggling for breath.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, surprising myself.
‘You kicked me in the ribs.’
I still can’t bring myself to say sorry. ‘What about when you said my ribs were horrible?’
‘That was a misunderstanding. I was talking about what they’re doing to us – the food, the fighting, all of it. I remember what you looked like when you arrived and what we’re all like now. I tried to explain but you were gone.’
She sounds genuine but, of all the people I have told myself not to trust, Pietra is pretty much at the top of the list.
‘I heard you talking to Jela,’ she says, shuffling in the dark. ‘Is it true about the flowers and the two weeks in your village every year?’
‘Yes.’
She breathes in deeply, as if smelling the scent of the petals. ‘It sounds wonderful. It’s nice where I live but not like that. It’s in the city, so there are people and clutter and noise. Everything is being rebuilt. It has been going on my whole life.’
I try to stifle a yawn but it gets the better of me and, just for a moment, as she shuffles in the shadows, I fear that Pietra could launch herself at me. Instead, the faint outline I can see of her merely moves sideways a little, trying to get more comfortable.
‘What do you want, Pietra?’ I am feeling tired and struggling to keep the weariness from my voice.
‘I want out.’
‘Out of where?’
‘Here. Everywhere. I want to go home.’
‘Why not ask Ignacia if you can go then?’ I immediately regret my sneer as Pietra sniffles again, then replies in between soft sobs. ‘I just want you to say that if you’re going, you’ll take me with you.’
‘What makes you think I’m going anywhere?’
‘Nothing … I don’t know. I’m not saying you are. I just don’t want to be the next one chosen when the King gets bored again.’
She starts crying, slightly louder, and I’m sure I can hear Jela’s name mixed in with the tears. I shush her harshly, saying she will wake everyone else up if she isn’t careful.
‘If you want people to trust you, you have to earn it,’ I say, repeating word for word something I remember my mother telling me years ago.
‘I know. What do you want me to do?’
Pietra’s offer sounds genuine and I think for a moment before replying. ‘Just go back to your bed, go to sleep and forget we ever had this conversation. Don’t come anywhere near this end of the room after dark, regardless of what you hear. If anyone else is creating a fuss over by my bed, stop them. Otherwise, don’t talk to me. If I need you, I’ll ask.’
I speak as sharply as I can, completely serious. Pietra is no use to me at the moment and I certainly don’t know if I can trust her. Everything I have seen tells me not to but, as she apologises again and stumbles towards the hidden door, I wonder if there will come a time when I need to call in a favour.
I don’t see Imrin for the next two nights. It isn’t completely uncommon for him not to come out but I take my chances and venture to the zoo both nights, walking around on my own looking at the creatures and wondering exactly where they come from and why they are being kept there. My new tortoise friend seems to spend most of its time hiding in its shell, looking at me worriedly as if I am going to make a sudden movement that it doesn’t approve of. Each time I see the tortoise, I think of Imrin’s warning. I am already fighting against it simply by coming here for no reason other than the fact that I find it relaxing.
I take more time examining the mechanisms above each of the compartments. I try to open the tortoise chamber but the borodron doesn’t work, leaving me to guess these are opened with the frequency of the thinkwatch that belongs to whoever is in charge. The one that Porter wears is slightly different to mine and gives him access to areas of the system I cannot get to.
Some of the compartments contain two or three of the same animal, others just a single one on its own. I realise that I know more species than I thought, and I’m able to identify chickens, turkeys, snakes and a few other creatures I have seen around the gully.
Meanwhile, in the evenings, Jela is slowly allowing me to get closer to her. On the day of the next banquet, she is sitting on my bed as I return to the dorm.
‘Hello,’ I say.
‘Hello.’
‘How has your day been?’
No answer.
‘Do you want me to do something to your hair before we eat?’
Jela angles her head towards the brush on my bed but doesn’t say anything. I start running it through her hair, commenting on how long and soft it is, and then separating it into bunches so I can plait it.
‘Tell me about your home again,’ she says.
By the time Jela has spoken, the room is practically full of the remaining girls. By now there are only nine of us as one by one people go to their jobs and don’t return. The ones who are left have all been watching me on and off and go quiet at Jela’s words. I realise everyone is listening as I think of the zoo and then begin to speak. ‘Do you remember the wildflowers I told you about? Not long after they bloom, lots of butterflies appear. Every time you go out to the meadow, they are fluttering along, zipping up and down by the dying flowers.’
I criss-cross the strands of Jela’s hair and look up to see everyone watching me, including Pietra from the far side of the room.
‘I have a little brother named Colt. Everyone says he looks like me but I don’t think it’s true. He’s only nine, so it’s a few years yet until he has to take the Reckoning. My friend has this little brother too, named Imp. He’s only six but he’s this gorgeous little guy with blonde hair that’s all over the place. Last year my friend and I took Colt and Imp out to the field to see the butterflies. Imp took one look at them and he was tearing off into the field trying to catch one. Colt was completely the opposite though; he couldn’t even say “butterfly”.’
‘What did he call them?’
I am so surprised at Jela’s interruption that I almost let her hair go. Instead, I pause just for a moment as I tighten the braid and then wrap a tie around the bottom and place my hands on her hips.
‘He tries to say “butterfly”, but every time he does, the word “flutterby” comes out. I even talk him through it: “but-ter-fly”, but he’ll say: “flut-ter-by”. I keep making fun of him. Last year, we had some extra butter in our rations but I would never hand it to Colt unless he asked for the “flutter”. In the end he got really annoyed and stormed into his room. Then he came back five minutes later and asked if he could have some flutter on his bread. I laughed for so long, I thought my stomach was going to burst.’
Jela giggles gently for the first time since I saw her on the train. ‘Did Imp ever catch a butterfly?’ Her words seem to light up the room and I hear others laughing gently around us.
‘Ha! If you’d ever met him, you’d know he has no chance. He rushed around until he tired himself out and then his big brother had to carry him back to bed.’
Jela doesn’t say anything at first but then she slowly turns to face me. ‘I’m so sorry they’ve got you too, Silver. I don’t have any of that; I deserve this type of thing but you … you have a life.’
It is by far the most she has said since she returned to the room and I feel a lump in my throat as she puts an arm around me. I am desperate not to cry in front of the others but it is the tears on Faith’s face that set me off.
Jela hugs me tightly as I hold her, trying to get a grip on myself, but all I can think of is my mum, Colt, Imp, Opie … and Imrin. I don’t even know how I can think of them in the same place as they represent such different extremes of my life.
After what seems like an age, I separate myself and Jela wipes the leftover tears away from my eyes and whispers a ‘thank you’ in my ear, before returning to her bed.
Everyone has caught on to the fact that dressing up isn’t the best of ideas, so it is perhaps no surprise that when Ignacia comes to escort us she looks at us disapprovingly.
The hall itself is back to its usual appearance for the feast and, as with the past few meals, I eat steadily, focusing on the meat and avoiding anything that will fill me up too fast. Despite my best attempts, I am frustratingly full before the main course is finished. Jela is sitting next to me and for the first time, she seems to be eating relatively well. Not wanting to attract too much attention, I whisper to ask if she is all right. She doesn’t answer with words, instead delicately brushing my arm as she reaches for an apple.
As the food is cleared away, we are told to stand as the benches are moved to the sides. I remember Imrin’s theory and notice there are only four Kingsmen in the arena, plus one standing behind the King and, I suppose, the Minister Prime.
The boys retreat to one side of the room while everyone from our dorm sits on the other as the King rises. The girl with the green dress who was taken days before is sitting at his side and, although she doesn’t seem as haunted as Jela did, there is clearly something not right as she glares at the King’s back while he clears his throat.
‘My subjects, my Offerings,’ he says in the exact cheerful, authoritative tone he did last time. ‘I am still trying to find myself a full-time champion and feel it is time for us all to have a little more … fun.’
His emphasis on the final word is punctuated by a chuckle that no one joins in with.
‘I feel that, after the boys gave us such a show last time, it should probably be the turn of the girls.’
My heart sinks as I do the odds in my head. There are now only nine girls down here, including Jela – and there’s no way I’ll let her take any further punishment. That means I have a one in eight chance of being chosen – and that’s if he picks one girl. If there are two of us, it is one in four.
‘Do we have any volunteers?’ The King looks hopefully down at us but, unsurprisingly, nobody steps forward. His face falls slightly in annoyance. ‘Right then,’ he adds, rolling the R. ‘In that case, we will have to draw.’
He looks around puzzled until he sees Ignacia, who he waves over and whispers something in her ear. She looks around, part-annoyed, part-frantic until somebody in the rows above the royal box hands her something that looks like paper. After some quick scribbling, she tears the page to bits and then screws them all into tight balls, holding them in her hands and offering them to the King.
He grins unerringly as he selects the first scrap and unballs it before crisply and joyfully reading the name: ‘Pietra Lewis’.
I look sideways as Pietra rises from the bench, clumsily stepping forward and almost tripping over the bottom of her long, plain purple dress. Her eyes are wide with fear and shock at what could happen next. The last time this happened, three boys were killed in front of us.
As I watch her trembling arms, I hear the next name, each syllable echoing through me with more viciousness than the last.
‘Silver Blackthorn.’