Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia

by Jennifer Arntson

  Dedicated to

  Teresa and Gerry

  Family is who you choose

  Chapter 1

  I spent two days and two sleepless nights spinning the borrowed wedding band around my finger. Sharing myself with my husband distracted me temporarily from the jewelry’s weight, but as soon as Calish’s body relaxed from the effort and release, the ring’s presence returned.

  It was a bit too big for my finger, so I kept my hand curled to make it stay put. It had been given to me, but it didn’t belong to me. The simple golden band, worn and chipped around the edges, showed the years of another couple’s devotion. The aged but not tarnished symbol of someone else’s love sat prisoner on my hand. My Lover’s Discovery, as wonderful as it had been, was overshadowed by this stolen memento.

  Lying on my back, Calish’s arm casually draped across my abdomen, I took the ring off and rotated it. The band occasionally caught the light of the sunrise peeking through the crack of the drapes. The flash of life in the reflection made me smile. The love of the ring held power. Because I possessed it, the power would never be anything other than one to cause sorrow.

  My husband’s face lay half buried in a crisp white pillow, the expression of contentment and love evident in the pinkish-brown shade his cheeks had assumed after days of digging in the turned soil of the valley. His light brown, almost blond stubble covered the curve of his jaw and filled in fuller over his chin.

  “Perhaps I should let it grow,” he had said earlier.

  Cupping his cheek in my hand, I wrinkled my nose. “I think it’s too prickly.”

  He rolled me over until he was on top, careful not to let his weight bear fully down. Nibbling on my earlobe while his face tickled mine, he whispered, “Think of it this way, you’ll always know where my face is on your body.” He kissed my neck and descended farther beneath the covers.

  His lips traveled across my flesh, working themselves around my belly button and then lower. Assuming their destination, I grabbed his ears and pulled him up toward my chest.

  With doe eyes, he accepted my objection. “Fine. I’ll shave.”

  I may not ever understand why a man would continually exhaust himself in such a way, but over the last couple of days, that was all we seemed to strive for. Eating, sharing, and sleeping devoured our days and nights. While he slept, I twisted the ring around my thieving finger.

  This ends today.

  The shadow of the ring prevented me from the rest that Calish’s appetite required. Not wanting to discuss it, I never confessed my feelings about it to him. I knew what needed to happen, and whatever opinion he had would not change it. My mind had already been made, so I waited patiently for the opportunity to carry out my plan. While it may seem like a good luck charm to some, I certainly didn’t consider its value as such to me. There were some things that should never be borrowed, and this was a prime example.

  Calish shifted and, in doing so, brought his arm off my body to tuck it under his pillow. I waited, expecting his eyes to flutter open with new desire. He nuzzled into a more comfortable place, and after two silent breaths, muffled snores escaped his parted lips.

  I inched out of the massive bed and slipped on the robe from the hook beside the washroom door. I felt around in the pockets for the silver chain I hid in there the day before while making my private plans. Clasping the doorknob, I reconfirmed Calish still slept. The snores stopped, but the slow rhythmic breathing meant he hadn’t woken yet. I was sure he wouldn’t object to my plan, but I wanted to do this alone. If I were the servant who offered the ring, I’d rather its return be discreet, not a production involving the lord of the house. If he did object…well, even more reason to do it without him awake.

  Tiptoeing out of the room, I carefully latched the bedroom door. I took a moment to thread the necklace through the ring before tucking it back inside my pocket for safekeeping. The hallway waited, empty, ready with its plush carpet to mask my movements. Peeking around the far corner, over the polished railing of the balcony, I saw the room below was vacant. Walking lightly and purposefully, I crept down the stairs, through the entry parlor, and around into the dining room.

  The table, still full of food from days before, seemed as if no one had touched it at all. Perhaps the guests who attended our wedding thought the display too beautiful to disturb, or their guilt and grief prevented their indulgence. Still, I wondered why so much remained. Unable to resist, I took a pastry from a tiered plate to settle my growling stomach. As I had expected, the servants were already in the kitchen, preparing for the day ahead. When the man noticed me, he whistled sharply. The two women glanced back and panicked. The younger woman pulled her hands from the water-filled sink to frantically dry them with her apron, while the other, the one who gave the ring, dropped her knife on the cutting block to get in line with her coworkers. Together, they minded their posture, creating a wall hiding the working mess in the kitchen behind them.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you,” I mumbled, careful not to spray them with drooly pastry. I instinctively put my hand to my mouth to shield them. We may have been raised as Scavengers, but I knew my manners, not that I did a decent job proving it. Embarrassed, I swallowed too fast. The wad lodged in the wrong part of my throat, and I started to choke. Coughing, I turned, desperate to find the water pitcher. The dishwashing servant outmaneuvered me and gave swift aid. She offered me the glass, keeping her eyes diverted toward the floor.

  I hacked, even after the first few sips, and water ran down my chin and onto the carpet. She handed me a napkin, and with a scratched voice, I croaked my gratitude.

  She stepped back into line, her hands folded at her waist, as the others did to her right and left.

  “You hosted a lovely party the other night,” I complimented them, unsure what to do with my soiled napkin. Still, they stared at my feet and said nothing.

  I looked down at my toes nervously. What were they looking at? My feet were clean. I stepped to the side, assuming I stood somewhere I shouldn’t be, yet their eyes stayed fixed at the floor beneath me. I checked my feet again. Nothing.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, but they didn’t respond.

  The situation dissolved from awkward to downright uncomfortable. They felt it as much as I did, I was sure.

  Am I still a Scavenger to be ignored?

  How could I forget my status so quickly? I set the napkin on the table and apologized. My shoulders fell and squeezed together in a delayed effort to minimize my stature.

  They are Citizens, and I am a Reclaimer.

  I had no right to address them; of course, they would ignore me. They didn’t hide a mess, they stood to protect the perishables.

  I retreated, making sure to apologize loud enough for them to hear, though my breath had abandoned me. They stared at the floor as I did.

  Evidently, my short time at the Resistance changed me. When did I become so comfortable talking with people I didn’t know? Their silence proved I was no more welcome among them than before the slide. Would they have me hanged for addressing a Citizen?

  Would they hang Calish, too?

  My gods, what have I done?

  Father warned me to stay clear of the valley unless claiming. Over the last season, I’d traveled recklessly and ignored the years of training my parents gave. The Resistance worked within the walls of their community, nowhere else.

  Foolish, foolish child!

  I could outrun the servants if I tried. Their ridiculous shoes would handicap any effort to chase after me. What about the guards, though? Would I make it through the gate? Probably not. Fighting back tears, I clutched the oversized band resting in my pocket, regretting my decision to come down
stairs alone.

  A familiar hand on the small of my back startled me. “Why did you leave?” Calish yawned.

  Grateful to be rescued, I brought forth the ring, still hanging on the chain. “I wanted to return this.”

  He smiled and kissed my temple. “Of course, you did,” he said, taking it from me. “I believe this is yours, Qarla. Thank you for lending it to me. It played a special role.”

  The woman shook her head. “It’s the Lady’s now, my Lord.”

  She didn’t acknowledge me at all, yet now she calls me a lady?

  “It’s my pleasure and honor to give it to you both. I swear, my Lord, I would never ask it to be returned.”

  “The thought never occurred to me.” Calish took her hand, placing it in her palm before closing her fingers around it. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to introduce you to my wife, Una. Una, this is the house staff.”

  The two women and man bowed in reply.

  I bowed back, relieved to be recognized in such a way that didn’t suggest I’d be executed shortly thereafter. Calish straightened me up, leaving his arm around my back while resting his hand on my shoulder. His expression didn’t feel loving but rigid as if keeping me still.

  Am I not supposed to bow?

  Uneasy with his masked restraint, I shifted away from his hold. Calish eyed me a warning as if I’d already overstepped my allowance. I rejected his effort and turned to the middle-aged servant. “I put it on the necklace, so you might still wear it without drawing any unwanted attention.”

  The three of them glanced at each other. “As you wish, my Lord.” She nodded.

  My Lord? I brought the ring back to her, not him. I added the chain to keep her ownership of the band discreet. Why acknowledge Calish for my actions?

  “Have I done something wrong?” I asked softly.

  “You’ll have to excuse my wife, she’s new to this.” He rubbed my back and explained, “It’s disrespectful to me if they are casual with you.”

  “How ridiculous,” I quipped, stepping away from his reach. “We all live under the same roof, yet we’re not allowed to speak to each other?”

  Calish laughed, taking my hand instead, obviously amused by my confusion. “Una, first, they don’t reside here. Second, you can address them whenever you please. It’s improper for them to talk to the lady of the house.”

  “Wait, you three don’t live here?”

  “Here we go,” Calish dropped my hand. The staff remained silent.

  Already forgetting the social rules, I asked the servants, “Where do you live?”

  My husband, the lord of the estate, answered on their behalf. “Elsewhere. They have a place outside the gates.”

  “In the shacks leaning against each other in the mud?” I clarified.

  “In town; yes.”

  “Is that what you call it? My gods, Calish, have you seen what’s out there? Why aren’t they staying here in this house?” When he didn’t answer quickly enough, I repeated the question to the servants. “Why don’t you stay here?”

  The man spoke, “There’s not enough room for us here, sir.”

  “Not enough…? You’re insane! This house is large enough for ten families!” I threw my arms out wide. “And for the sake of the gods, answer me, not him.”

  Calish took my arm firmly and less discreetly than his attempt to guide me in the moments before. “You’ve returned the ring. Now we’re done.”

  I yanked free from his grip and glared at him. “Please remember, sir, I am your wife,” I said, clenching my teeth in a forced smile. While we had enjoyed our uninterrupted time together, our former lives had never given either of us the privilege of lying idly for more than an hour at best. Evidently, our restlessness presented itself all at once.

  I refused to move until I felt like doing so. We began to quarrel, and it quickly progressed to a full-fledged dispute. Since we had an audience, we tried to argue politely, but the attempt didn’t last. Calish continued in a hushed but abrasive tone, and mine grew increasingly loud and sharp. My palms moistened as my fingernails dug into them. The muscles in my legs pulsed as if ready to lunge at him to end the discussion with violence. I felt the wolf spirit stir like a caged beast, and I fought myself more than I fought Calish. I warned him to shut up, but I doubt he heard me. By that point, we had stopped listening. Our argument ran over the other’s noise until my husband gave up on winning. He couldn’t drag me away from the kitchen against my will. He tried. I wouldn’t let him.

  He won’t fight me with anything other than words. Wimp.

  When my appeals to open our home for the staff failed, I dug at him personally. Marsh would have been proud. I taunted him. I don’t know why. Something about it felt good. Perhaps it was because I could see Calish’s face turn from anger to embarrassment.

  Yes. You don’t like that, do you?

  You will lose this fight, my Lord.

  I poked his chest, and he stepped back. He ordered me to shut up, and when I wouldn’t, he did something I never expected from him. With fury pouring from his pores, he tossed me over his shoulder to carry me away from his staff. My tongue instinctively felt the pointed tips of my canine teeth, and I looked for a place to sink them in his flesh. I clenched my eyes shut to control the urge.

  What’s happening to me?

  I buried the wolf deep inside my soul to reclaim my wits as my husband carried me away. Sobering quickly, I yelled to the servants, “I give you permission to speak to me whenever you wish!”

  I kicked and squirmed, but his hold held strong. As soon as we were out of their sight, he dropped me on my feet. He grabbed ahold of my face and spoke so closely, I felt the heat from his breath on my skin. “Stop it!” he seethed.

  I snatched my chin away from him and took a more reasonable tone. “It’s not right, Calish. Those people in there have a higher birthright than I do.”

  “Not anymore.” He pushed me up the stairs.

  Every time I tried to speak, he roared, “Silence!” Pressing my lips together, I stomped down the ridiculously long hallway toward our room. His room. If I slowed, he nudged me forward. I’d never seen him so angry. I’ll admit, I didn’t understand Citizen life, but I most certainly didn’t understand whatever this was.

  Once inside the master suite, I asked, “How can you, of all people, be accepting of any of this?”

  Calish glanced down the hall before closing the door behind us. Still smoldering, but at a controlled volume, he said, “I’m not, Una. What you have to understand is this is what they deem as acceptable. Everyone out there, like Reinick and Noran, hold to the standard of class. This is their world. They make the rules. We can’t go around just breaking them!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if we do, we’ll be labeled as anarchists and cast out, or worse. You saw what they did to Hawk and his wife! If we start making waves and end up dead, what good is that?”

  How could Calish have so much power and yet do nothing? With so many homeless, starving, and orphaned people out there, why couldn’t he at least help the ones working in his house? “I know you took Reinick’s offer to protect me and the baby—”

  “And that’s what I’m doing!” he shouted. “But if you are not going to act appropriately, it won’t matter what I do, Una. There are rules for Citizens, just like there are rules for Scavengers. They don’t care if you know them or not, you are expected to follow them. If you don’t, there will be unimaginable consequences. You can’t be rebellious and be married to the Junior Lord. You cannot behave the way you did with the servants. You mustn’t challenge me in their presence! And I swear, if you ever insult me like you did, I’ll—” He turned his back to me and paused.

  You’ll what?

  He ran his hand through his hair before resting his hands on his hips. When he regained control of himself, he turned. His face, full of regret, admitted defeat. “The only way I can truly protect you is here in this neighborhood, guarded by the Authority. I don’t car
e how much you hate them. We need them.”

  He was so wrong, but I knew no way to convince him otherwise. We could leave, go to the Resistance or just disappear into the masses and become a refugee like everyone else. We’d survive. I knew we would. Still, I couldn’t help but hope Calish’s position would end up benefiting more than me and our unborn child.

  With his rant over, he straightened the blankets at the foot of the bed and sat, obviously troubled by his own thoughts.

  “We’re not the ones who need protecting, Calish. Not anymore. Who’s going to protect the people out there?”

  “I’m trying.” I heard the exhaustion in his reply. He reached out for me, and I came to him. “It’ll be easier to focus on their needs, now that I’ve accomplished my first task.” He slid his fingers across my arm where it showed evidence of his earlier grip.

  “Your first task?”

  “Keeping Blue from you.” He laid his palms upon my abdomen. “I’ll admit, it worked out better than I expected.”

  “Calish, what am I supposed to do here all day? We have one more day together, then you’ll be off working, and I’ll be left here with the servants. They can’t talk to me. What do you expect me to do?”

  “I’m sure you’ll have your hands full soon enough.” His thumbs caressed my belly. “I know it’s a big change, but you’ll get better at it. It took me a while, too. Most days I feel like an imposter, someone who doesn’t belong here, but then I think about why I’m here.”

  He knew I wasn’t satisfied with his answer. He shook his head and sighed. “Fine, I’ll speak with the servants.”

  “Do you think they’ll talk to me like a real person?”

  “I’m sure this won’t be the first time they’ve been asked to do unlawful things. This is the Authority, after all.”

  Perhaps a woman’s role was to be a supportive wife. It’s not as if I’d been handed anything; ours was not an arranged marriage set up for a privileged Citizen girl with a celebrated crimson sash. I had scars and nightmares reminding us of our journey. No one would consider ours an easy path. My parents had spent years cultivating arrangements to keep me from being sold at Womanhood. Their plan took years of planning, patience, and hope. Although their efforts failed, the results were a blessing beyond expectation.