Defiance
Page 20
I shake my head. “Because Identidiscs aren’t designed to pick up a signal any older than two weeks.”
“Why not?”
I grin. “Because I didn’t design them. Besides, we aren’t going to steal anything and risk showing the Commander what we’re up to. The device I’m building uses passive sonar, which means it receives echoes without sending its own out. I’m tasking it to only receive the lingering echoes of Jared’s unique signal.”
“But if it’s been months since he was in an area—”
“Sound never really disappears. I’m building a powerful battery for this, so if he’s been in an area within the last six months, I’ll catch his echo and we’ll be able to find him.”
She smiles, and genuine warmth fills her eyes. “You’re a genius. Thank you.”
Her words make me feel like I’m standing taller. “You’re welcome.”
She gestures at the half-finished invention. “Why did you apprentice yourself to Dad? It’s clear inventing tech is what you love. Why train to be a courier?”
I meet her gaze for a moment, weighing the risks of telling her what I’ve held in secret all these years. We might not like each other half the time, and we might misunderstand each other regularly, but she’s loyal to the core. Knowing I can trust her unlocks the words, and they rush from me as if they’ve been waiting for a chance to be heard.
“Because I hate living in Baalboden. Every time I look at the cobblestone streets, I see my mother dying. Every time I look at the Wall, I remember who killed her and branded me an outcast when I was just a child. If I have to stay here for the rest of my life, I might … I don’t know if I can be the man I want to be while I live here.”
She nods, her eyes remaining steadily on mine.
“I figured if I learned to be a courier, one day the Commander would send me out alone.”
“And you could disappear?”
“Yes.”
Her voice is sharp. “Did you think of what that would do to those of us who care about you?”
My throat feels tight as I say, “I didn’t realize you would miss me. Besides, did you think of what your disappearing act tonight would’ve done to me?”
Her cheeks flush a delicate pink. “I didn’t realize you would miss me, either.”
I smile, and it takes a minute to realize my common sense is once again sliding into Kiss Rachel territory. This time, it’s not because my body demands it, but because the affection in her voice beckons me.
Which clearly means I’m in dire need of another subject change.
“We don’t have to worry about that now,” I say. “We’ll be leaving together. Give me one week, and the tracking device will be ready. We can leave the day after the Claiming ceremony.”
I ignore the way her smile lights the room, and turn toward the table. “I should get to work.”
“I should get some sleep.” Her voice sounds breathless as she slips past me to head toward the loft.
I sit at the kitchen table and face the tracking device, shelving all distracting thoughts of Rachel. I hope the Commander is willing to give me a week to get ready for the trip. I need those seven days. Two days to finish Jared’s tracking device. And five more to build one for Rachel.
I’m not going to be caught off guard again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RACHEL
It’s been three days since my disastrous escape attempt. Logan spends most of his time fiddling with circuitry and ink-stained plans. I spend most of my time sharpening weapons and practicing how to run a man through the heart while I do my best to forget the awful wet sucking sound a sword makes when it pulls free of a body. We have little to do with each other until the evenings when he sets aside his work, I put down the swords, and we sit on his tiny porch eating supper and watching the sun bleed itself out over the ramparts of the Wall.
We talk about Dad. Oliver. Sparring techniques. The fact that neither of us has a clue what’s in the package and why Dad refused to deliver it. We talk about anything but the strange almost-kiss we shared the night I tried to go over the Wall. Its unspoken significance presses against my heart, making it hard to look at Logan without yearning for something I know neither of us really want.
Logan made it plain years ago that romance wasn’t an option. And I’m a different girl from the starry-eyed fifteen-year-old who thought she was in love. The almost-kiss was nothing more than too much emotion, too much tension, and a split second of dropping my guard. It won’t happen again.
Over breakfast, Logan announces that we need to go into town for supplies. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t require me to come along. But with guards watching the cottage day and night, leaving me home alone is a risk he isn’t willing to take.
I don’t bother arguing. I’m eager to get away from the small confines of Logan’s house, and I’m surprised to realize I look forward to spending the day shopping for supplies with him. We’ve somehow worked our way into a tentative truce, and it feels nice to walk next to him down the pressed dirt road leading into town.
Logan’s cottage is nestled in between his neighbor’s apple orchard and a planting field owned by one of the wealthy merchants from Center Square. Last year, the merchant planted corn, and the broken stubs of the harvested plants still poke through the ground like jagged teeth. A guard rises up out of the cornfield as we pass, and another steps out of the orchard. I mutter something under my breath.
“Why not?”
I grin. “Because I didn’t design them. Besides, we aren’t going to steal anything and risk showing the Commander what we’re up to. The device I’m building uses passive sonar, which means it receives echoes without sending its own out. I’m tasking it to only receive the lingering echoes of Jared’s unique signal.”
“But if it’s been months since he was in an area—”
“Sound never really disappears. I’m building a powerful battery for this, so if he’s been in an area within the last six months, I’ll catch his echo and we’ll be able to find him.”
She smiles, and genuine warmth fills her eyes. “You’re a genius. Thank you.”
Her words make me feel like I’m standing taller. “You’re welcome.”
She gestures at the half-finished invention. “Why did you apprentice yourself to Dad? It’s clear inventing tech is what you love. Why train to be a courier?”
I meet her gaze for a moment, weighing the risks of telling her what I’ve held in secret all these years. We might not like each other half the time, and we might misunderstand each other regularly, but she’s loyal to the core. Knowing I can trust her unlocks the words, and they rush from me as if they’ve been waiting for a chance to be heard.
“Because I hate living in Baalboden. Every time I look at the cobblestone streets, I see my mother dying. Every time I look at the Wall, I remember who killed her and branded me an outcast when I was just a child. If I have to stay here for the rest of my life, I might … I don’t know if I can be the man I want to be while I live here.”
She nods, her eyes remaining steadily on mine.
“I figured if I learned to be a courier, one day the Commander would send me out alone.”
“And you could disappear?”
“Yes.”
Her voice is sharp. “Did you think of what that would do to those of us who care about you?”
My throat feels tight as I say, “I didn’t realize you would miss me. Besides, did you think of what your disappearing act tonight would’ve done to me?”
Her cheeks flush a delicate pink. “I didn’t realize you would miss me, either.”
I smile, and it takes a minute to realize my common sense is once again sliding into Kiss Rachel territory. This time, it’s not because my body demands it, but because the affection in her voice beckons me.
Which clearly means I’m in dire need of another subject change.
“We don’t have to worry about that now,” I say. “We’ll be leaving together. Give me one week, and the tracking device will be ready. We can leave the day after the Claiming ceremony.”
I ignore the way her smile lights the room, and turn toward the table. “I should get to work.”
“I should get some sleep.” Her voice sounds breathless as she slips past me to head toward the loft.
I sit at the kitchen table and face the tracking device, shelving all distracting thoughts of Rachel. I hope the Commander is willing to give me a week to get ready for the trip. I need those seven days. Two days to finish Jared’s tracking device. And five more to build one for Rachel.
I’m not going to be caught off guard again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RACHEL
It’s been three days since my disastrous escape attempt. Logan spends most of his time fiddling with circuitry and ink-stained plans. I spend most of my time sharpening weapons and practicing how to run a man through the heart while I do my best to forget the awful wet sucking sound a sword makes when it pulls free of a body. We have little to do with each other until the evenings when he sets aside his work, I put down the swords, and we sit on his tiny porch eating supper and watching the sun bleed itself out over the ramparts of the Wall.
We talk about Dad. Oliver. Sparring techniques. The fact that neither of us has a clue what’s in the package and why Dad refused to deliver it. We talk about anything but the strange almost-kiss we shared the night I tried to go over the Wall. Its unspoken significance presses against my heart, making it hard to look at Logan without yearning for something I know neither of us really want.
Logan made it plain years ago that romance wasn’t an option. And I’m a different girl from the starry-eyed fifteen-year-old who thought she was in love. The almost-kiss was nothing more than too much emotion, too much tension, and a split second of dropping my guard. It won’t happen again.
Over breakfast, Logan announces that we need to go into town for supplies. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t require me to come along. But with guards watching the cottage day and night, leaving me home alone is a risk he isn’t willing to take.
I don’t bother arguing. I’m eager to get away from the small confines of Logan’s house, and I’m surprised to realize I look forward to spending the day shopping for supplies with him. We’ve somehow worked our way into a tentative truce, and it feels nice to walk next to him down the pressed dirt road leading into town.
Logan’s cottage is nestled in between his neighbor’s apple orchard and a planting field owned by one of the wealthy merchants from Center Square. Last year, the merchant planted corn, and the broken stubs of the harvested plants still poke through the ground like jagged teeth. A guard rises up out of the cornfield as we pass, and another steps out of the orchard. I mutter something under my breath.
