A sudden laugh had my head whipping around.
“No place is safe.” Fowler sat in the corner. He had been there all along. His body was utterly still in a chair near the balcony. I’d occupied that seat for countless hours with the balcony doors open to the outside world, listening to the winds and drone of insects and the distant sounds of dark dwellers. Occasionally, I could hear the death of some poor animal as it fell victim to their ravenous appetites. We weren’t the only things they fed upon.
The seat cushion bore a permanent indentation from my weight, and now he filled it, altering its shape so that the next time I sat in it I would only think of him and remember the boy—man—who wore his selfishness like a badge of honor.
My awareness of him burned a path through me. I brushed a stray strand of hair back from my cheek and tried to pretend I didn’t feel his stare. And yet, like an animal aware of something else in its orbit, I knew he was there, watching me, thinking about our last encounter and the truth of my existence. A girl without sight in a world where we lived as prey.
I could feel him thinking about me, the knowledge whispering in the space between us like a ghost’s breath. Sivo and Perla would panic when they learned this vulnerability had been exposed. And then they would only worry that he might discover the rest. That he would figure out who I was.
But he would be leaving tomorrow.
A desperate breath welled up inside me as though I was on the verge of losing something, a chance . . . an opportunity for something new and strange and exciting. A short time ago I stood alone in a room with him. The air churning from cold to hot, thin to thick, in a way I had never felt before.
He rose and left the room without a word.
I exhaled, feeling like I was balancing on a knife’s edge, anxious with the knowledge that he was going to leave and that would be the end of all this. A return to monotony.
I turned my attention back to Dagne. “Your friend—” I stopped short of saying leader, but the moment the word “friend” escaped I knew that didn’t fit either. “He’s good out there.”
“He doesn’t want us with him.” She said this as though it was a simple truth. “And he won’t wait for Madoc to recover.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” I winced at the lie. By his own admission, it was the truth, but a part of me believed, hoped, that he wouldn’t be so merciless as to walk out on them. Would he abandon them so carelessly? As though they were nothing to him?
She laughed harshly. “Oh, it’s the truth. You have been living in this tower a long time, haven’t you? You can rely on no one.”
Heat broke out over my face for revealing my na?veté.
“Life is unkind. That Fowler even stopped for us at all, that he didn’t kill us or hurt us . . .” She paused. “Well, that’s as generous as you can expect anyone to be.”
I didn’t want to believe that. There had to be more. People had to be . . . better. I couldn’t let her destroy my hope for more. “Where are you from?”
“It doesn’t matter. Every place is the same. Except for here. It’s nice here. Your hair . . . it’s so shiny and clean. Those ribbons are pretty.”
Reaching up, I removed a ribbon, threading it free from my hair. I offered it to her. It was a small thing to do, but it would bring her pleasure. I was certain of that.
The ribbon slipped from my grasp, and I knew she took it. “Th-thank you.”
I nodded.
She sighed. “We left our village years ago. My father, Madoc, and I. We’ve been moving ever since. Even after Papa . . .” Her voice faded.
He wasn’t with them now. That was explanation enough.
Her voice softened and I heard the whisper of her fingertips through her brother’s hair. “Sometimes we found a place that seemed safe. An abandoned cottage. A cave. Once we found an old mill. We stayed there a couple months. Others came; they took it from us. They took—they took everything—” Her voice broke a little and it was minutes before she said anything else. I didn’t know what to say. I could only imagine with a shudder what everything was to her. “I’m glad Papa wasn’t around anymore when that happened. This tower is a small slice of heaven.”
She wanted to stay here. It was obvious. But would Perla let her? Would Sivo? Their goal was to keep me alive and protect my identity. They would see keeping her and Madoc as being at odds with that goal.
“Perhaps Fowler will wait,” I suggested, even knowing in my gut that he wouldn’t.
She released a laugh that twisted into a sob. “No. But don’t worry. I don’t expect you to let us stay here. I don’t expect anything from anyone. We keep going, right? That’s the only thing to do.”
I nodded. Keep going. Except for me. I had to stay put.
Her words, Madoc thrashing on the bed, the coppery tang of his blood—all of it was too much, too ripe in my nose. Dagne’s tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks, flavoring the air with salt.