Defiance
Page 23
Oliver clears his throat loudly. “With your dad gone, and your mama dead, I guess it falls to me to explain the way things, um, work between a man and a woman.”
“What? No.” I shake my head violently. Nothing could be more awkward than Oliver giving me the here’s-where-babies-come-from talk.
“Unless you’d rather have this conversation with Logan.”
I stand corrected. “Stop right now.”
We turn the corner by the alchemist’s and move toward the gate, still choked with citizens coming to trade with the band of highwaymen who’ve set up temporary camp at the edge of Baalboden’s perimeter. The sun hangs in the sky like a ripe orange, though the breeze still carries the last remnants of winter’s chill.
“You’re nearly of Claiming age. Soon, men will look at you in a certain way. Even Logan might look at you differently.”
I remember the intensity in Logan’s eyes as we leaned close to each other in his kitchen. The way his hand felt pressed against my skin. The moment I realized I’d misjudged his intentions and his courage. I don’t know if Logan is looking at me differently now, but I feel like I can see him clearly for the first time in all the years I’ve known him. The new understanding I have of him makes my heart ache just a little for the two years of lost friendship my wounded pride demanded.
“I don’t want you to accept a Claim by just any man who looks half decent and has a roof to offer. You’re worth more than this entire town put together, Rachel-girl. Don’t you forget it.”
“You’re biased.”
He laughs, a warm, rich sound that vibrates through my cheek as I press against him. “Maybe I am. But when the time comes, don’t settle. Make sure the man you choose sees you as you truly are and loves you for it.”
“I will.”
“Sure is going to be a proud day for me when I see you decked out in that finery on the Claiming stage. I just hope I live long enough to be a great-granddaddy to your children.” He finishes his meat and tosses his stick aside.
“Of course you will.” A sharp pain slices into me as I realize if Logan and I disappear into the Wasteland with Dad, Oliver will miss seeing me Claimed, and he’ll never be a great-granddaddy to my future children. I glance at a passing guard, resplendent in his military uniform, and my steps falter as the full impact of our plan hits me. Not only will Oliver miss those important moments in my life, he’ll be the only one left here to pay the price for our deception. I have no doubt the Commander will torture and kill Oliver as a lasting example of the price of disobedience and disloyalty.
I tighten my hand around Oliver’s arm and make a decision. Logan will just have to figure out a way to smuggle Oliver out with us. I refuse to leave him behind.
We’re nearly past the gate when the ground beneath us trembles. Little pebbles and loose grains of sand skip and slide across the cobblestones. Outside the gate, someone screams.
I lock eyes with Oliver, and he pushes me off the road as the citizens nearest the gate panic. Knocking each other down, Protectors half-dragging their women, they race past us. I stumble off the cobblestones and onto the uneven space of grass between the gate and the Market road. Oliver is right behind me.
The vibrations beneath us increase in strength, and I dig my fingers into Oliver’s arm.
“It will surface outside the Wall,” he says. His voice sounds like he’s carrying a weight he can’t bear to shoulder.
I look through the still-open gate and my stomach sinks. Baalboden citizens are out there. They left for the sanctioned highwaymen trading day, and they won’t have time to cross the perimeter of scorched earth to get back inside the Wall before the Cursed One arrives.
Even as I finish the thought, several citizens break free of the frightened, milling pack at the edge of the Wasteland and sprint toward the safety of the gate. Others scramble to climb trees or get in the highwaymen’s wagons, though I can’t see how that will help. A guard leaves the gatehouse and races past us on horseback, no doubt heading toward the Commander’s compound.
“Get back. Rachel, get back!” Oliver pulls at me as another wave of terrified citizens fight to get out of harm’s way and back into Lower Market.
I take an elbow to the chest from a husky man in a tattered cloak, and spin out of the way before the mule rider behind him can crush me beneath his steed’s hooves.
“Rachel!” Oliver yells as the same husky man gets knocked off the road by the mule and slams into Oliver, sending them both sprawling. The ground shakes so much it’s hard to find my footing, but I claw my way over to them, grab the man’s arm, and wrestle him off Oliver.
Behind me, the screams are eclipsed by a raw, primal roar of fury, and I whip my head around to see the glistening black length of the Cursed One burst through the ground. It’s huge, nearly half the height of the Wall, and just as thick. It’s my first actual sighting of the beast, and every instinct in me screams to run, but I can’t look away. Besides, running means leaving Oliver behind, and I won’t do that. I just have to hope the legend about the Cursed One never attacking inside Baalboden’s Wall is true.
Lashing its serpentlike tail, the beast crushes two of the citizens running toward the gate, but its attention is on the horde of highwaymen and citizens in front of it. Horror trembles through me as the creature opens its mouth and strafes the closest wagons and people with fire.
“Rachel, leave!” Oliver is yelling at me, but I can barely hear him over the screams.
“What? No.” I shake my head violently. Nothing could be more awkward than Oliver giving me the here’s-where-babies-come-from talk.
“Unless you’d rather have this conversation with Logan.”
I stand corrected. “Stop right now.”
We turn the corner by the alchemist’s and move toward the gate, still choked with citizens coming to trade with the band of highwaymen who’ve set up temporary camp at the edge of Baalboden’s perimeter. The sun hangs in the sky like a ripe orange, though the breeze still carries the last remnants of winter’s chill.
“You’re nearly of Claiming age. Soon, men will look at you in a certain way. Even Logan might look at you differently.”
I remember the intensity in Logan’s eyes as we leaned close to each other in his kitchen. The way his hand felt pressed against my skin. The moment I realized I’d misjudged his intentions and his courage. I don’t know if Logan is looking at me differently now, but I feel like I can see him clearly for the first time in all the years I’ve known him. The new understanding I have of him makes my heart ache just a little for the two years of lost friendship my wounded pride demanded.
“I don’t want you to accept a Claim by just any man who looks half decent and has a roof to offer. You’re worth more than this entire town put together, Rachel-girl. Don’t you forget it.”
“You’re biased.”
He laughs, a warm, rich sound that vibrates through my cheek as I press against him. “Maybe I am. But when the time comes, don’t settle. Make sure the man you choose sees you as you truly are and loves you for it.”
“I will.”
“Sure is going to be a proud day for me when I see you decked out in that finery on the Claiming stage. I just hope I live long enough to be a great-granddaddy to your children.” He finishes his meat and tosses his stick aside.
“Of course you will.” A sharp pain slices into me as I realize if Logan and I disappear into the Wasteland with Dad, Oliver will miss seeing me Claimed, and he’ll never be a great-granddaddy to my future children. I glance at a passing guard, resplendent in his military uniform, and my steps falter as the full impact of our plan hits me. Not only will Oliver miss those important moments in my life, he’ll be the only one left here to pay the price for our deception. I have no doubt the Commander will torture and kill Oliver as a lasting example of the price of disobedience and disloyalty.
I tighten my hand around Oliver’s arm and make a decision. Logan will just have to figure out a way to smuggle Oliver out with us. I refuse to leave him behind.
We’re nearly past the gate when the ground beneath us trembles. Little pebbles and loose grains of sand skip and slide across the cobblestones. Outside the gate, someone screams.
I lock eyes with Oliver, and he pushes me off the road as the citizens nearest the gate panic. Knocking each other down, Protectors half-dragging their women, they race past us. I stumble off the cobblestones and onto the uneven space of grass between the gate and the Market road. Oliver is right behind me.
The vibrations beneath us increase in strength, and I dig my fingers into Oliver’s arm.
“It will surface outside the Wall,” he says. His voice sounds like he’s carrying a weight he can’t bear to shoulder.
I look through the still-open gate and my stomach sinks. Baalboden citizens are out there. They left for the sanctioned highwaymen trading day, and they won’t have time to cross the perimeter of scorched earth to get back inside the Wall before the Cursed One arrives.
Even as I finish the thought, several citizens break free of the frightened, milling pack at the edge of the Wasteland and sprint toward the safety of the gate. Others scramble to climb trees or get in the highwaymen’s wagons, though I can’t see how that will help. A guard leaves the gatehouse and races past us on horseback, no doubt heading toward the Commander’s compound.
“Get back. Rachel, get back!” Oliver pulls at me as another wave of terrified citizens fight to get out of harm’s way and back into Lower Market.
I take an elbow to the chest from a husky man in a tattered cloak, and spin out of the way before the mule rider behind him can crush me beneath his steed’s hooves.
“Rachel!” Oliver yells as the same husky man gets knocked off the road by the mule and slams into Oliver, sending them both sprawling. The ground shakes so much it’s hard to find my footing, but I claw my way over to them, grab the man’s arm, and wrestle him off Oliver.
Behind me, the screams are eclipsed by a raw, primal roar of fury, and I whip my head around to see the glistening black length of the Cursed One burst through the ground. It’s huge, nearly half the height of the Wall, and just as thick. It’s my first actual sighting of the beast, and every instinct in me screams to run, but I can’t look away. Besides, running means leaving Oliver behind, and I won’t do that. I just have to hope the legend about the Cursed One never attacking inside Baalboden’s Wall is true.
Lashing its serpentlike tail, the beast crushes two of the citizens running toward the gate, but its attention is on the horde of highwaymen and citizens in front of it. Horror trembles through me as the creature opens its mouth and strafes the closest wagons and people with fire.
“Rachel, leave!” Oliver is yelling at me, but I can barely hear him over the screams.
