Midnight Jewel
Page 63
“Oh yes. She was definitely interested. Just not in him.” Aiana laughed so loudly that I glanced around uneasily. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when she went back to my room. I almost feel bad about it sometimes. Almost. He had better luck with some other girl the next night, so things worked out for him. Then we were on the road again, and he never looked back. He never does. He doesn’t want to be attached to anyone. He doesn’t want them to be attached to him.”
I was past the point of even trying to carry my half of the conversation. One foot in front of the other. That was all I had to do. We’d reached the marsh, so Wisteria Hollow wasn’t much farther.
“So, that’s him. But me? I don’t know.” Aiana’s voice continued in the darkness, suddenly more subdued. “A night like that is fun, but it’s not what I really want. I want to wake up to the same person every morning. I want to be able to tell her anything. I want honesty and understanding. I want to be dizzy with love and feel it grow more and more each day. But maybe that’s too much to ask. Maybe you and Iyitsi have it right after all.”
“What?” Was it possible she’d found out?
“I see you at those parties, Mira. You’re like him. You aren’t looking for attachment either.” The lights of Wisteria Hollow peeped through the trees ahead. Her earlier sadness returned. “You stay cool. You don’t lose your head. And you know what? You should probably keep doing that—because then you won’t lose your heart either.”
I stared up at the sky, noting the position of Ariniel’s star. “Thanks,” I said dully. “I’ll try to remember that.”
CHAPTER 18
I SPENT ALMOST THE ENTIRE NEXT DAY PROCESSING WHAT had happened with Grant. His rejection filled me with humiliation. I’d brushed off a lot of advances over the years, and as much as I hated to admit it, they had left me with the egotistical assumption that of course men wanted me. All I had to do was show up. Discovering that wasn’t true still stung. Aiana’s tipsy recounting of Grant’s past left me unsettled too—but that was a more complex feeling to understand. Why should I care that he sought impersonal, one-time liaisons? His dislike of attachment had never been a secret. And I’d made my own intentions very clear. I wanted my own shot at passion before being locked into marriage. I’d even gone so far as to say it didn’t matter if I liked him or not. So, why had he sent me away? I’d offered him exactly the type of arrangement he liked.
“You look like I feel.”
I blinked out of my dreary thoughts to find Cedric leaning against the staircase’s bannister. Everyone had returned from the evening’s social affairs, and I was the last one to come inside from my group. I stifled a yawn and paused at the bottom of the steps. He was as dashing and impeccably dressed as ever, but an obvious gloom hung over him.
“You look pretty down yourself,” I said. “What’s your excuse? Too much dancing and small talk? That’s what’s worn me out.”
His expression stayed dark. “I wish that’s what it was. Did you hear about the Alanzans who were taken?”
“What? No . . .” But then I remembered Grant mentioning how Warren Doyle’s patrols had succeeded in arresting their first batch of heretics. I hadn’t known what sect they’d captured. I peered around, verifying we were alone. “Were you there when they came?”
“I got away. I was one of the lucky ones.”
“If you were recognized—”
“I wasn’t.”
I repressed the urge to chastise him about the dangers of worshipping with others of his faith. I’d been around enough Alanzans in my life, however, to realize the futility of that argument. Their principles were too strong. “What will happen to them?”
“They’re being held in a city jail right now. Tomorrow, they’ll get split up. Some will be locked away at the prison in Archerwood. Others have been sentenced to penal servitude. Do you know what that is?”
“Unfortunately.” I felt sickened, thinking of those poor prisoners’ fates and the abuses of the system. In my head, those Alanzans wore the faces of Pablo, Fernanda, and countless other friends.
“And there’s nothing I can do about it.” He gave me a wan smile. “I wish I could be like your father. He wouldn’t let them sit there. I wish I had the courage—and skill—to march up there and set them free. But I’d probably just get myself arrested. Or killed.”
I patted his arm. “Don’t do something reckless or blame yourself. You show your courage in other ways.”
He looked skeptical of that and bid me good night. But as he retreated, I felt my heart start to race. Cedric was right about one thing. My father wouldn’t let those Alanzans suffer in prison or forced servitude. He wouldn’t prance around in jewels and finery while they awaited grim fates. He would take action. He would march up there and set the Alanzans free. He would call me selfish for standing to the side. He would call me a coward . . . again.
But I wasn’t my father, no matter how much I wanted to be sometimes. The desire to help the Alanzans burned in my chest. I needed to act, to strike out and save the innocent. But I couldn’t break into a jail. I didn’t command a network of freedom fighters.
Or did I?
I sprinted to my room and lifted my mattress, retrieving the coin Tom had given me. I squeezed it in my hand. I commanded one freedom fighter. Well, maybe “commanded” wasn’t the right word. But he did owe me a favor. What was that favor worth?
It was time to find out.
I made my usual escape, and along the woodsy trail, I noted that the ground was softening even more as the weather warmed. I wore pretty kid leather shoes tonight, which were an upgrade from dance slippers, but they still sank deep in the mud. I’d have to scrub them before Mistress Culpepper saw.
I was past the point of even trying to carry my half of the conversation. One foot in front of the other. That was all I had to do. We’d reached the marsh, so Wisteria Hollow wasn’t much farther.
“So, that’s him. But me? I don’t know.” Aiana’s voice continued in the darkness, suddenly more subdued. “A night like that is fun, but it’s not what I really want. I want to wake up to the same person every morning. I want to be able to tell her anything. I want honesty and understanding. I want to be dizzy with love and feel it grow more and more each day. But maybe that’s too much to ask. Maybe you and Iyitsi have it right after all.”
“What?” Was it possible she’d found out?
“I see you at those parties, Mira. You’re like him. You aren’t looking for attachment either.” The lights of Wisteria Hollow peeped through the trees ahead. Her earlier sadness returned. “You stay cool. You don’t lose your head. And you know what? You should probably keep doing that—because then you won’t lose your heart either.”
I stared up at the sky, noting the position of Ariniel’s star. “Thanks,” I said dully. “I’ll try to remember that.”
CHAPTER 18
I SPENT ALMOST THE ENTIRE NEXT DAY PROCESSING WHAT had happened with Grant. His rejection filled me with humiliation. I’d brushed off a lot of advances over the years, and as much as I hated to admit it, they had left me with the egotistical assumption that of course men wanted me. All I had to do was show up. Discovering that wasn’t true still stung. Aiana’s tipsy recounting of Grant’s past left me unsettled too—but that was a more complex feeling to understand. Why should I care that he sought impersonal, one-time liaisons? His dislike of attachment had never been a secret. And I’d made my own intentions very clear. I wanted my own shot at passion before being locked into marriage. I’d even gone so far as to say it didn’t matter if I liked him or not. So, why had he sent me away? I’d offered him exactly the type of arrangement he liked.
“You look like I feel.”
I blinked out of my dreary thoughts to find Cedric leaning against the staircase’s bannister. Everyone had returned from the evening’s social affairs, and I was the last one to come inside from my group. I stifled a yawn and paused at the bottom of the steps. He was as dashing and impeccably dressed as ever, but an obvious gloom hung over him.
“You look pretty down yourself,” I said. “What’s your excuse? Too much dancing and small talk? That’s what’s worn me out.”
His expression stayed dark. “I wish that’s what it was. Did you hear about the Alanzans who were taken?”
“What? No . . .” But then I remembered Grant mentioning how Warren Doyle’s patrols had succeeded in arresting their first batch of heretics. I hadn’t known what sect they’d captured. I peered around, verifying we were alone. “Were you there when they came?”
“I got away. I was one of the lucky ones.”
“If you were recognized—”
“I wasn’t.”
I repressed the urge to chastise him about the dangers of worshipping with others of his faith. I’d been around enough Alanzans in my life, however, to realize the futility of that argument. Their principles were too strong. “What will happen to them?”
“They’re being held in a city jail right now. Tomorrow, they’ll get split up. Some will be locked away at the prison in Archerwood. Others have been sentenced to penal servitude. Do you know what that is?”
“Unfortunately.” I felt sickened, thinking of those poor prisoners’ fates and the abuses of the system. In my head, those Alanzans wore the faces of Pablo, Fernanda, and countless other friends.
“And there’s nothing I can do about it.” He gave me a wan smile. “I wish I could be like your father. He wouldn’t let them sit there. I wish I had the courage—and skill—to march up there and set them free. But I’d probably just get myself arrested. Or killed.”
I patted his arm. “Don’t do something reckless or blame yourself. You show your courage in other ways.”
He looked skeptical of that and bid me good night. But as he retreated, I felt my heart start to race. Cedric was right about one thing. My father wouldn’t let those Alanzans suffer in prison or forced servitude. He wouldn’t prance around in jewels and finery while they awaited grim fates. He would take action. He would march up there and set the Alanzans free. He would call me selfish for standing to the side. He would call me a coward . . . again.
But I wasn’t my father, no matter how much I wanted to be sometimes. The desire to help the Alanzans burned in my chest. I needed to act, to strike out and save the innocent. But I couldn’t break into a jail. I didn’t command a network of freedom fighters.
Or did I?
I sprinted to my room and lifted my mattress, retrieving the coin Tom had given me. I squeezed it in my hand. I commanded one freedom fighter. Well, maybe “commanded” wasn’t the right word. But he did owe me a favor. What was that favor worth?
It was time to find out.
I made my usual escape, and along the woodsy trail, I noted that the ground was softening even more as the weather warmed. I wore pretty kid leather shoes tonight, which were an upgrade from dance slippers, but they still sank deep in the mud. I’d have to scrub them before Mistress Culpepper saw.
