Shards and Ashes

  “There are always rumors, Rayne. You can’t pay them any mind.”

  “But this—this was about Braeden.”

  “Oh.” She paused, as if uncertain how to react, then reached to grip my hands. “I know you must feel some guilt, but you shouldn’t. You really and truly shouldn’t. You did the right thing, and I’m sure he’s fine. He grew up Outside, remember?”

  “It—it’s not that.”

  “I know it is.” She enunciated each word carefully, as if I truly were a child. “You did the right thing.”

  “I didn’t do any—” I sucked in breath. “It doesn’t matter. What I heard was about the interrogation. When they forced him to transform.” I paused. “Who witnesses that?”

  She frowned. “Hmm?”

  “When an alleged supernatural is forced to reveal his or her powers, who is there to witness it? Is one of the Six present?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “So it’s . . . just a prefect.”

  “And a regulator, of course,” she said.

  “But no one else?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I heard—” I stopped myself. “Nothing. I heard nothing. I’m sorry.”

  I broke from her grip and fled into my quarters.

  I avoided Priscilla for the next two days. It wasn’t easy, but I stuck with others or in places where I knew she wouldn’t follow, like the whores’ quarters. Then on the second evening, I was playing ball with a group of young people in the square. Priscilla was there, watching us. Partway through the game, I started hesitating, as if overcome by my thoughts. Finally, I made my excuses and fled. She followed.

  I raced behind the dining hall to a stairway that led to the wall platform. This section was blocked off—it had been unstable for years, and we couldn’t yet retrieve enough material to fix it. I climbed over the barrier and ran up the stairs. At the top, I grabbed the wall and stood there, leaning out.

  “No!” Priscilla shrieked.

  Her dainty boots tapped across the platform as she ran.

  I turned and waved her back frantically. “It’s not safe!”

  She kept coming. “Whatever you’re thinking of, Rayne, don’t do it. Please don’t do it.”

  “Don’t . . . ?” I looked down and stepped back with a wry smile. “It’s twenty feet, Priss. At most, I’d twist my ankle. I wasn’t going to jump.” I took another step from the wall to reassure her. “I was just . . .” I looked out at the setting sun. “Thinking, I guess. Of him. Of what I did.”

  I stared out until she got a little closer, then wheeled and blurted, “I didn’t turn him in. Not on purpose.” I took a deep breath. “Braeden and I. He was . . .”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  I nodded. “One night, we were out together, and he told me that there were werewolves in his family. I—I went a little crazy. We’d been together for years and he’d never said a word, and now he tells me he could turn into a wolf? That we could be alone together, and he could suddenly transform? Kill me? Eat me? He insisted it was no big deal—it might never happen. Might? Might?”

  I stopped and gulped breath.

  Priscilla came over and patted my back. “That must have been terrible.”

  I nodded. “It was. We fought. Really fought. I yelled at him and I think—” Another gulp of air. “I think someone heard. Someone told the regulators.”

  “But not you.”

  I shook my head. “No. But when they came, I didn’t . . . I didn’t stand up for him. I didn’t defend him. I knew it was right—that he needed to be taken. To be tested.”

  Lies. All of it. I’d known about the werewolf blood since Braeden and I became more than friends. I had been the one who’d informed on him—as part of the plan, our plan.

  “I thought—I thought he’d be fine. I told myself that he needed to know for sure. Then . . . when they said it was true—he did transform—I knew there was nothing I could do, nothing I should do. He had to leave. For the sake of everyone, he had to leave.”

  “Of course. A werewolf cannot be allowed—”

  “But he’s not a—” I clamped my hand over my mouth, eyes going wide. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say anything. Just . . . just leave me, Priss. I know you mean well, but I can’t involve you in this.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “Hear?” More feigned terror and horror. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Once again, I let her press, and I pretended to resist until I finally blurted, “They say he didn’t transform. That the prefect lied. I overheard the regulator—the one who was with Braeden—and he said that after the last two accusations, when they didn’t find anything, some of the Six were angry with the prefect. They thought he wasn’t doing his job right. So he . . . he lied.”

  “But if Braeden didn’t transform, he would have said something.”

  “Accuse a prefect of lying? What good would that do? Every accused denies they manifested powers. They’re beaten for the lie, then cast out.” I looked beyond the wall. “I need to get to him.”

  “What?”

  I turned back to her. “I need to get Braeden and bring him back. I could tell what I heard, but they wouldn’t believe me. I need proof. I need Braeden.”

  “You—you—” She sputtered for a minute, unable to find words, then took my arms again. “You’d never find him out there, Rayne.”

  “No, I can. I know where he’d go. We talked about that, in case something ever happened to either of us. Where we’d go. What we’d do. How we’d survive. We had a plan. It made us feel safer.”

  She looked confused.

  “Everyone has a plan, Priss. Everyone who isn’t the Second’s daughter. What they’d do if they were accused of having supernatural blood. If they were accused of a crime. If they were cast out. How they’d kill themselves quickly or how they’d survive. Braeden used to live out there, and he traveled with the voyagers, so he had a good plan. He told me about a spring where I could camp and wait for a tribe to come by, then join them. That’s where he’ll be—until a tribe comes. Which is why I have to go now.”

  “Go?” Again she sputtered. “Go how? You can’t go out there. You’d never survive.”

  “Not alone.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “You—you want me—”

  “No, of course not. I’d never ask anyone to do that. I meant a horse. I could do it with a horse. I just need help—”

  I stopped, and now it was my eyes widening in horror. “I don’t mean—I shouldn’t ask—I’m sorry. I just . . .”

  I turned back to the wall and looked out, pouring every ounce of despair into my expression, imagining Braeden out there, alone, waiting for me, and I never came. That must have done the trick because Priscilla reached for me. I sidestepped, then feigned a stumble and let myself collapse in a heap on the platform, tears starting to stream.

  “I just—I love him so much. He’s the only boy I’ve ever loved. The only one I will ever love.”

  I continued in that vein for a while. It was, in some ways, more of a struggle than the lies. It shouldn’t be, because this part was true, but to pour my heart out in such melodrama felt like a mockery of the truth. I loved Braeden. I wanted to spend my life—any life—with him. But, to me, love isn’t mooning and moaning—it’s taking action to protect the one you love. Deed, not word. Priscilla needed words. She was still very much a child, a princess locked in a tower, dreaming of her prince. She actually did have one—she’d been betrothed to the Third’s son for a decade. But he was still a gangly, pimple-faced youth of thirteen, and she was a pretty young woman noticing all the handsome young men around her, and knowing she couldn’t so much as share a lingering glance with one.

  She might never have read a romantic story, but she yearned for what I had. Or a prettied-up, fantasy version of what I had, in which the young couple wouldn’t set off to a harsh life together in the bleak wasteland, but would ride home, victorious and vindicated, living happily ever after within the safe bos
om of the fortress.

  So she promised to do whatever was in her power to make this dream come true. I argued, of course, but the more I fought, the more resolved she became. She would aid in the cause of truth and true love, whatever the cost. She would be brave, too.

  Finally I agreed, on one condition.

  “You must tell them I tricked you,” I said.

  “Tricked me?”

  I nodded. “I set you up. I used you. You considered me a friend, and I abused your trust and tricked you into helping me escape with a horse. Then they cannot punish you.”

  “But then I won’t seem brave; I’ll seem a fool.”

  I took her hands. “Don’t think of that. Remember that this might not work. I might be killed. Braeden might have already been killed. Even if we return, they might not permit him to stay.”

  “They will. I know they will. I heard Father telling the First how sorry he was to lose Braeden. He was strong and healthy and already a skilled blacksmith, and now another will need to be trained, and the smith is an old man. That prefect is old, too, and it is not the first time he has given my father reason to doubt his loyalty. They will exile the prefect and welcome Braeden back, and hail you as a hero.” Her eyes clouded. “But I will be seen as a fool.”

  I told her we’d work that out, that I’d be sure to give her credit when I returned—if I returned. She wasn’t happy, but she saw my point, and turned instead to excitedly planning my trip, as if I were heading off on some grand adventure.

  I was leaving that night. When I told Priscilla, I panicked her a little, and I began to think I’d miscalculated, but when I said I had my bag ready, she agreed tonight was best. And it was—not giving her time to rethink everything I’d said and realize that, as stories went, it was rather ludicrous: “I think my boyfriend was wrongly accused, so I’m going to ride to near-certain death to bring him back, and hope the Six will believe a blacksmith and a whore over a prefect and a regulator.” But it was heroic and it was romantic, and that was all that mattered, so long as I didn’t give her too much time to ponder it.

  Getting the horses was easy. They weren’t guarded—the penalty for disturbing one was exile, and you couldn’t exactly ride through the fortress without anyone noticing. Or you couldn’t unless you were the Second’s daughter, in which case they’d notice but wouldn’t dare stop you. The Six and their families were allowed to exercise the horses between their rare forays into the Outside. So too were the blacksmiths, which was how I’d learned to ride.

  When Priscilla arrived at the stables, I was filling the saddlebags with goods Braeden and I had been saving for weeks. She’d brought more—as much as I had two times over, all gathered easily in the space of an hour or two.

  We each selected a mount. If anyone challenged us, she would say she was treating her friend to a midnight ride, as was her prerogative.

  We headed along the lane of shuttered homes to the gates. The main gates were enclosed in a courtyard, for added security from the Outside. The gates into the courtyard were simply latched. Not much need for added security from our side—no one in their right mind would sneak through.

  I unlatched the gate, and Priscilla rode through first. I followed and closed it behind us. The gate guard noticed, of course, and started down from his post. Priscilla swung off her mount and raced up the stairs to meet him, breathless, as if she’d run the whole way. I moved my horse into position alongside the main gate, where I could reach the locks.

  “Father needs you,” Priscilla panted. “He needs every regulator he can find. It’s—it’s—”

  The guard made her slow down. As he focused on her, I began undoing the locks.

  “It’s the regulator who guarded Braeden Smith,” Priscilla said. “The werewolf bit him and he didn’t tell anyone and now he’s transforming and Father needs help—”

  The regulator started down the steps again, faster now, then stopped. “The gate—”

  “Father is sending someone. He says not to wait.”

  As the regulator raced down, I stopped working on the locks and moved the horse in front of them. He cast a quick glance my way, but didn’t pause when he saw me. Everyone in the fortress knew I was the new pet of the Second’s daughter. He didn’t question Priscilla’s words. Why would anyone lure him from him post? No one ever left the fortress. No one ever tried to sneak someone in—the fortress was not large enough to hide a stranger. So he saw me, gave a curt nod, and hurried off.

  “Quickly!” Priscilla said as soon as he was gone. “The patrol will come soon.”

  I’d timed the patrols of the night guard and knew we had only a few moments before one reached the gate.

  I was on the last lock when I heard the thump of boots.

  “Hurry!” Priscilla breathed.

  I resisted the urge to glower at her and tugged at the lock. It was sticking. It’d been the first I’d tried to undo, but when it didn’t come easily, I’d moved on and now I was back to it, and it hadn’t magically popped open in the interim.

  I yanked at it as Priscilla urged me to hurry and the guard’s boots came ever closer until—

  It came free. By the time it did, my hands were shaking so badly, I could barely grab the rope to pull the door open. I fumbled, then caught it and yanked. It barely budged. Priscilla rode over and took the end from me, and I held the middle and we pulled.

  The gate swung open.

  “Go!” Priscilla whispered.

  I wasted only a moment to whisper back a thank-you. Then I rode, heels knocking my horse’s flanks to spur her ever faster. I listened for the shouts of the guard or a shot from the gun, but none came. He’d still been too far away. I kept straining, but all I could hear was the thunder of hooves. Then, as I passed the first outcropping of rock, a dark shape leaped out. I passed it easily, but as I did, I heard a shriek from behind me, and turned to see Priscilla on her horse, fifty feet back.

  I spurred my horse around. Another dark shape raced on all fours across the baked earth. I caught a glimpse of fur and fangs as my horse passed it, and I circled back to Priscilla.

  “Ride!” I shouted. “Just ride!”

  The first hybrid snarled up at me, and I could see it now, a hairless, naked bearlike thing with tiny eyes and claws as long as my fingers.

  I pulled something from my pocket. A hunk of dried meat, put there for just such a purpose, as Braeden had advised. I held it out. The hybrid lunged for it. I spurred my horse, meat still held out, leading the beast away from Priscilla. Then I threw the meat and jammed my heels into the horse’s sides. She didn’t need the encouragement—the moment I gave her rein, she was off, following Priscilla’s horse across the wasteland.

  I didn’t stop riding until I reached the first waypoint. When Braeden and I had planned our escape, he’d mapped out every step of it for me. The first waypoint was a large outcropping of rock five miles from the fortress.

  “Don’t stop until you reach it,” he’d said. “If you do, the hybrids will come out.”

  So I couldn’t pause long enough to say anything to Priscilla, let alone try to send her back. We rode until I saw the outcropping, then veered toward it, my horse breathing hard now, sweat rippling down her neck.

  “Leave the horse outside,” Braeden had said. “She’s been trained to defend herself. The hybrids will eventually work themselves up to attacking, but you’ll both have time to rest.”

  I did as he’d instructed. Priscilla stayed mounted, waiting for me to speak. I ignored her, filled the horse’s water bag, and headed into the cave-like outcropping. It was dark, but I could see a pile of brush at the mouth. Dried brush. Left for me. When I saw that, I let out a sigh of relief so hard it was more of a sob. I quickly lit the fire, then hurried into the cave. There, on the wall, he’d written with a flint rock: “Be safe.” I smiled, struggling not to choke again, then quickly wiped the note off as Priscilla approached the fire at the cave’s mouth.

  “Rayne?” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. br />
  “Get in here,” I said. “Past the fire. Before you attract a hybrid.”

  “I—”

  “Did you water your horse? Did you even bring water?”

  “I—I did.”

  “Had it all planned then, did you?” I glowered at her as she carefully stepped around the tiny blaze. “Because, really, this wasn’t going to be difficult enough for me. Now I have the Second’s daughter to look after. What did you think you were doing?”

  “Helping. You can’t do this alone. Even you said—”

  “If you’re saying I asked—or even hinted—”

  “No, you didn’t, but it was the right thing to do.” Her chin shot up. “I wasn’t going to stay behind and pretend you tricked me. I’m tired of being treated like a fool. I can be brave, too. I just never get the chance. This is my chance.”

  I argued, but there was little to be done. She couldn’t go back now.

  “Have a drink,” I said. “We can’t stay here long. Now that I have the Second’s daughter with me plus two horses, they’ll have a search team out already.”

  “I . . . I didn’t think about that.”

  I grumbled and scowled. Yes, they’d come looking, but the ground was baked hard, no tracks left behind, and it was hours until daylight. The fortress had no experience tracking people in the Outside. For a horse, they’d come. For two horses and the Second’s daughter, they’d definitely come. But they’d be ill-equipped for the task. As long as we kept moving, we’d be fine. As for the part where Priscilla thought we were “rescuing” Braeden and bringing him home? That could be dealt with later.

  We stopped at two more posts that night. As long as it was dark, we had to keep the horses moving fast, which meant they needed regular breaks with water. Braeden had planned for that. I found his messages at the next two posts, telling me he’d gotten at least that far. As for the rest . . . ?

  At dawn I let the horses slow. Daylight would not keep all hybrids away, but now I could see them coming and kick the horses to a gallop.