“I don’t know why you insist on dumping refuse when it’s dark,” she grumbled.
Perla didn’t approve of unnecessary risks, and as far as she was concerned Sivo took far too many of those.
“Midlight doesn’t last long enough to do all the things that need to be done in a day.” He didn’t sound annoyed as he uttered this. A remarkable fact considering he uttered it almost daily. Midlight lasted no more than an hour, but it was the only time a semblance of light emerged to push out the night. “Besides, root truffles don’t bloom in midlight.”
Perla gasped with delight. I smelled their pungent aroma as soon as Sivo pulled some from his pocket and held them out for her to see.
“Make a fine dinner,” he murmured. “Especially if you cook them with some of those potatoes the way you do.”
She cleared her throat and tried to sound gruff as she said, “Put them in the kitchen. We’ll have them on the morrow for your birthday. Still not worth the risk.” She had to add that last bit.
“I look forward to it.” Sivo’s voice rang out cheerfully. In the grimmest hour, he was forever optimistic. “Well, I’m off to bed. See you girls in the morning.”
“Good night, Sivo,” I called. Normally he would hug me, but he hastened away. Probably to remove his boots and clean up any trail of mud he’d left.
Alone in my chamber with Perla again, I moistened my lips. “I could have helped Sivo pick more.” Silence. “Four hands can gather more than two. . . .”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter.” She lifted a stack of towels and moved to the armoire. Her joints popped as she bent to store the linens inside. She slammed the doors shut with decided force. “Don’t bring it up again tomorrow and ruin Sivo’s day. Can you promise me that?”
I exhaled, nodding. “I won’t bring it up tomorrow.”
She snorted, not missing that I promised for only tomorrow. Stopping before me, she cupped my cheek with her work-roughened palm. “I’ve only ever wanted you safe. Protected.”
I squeezed her hand and appealed one more time. “What will keeping me locked up inside this tower ever accomplish?”
“You’ll live.” Frustration rang in her voice.
“Not forever,” I argued. “We all die, Perla.”
“Some sooner than others.” Her voice hardened. “Your parents met their deaths too early. I won’t have the same fate befall you. You’re the queen of Relhok.”
The words never ceased to startle me. I didn’t feel like a queen. “A queen stuck in a tower. What good is that to the people of Relhok? How is that a better fate?”
“What good will you be dead?” she countered. “Someday the eclipse will end and the dwellers will go away—”
She stopped at my choked snort. No one knew when it would end. If it ever would. The pressure of her hand stopped me from commenting further.
“Someday it will all end,” she repeated. “And then you’ll be free of this tower. Until then, you’ll stay inside and be safe.”
Her hand dropped from my face. Her steady tread moved away, and she lifted the remaining stack of linens from the bed. I felt her gaze linger on me. “That is your fate.”
She departed the room then, the soft leather soles of her shoes whispering over the stone floor.
Alone in my chamber, I opened the balcony doors again and stepped back outside. My chest burned with an uncomfortable tightness and my face flushed hotly as my conversation with Perla tracked through my mind. Suddenly I couldn’t draw enough air into my starving lungs.
Frustration wasn’t a new sensation, but tonight was the first night I felt anger bubble up inside me. I clasped the cold stone railing until the blood ceased to flow through my fingers and my knuckles ached. Perla couldn’t determine my fate. Only I could. If I decided to do something, even she couldn’t stop me.
“This tower isn’t my fate.” The words flew out over the deep mist, a pledge to myself.
TWO
Luna
SEVERAL HOURS AFTER Perla and Sivo retired for the night, I crept through the darkness down the winding stairs leading to the bottom of the tower. The rabbit’s scream echoed faintly in my ears as I made my way, a reminder of what awaited me on the Outside. I didn’t push the memory away. I clung to it, letting it keep me vigilant.