Sliding my bow back on my shoulder, I grabbed hold of the trunk and scaled its width, grabbing one low-hanging branch with both hands. I dangled a moment from the branch, swinging my legs and gaining momentum until I managed to get my boots up and over the sturdy branch where Luna was crouched.
She stretched a hand for me and I took it, scooting up alongside her. Right now, the feel of her slim hand in mine felt right. It fortified me. A few moments ago, men had wanted her head in a bag. My chest clenched tight, almost hurting. In this moment, touching her did not bother me in the least.
“Fowler.” My name shuddered out from her, and I realized she had thought she might not find me again. Perhaps she even thought me dead and herself on her own out here. The idea of her all alone sickened me almost as much as that man taking her head. Either one would be the end of her.
“Thought you lost me, did you?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
A weak laugh escaped her. She quickly killed the sound as a dweller approached, shuffling below us. The feelers at its mouth wiggled, sensing its prey—us.
I’d seen several dwellers up close before. The receptors at the center of their faces varied in number and length. I’d seen one with as few as five and other dwellers with a whole nest of them a foot long, working in a frenzy like an army of writhing antennae.
I’d theorized that it had something to do with their age. Or perhaps it was related to their strength and stamina as hunters.
This one appeared average. No more than a dozen tentacle-like receptors worked on the air as it paused below our tree.
We fell silent, every muscle locked tight. I held my breath. I’d never known a dweller to climb a tree, but there was a first time for everything. After a moment, I realized I clutched Luna’s hand. I was holding her fingers so tightly the blood had probably ceased to flow. I eased my grip, but she seized my hand, not letting me release her.
She shook her head, staring in my direction. A long dark strand of hair had come loose of her plait and dangled in her face. I brushed it back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
We listened to the dweller as it moved, turning down another row of trees. Once it was far enough away that I couldn’t see it anymore against the dark, I shifted my weight and settled back against the trunk, sliding my hand up her arm and pulling her close. Luna came willingly, curling herself into my body as eagerly and trusting as a child. My heart squeezed.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why do they want to kill girls?”
I scanned the ground below, assuring myself that no dwellers were in sight. “The king,” I corrected. “The king wants to kill girls. And I don’t know why.”
“At least we know why they killed Dagne now.”
I nodded, my thumb moving in slow circles on the back of her hand.
“What am I going to do?” The question made her sound so alone, so lost and without anyone.
“We know now,” I said.
She nodded, but I could still tell she was troubled.
I tugged lightly at the end of her plait. “These will have to go.”
She lifted her chin, her eyebrows drawing together. “What?”
“You’re already garbed as a boy in trousers. Let’s make the transformation complete.”
“You want to turn me into a boy?” Her expression eased. “Ah. Yes, of course.”
“I’m not sure it will work. I’m certain you’re not the only girl in this kingdom undergoing a gender change. People will be on the lookout for pretty boys, but from a distance you should pass.”
“Then you shall have to make me not pretty.”
“Easier said than done.” The moment the words escaped, I wished to have them back. Her head lifted, reminding me of an animal catching a new, alien scent.
“You think I’m pretty?” Hope rang in her voice.
“Fair enough,” I conceded. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Oh.” She exhaled, sounding faintly indignant. Even in the gloom, I could make out the heat creeping over her cheeks, the scarlet flush moving like an incoming storm on her pale cheeks. “I imagine you have a great deal of comparison. Growing up in the capital, there must have been a good many girls, far finer of face than I am.” She motioned into the night. “More than you might find roaming out here, I am certain.”
“Luna,” I broke in, but she didn’t stop. Her whispered voice grew feverish and fast.
“No, no, I must have sounded pathetic, fishing for a compliment. The girl stuck in a tower all her life, starved for a bit of male attention.”
“Luna, enough.”
She stopped, her lips pressing into a stubborn line. An awkward pause rolled between us. Her head suddenly turned down, realizing she still clung to my hand. She let go and tucked her hand between her folded thigh and calf.
I looked out at the orchard and then back to her, sighing. “I wasn’t exactly being truthful. You’re passing fair.”
“You needn’t say that to make me feel better. I’m blind. What do my looks matter to me?” She snorted. “Why do anyone’s looks matter?”
“I’m not lying. Not now—I simply didn’t want to admit—” I stopped and stared out into the sea of trees again, their black shapes etched on a slightly less black horizon. Frustration bubbled up in my chest. This was precisely what I had hoped to avoid.