by J D Morganne
The soldier was right. Beck wasn’t in there. Or her bathroom. Or closet. But an unusual armoire sat at the far-right wall. Roots slithered in from an ajar window, wrapped her fan like a bug in a web, attached to the armoire and spindled across the floor into the hall.
“Beck?” Jaxon swallowed nerves. Knocked. “You’re in there, right?”
The armoire door opened with a croak. Beck stretched her arm from the darkness, but a bang of thunder outside made her squeal. She stomped and the door flew shut as Jaxon reached for her.
He snatched his fingers away. “Mother Earth! You wanna take my hand off? What’re you doing in there?” The violent storm kept taking his focus off the armoire and Beck’s words tapped at the back of his mind. We pray to keep the storms away. He snatched the armoire open. “You’re scared of storms?” Beck didn’t shoot an inappropriate response at him like normal, so Jaxon wiped the humor from his face, too. “Can I come in?”
She nodded.
He climbed inside and pushed his knees up to his chest, though there was already plenty of room. He shut the door after him. He couldn’t see her face, but she sniffled in the dark. It made him nervous to hear her that way. She was the most powerful woman he had met. He hadn’t stopped to consider she had fears like everyone else. “Is it the noise?”
She said nothing. She didn’t need to explain. Jaxon sat in silence with her, until her sniffling stopped.
“The thunder,” she said, her voice feeble.
If Naomi had told him such a secret, he would’ve laughed and called her a big baby. Aria, he would’ve joked with. Beck… hell, he didn’t know what to do.
“In the Wars, the storm was so loud we couldn’t tell the difference between the bombs and the thunder.” Beck had told him stories about the Wars. She’d been five during the first one, the one where she’d lost her mom. “Anga and me… we hid… I hid for days afterward. Like a child.”
“Weren’t you a child?”
Beck said nothing, but something brushed Jaxon’s arm that felt like her hand, gone in an instant.
“Not a kid now… and look at me. I’m hiding in a self-made armoire for protection… from thunder? Like it’ll strike me.” She laughed at herself, but the thunder boomed outside as if scolding her. “I pretend not to be afraid, but...”
“Everyone has fears.”
“What’re yours then?”
Jaxon thought about all the things that could hurt him. He was afraid of Farah hurting the people he cared about. Of waking up one day and finding his mother hanging from a cross. What scared him more than that was, “Being alone. I guess.”
“You? Nah.”
“I can’t see you. Let’s get out.” Jaxon reached for the door.
“No.” Beck snatched his hand, not ready to turn that stone over.
He sat back. “Are you okay?” he asked after a while. He couldn’t see the damage Cayman had done, but he heard it in the tears she kept swallowing.
“I’m fine, Robot. You?”
“Sort of.” There was more silence between them, and Jaxon was beginning to think she didn’t want him there. Either that, or his conversational skills sucked.
“I’ve never seen the koloberry rot so fast.”
Jaxon didn’t want to talk about that. He couldn’t forget that piece of fruit turning to powder when he touched it. The same way he couldn’t forget Beck calling him her enemy.
“You’re stronger than I thought.”
It was weird talking to her without seeing her. “I want to see you,” Jaxon tried again.
It took another minute before she opened the armoire door, but she didn’t get out. Jaxon looked into her bloodshot eyes. He thought about all the people who’d damaged her, all the people who’d damaged him, all the years blocking his pain, suppressing it as if it had never been there. A pain so deep-rooted that it was home. He thought about the things he’d be willing to sacrifice to take Beck’s pain away.
She was right. The thunder was like war in the sky.
Jaxon knew he would fail, but he tried his corny attempt at easing her. “Lightning is the one who splits the sky open. Air heating and cooling. You’re scared of the wrong brother.”
Beck laughed through sniffles and more face-wiping. Then, as if her laugh was what it had been waiting for, the rain slowed, leaving soft drizzling in its place. Jaxon climbed out and went to the window. When Beck didn’t follow, he was overcome by an urge to make her feel safe.
When she sang, she glowed, Jaxon remembered. He couldn’t sing and wouldn’t embarrass himself trying, but he knew music would bring her comfort. With his celrings, he could tap on anything she wanted to hear, find a voice that made the thunder innocuous. But his rings didn’t work. He scanned the room for anything that made noise. He could improvise the rest.
Of course! he thought, resting his eyes on the piano. Immaculate. He made his way to it, ran his fingers along the glossy edge, over the top and the keys. In Obedience, he had hidden away for hours, circumventing the staleness of mundanity. Violin. Harp. Shamisen. Ukulele. And Piano. The piano was his favorite, but he was rusty.
He sat, explored the unsullied keys, wondered if he should meddle with them now. He wondered if this piano belonged to someone important, the reason Beck kept it clean. He pressed with care, c-sharp minor conjuring memories of his youth. Perfect. He would play Beethoven. Moonlight Sonata III, presto agitato.
As he played, Beck peeked out of her armoire. Two minutes in, she climbed out, forcing the roots back to where they’d come. They slithered under Jaxon’s legs and retreated out the window. Beck closed and locked her window and yanked the curtains shut. She sat beside Jaxon, fixating her gaze on his fingers.
He let the music steal him. He let it transport him to memories of recital duels between Naomi—who could play faster, who had the least mistakes. Each stroke took him to the gentleness of his father’s lessons, turned aggressive at the slip of a note.
Anger, hatred, anguish, despair—all feelings swirling in Jaxon’s chest, as if waiting their turn for release. It wasn’t fair. Driven from his home, his mom. Beaten. Over a fucking lie.
He pounded, fingers cramping, an old sensation, a returning pain. That’s what Obedience was. Pain. A land of corruption and lies. Naomi had tried to speak her truth, but in the end, she had done nothing to stop them. In the end, Farah had sentenced him for her own hatred, for Naomi’s crime, for Dasher’s gullibility. Everything Jaxon had known, had loved, had owned… erased in a flash.
“Jaxon.” Beck put her hand on his arm, breaking the sonata in the height of its excitement.
He’d started playing to cheer her up, but ended up breathless, lost in his own head. “I’m…” He pulled his hands away and stood. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That was… incredible. Who taught you that?”
“My dad.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Jaxon nodded a thanks. He had gotten her out of that armoire. Wasn’t a complete failure.
“My ma used to play, but I never learned.”
Jaxon would teach her when everything was calm. When her dad was gone. When she didn’t have to look over her shoulder to leave her bedroom. He would visit and teach her.
“He’s gonna try to kill me again,” Beck said, as if reading Jaxon’s mind. “Gotta retaliate.”
“You’re hurt,” Jaxon reminded her.
After a while, she stood up and doddered to her bed. She lay down and pulled her blanket over her. “There’s a war in me, kid. My pieces are taped together. I don’t feel a thing.”
Numbness was a familiar feeling to Jaxon, too. “I’m leaving.”
“I know,” Beck said, barely a whisper. “But after Ulai, and after we send Cayman a message.”
“You can’t do that. You’re not in enough pain?”
“I gotta retaliate.”
“I meant dance.”
“I’ll find a volunteer for that. Either way, I’m not letting Cayman scare me into not fulfilling my dut
ies as Emiir. He keeps making me look weak. Tries to kill me.” She swallowed hard and brushed away the tears that rolled onto her pillow. “It’s so cliché.” She tried but couldn’t keep the tears out of her voice. She sniffled to no avail and used her sleeve to wipe away her snot. “We learned to live like this. There’s a war in you too.”
Her words were an epiphanic band-aid, stinging as it ripped off. Their experiences were different, but they both knew pain. “I’ve no doubt.”
“Where will you go?”
Jaxon shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. His few possibilities were as perilous as the road he traveled now. “I dunno. I’ll be a vagabond.” He said it with a laugh and an irresolute shrug.
“Well, we’ll figure that out first. In the meantime, I’m sending the whole Den to Cayman’s doormat.” Beck closed her eyes again, the day’s exhaustion finally taking a toll.
Jaxon contemplated staying or going. He had sent her guard away, and he was a Lion now. It was his duty to protect her. He wanted to, but he’d proven he couldn’t even protect himself. And he didn’t know how he’d feel if anything happened to her.
He yawned and sat with his back against the door. He was tired, but he wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to understand how she could remain impervious to constant suffering. He wanted to understand her.
31
A soft knock startled Beck awake. She opened her eyes wide, her heart thumping, her head catching up with time.
“Thanks,” Jaxon said, to whoever was on the other side of the door. He closed the door and walked the tray of orange juice and cups to the desk that held a black and golden globe.
Beck’s gaze followed two gray squirrels chattering in the tree outside her window. The mountains glistened like glass against the morning sunlight. Plummeting temperatures had frozen the rain and icicle branches tapped her window.
Cayman would’ve killed her if Eshauna and the Lions hadn’t shown up. As much as she tried, she couldn’t shake how convenient it felt. Eshauna had been gunning for Beck’s position since before she could talk. Was Beck wrong to assume she would feign concern to keep people from thinking she was involved in the attack? When she had come to Beck, begging for solace from their misogynistic father, Beck had opened her home. She had welcomed Eshauna the same way she had Jaxon. Why did she trust Jaxon more?
She sat back and studied the strands of Jaxon’s hair sticking to his parted lips, as he strolled across the room to the window. He was different, wasn’t he? When she’d awakened and saw him standing there, her relief had startled her. “Robot, on,” she said. “Robot, respond.”
“Shut it.” Jaxon laughed, turning away from the window. “How’d you sleep?” He poured a glass of orange juice and presented it to her.
Beck took it with one hand, put her thumb up with her other. “Did you sleep?”
“Why would I?”
One gulp of orange juice and Beck’s raw throat burned. Uncontrollable coughs broke up their conversation. Jaxon started for her but retreated when her coughing seized. She swallowed hard and set the glass on the table beside her bed. “It’s snowing.”
Jaxon looked over his shoulder and gaped at chunky snowflakes falling from the sky.
“Help me up. Let’s go out.”
He stretched out his hand and helped Beck steady herself on her feet. She took a step forward, but a spasm shot through her side. She snatched Jaxon’s arm, crumbling inward. “Mo-ther fuhhh…”
“Look, sit down. I’ll get it. What do you need?” He picked her up with ease and set her on her bed, before swooping around and heading to her closet. “A coat? Which one?”
Beck couldn’t think beyond him gripping her thighs and picking her up with ease. “Um… it doesn’t matter,” she staggered. “Any–any one.”
Jaxon grabbed a furry coat—one she’d wear over her armor—and brought it back to her. He wrapped it over her shoulders, picked her up again and carried her outside onto her balcony. He set her on a low bench.
“You deserve a cookie,” Beck said, thinking he deserved more than that. “Thank you.”
“Ah wow.” Jaxon patted the snow on the branches that hovered over the balcony.
“Go put on a coat,” Beck said.
“I’m not that cold.”
For the next few minutes, she watched him, enamored by his fascination with something as trivial as snow. His presence never failed to remind her of her childhood—when she could stomach the chloramine scent of fresh snow, while making snow angels.
Jaxon sniffled and rubbed his red-tipped nose. “Is it true every snowflake is different?”
“Yep,” Beck said. “If they’re big enough to see.”
Cayman thought Jaxon was an evil person. She remembered how a koloberry dissolved in his hands, but he didn’t have a malevolent bone in his body. If Jaxon wanted to burn her tree, why wouldn’t he have done it already? Jerus had taken close to a year of his life. He’d had time and freedom.
Beck brought her glass to her lips, formulating the plan in her head before she told him. “There’re grids beyond Mt. Garrida.”
Jaxon said nothing, but turned to face her.
“There’s a lab in a village there. They evacuated and restricted it with the tech ban. Despite petty beliefs, I never banned tech. My ma did.” And she was dead because of it. “Anyway, there’s a lab there that’ll help get the grids on.”
“I know.”
Beck smirked. Nano talked too much. “The tunnels will go online once the grids’re up.” She nodded at his celrings at the same time he checked to make sure they were there.
Jaxon curved his lips, forming a smile, but it vanished as soon as it came. He furrowed his brow like he was trying to interpret another language. “I can contact Obedience?”
“Don’t know.” She thought about it, but an answer never came. “Cayman has Zoey. I even considered using you to get’em back. But you’re not my enemy. And I don’t know what he’s done to Zo, but I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“Must be powerful.”
“Cayman’s a punk with”—
“I meant Zo.”
“Oh. Yeah. Power like yours and Zo’s...” She waited for him to ask how much power Zo had, but he didn’t. “He loves that. He’s made a deal… with your leaders. They wanna take Knowledge, not just Jerus. And… like Enkindlers… they wanna take our control first. No offense.”
“None taken,” though he drew his eyebrows in offense. He had been Obedient once, but his claim to his nationality weakened with the first bite he’d taken. To Beck, he was more Earthen than Obedient. She felt wrong for thinking it and wondered if he felt the same, like he was betraying his people in some way.
Bitter wind stung her eyes. She shouldered away the tears and went inside. “Technology is important to Cayman.” She led Jaxon to her door. “He’s willing to trade millions of lives for it. Take Nano and Eshauna.”
“Why Eshauna?”
“She’ll secure things. She’s Emiir-Te.” When he blinked fast, in his curious and confused way, Beck explained. “If something were to happen to me, she’d take my place.”
“But… Nano”— Jaxon tried.
“Only women can lead Jerus.”
“I thought Cayman was an Emiir.”
“Cayman can make whatever rules he wants for Alasta. In Jerus, women lead.” Jaxon didn’t say another word and Beck feared her aggression might’ve turned him off. Surprising herself, she didn’t want that. She wanted his attention for her own selfish reasons. “Um.” She gulped her orange juice. “I want you to watch her for me. She’s a snake, like her dad.”
“How do you know?”
“I mean—I don’t know. But I read well.” She managed a soft smile. She liked to think she was reading him well. She liked to think she was mature enough not to act on blind emotion. “She’s sneaky. She tries to befriend my friends to get info.”
“Why do you keep her around?”
“Enemies close,”
Beck said, slapping his cheek. “Eshauna will look after you and you”—
“Will look after her,” Jaxon said.
“Good boy.” She stepped aside, but he didn’t move. “What? Go.”
“You’re using me. I’m allowing it. You mentioned something about cookies?” He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand. “Payment for my services?”
“I don’t have cookies.”
“Then… why would you say you did?”
“I didn’t,” Beck said, laughing and shoving him out the door. “Get. Out. Go get some sleep.”
“W-wait, hold on.” He stopped his foot in the door. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you. I like your hair.”
Beck squinted. She’d sat in front of her mirror straightening her hair for hours, only to have Cayman undo all her work. After washing dirt and blood from it, she’d shoved every tangled curl into a ponytail.
“Loving sunrise, Beck.” He walked off before she pried open her bolted lips to thank him.
The thought of him getting that grid online and activating the tunnels made her anxious. She was afraid of what it meant for Jerus. The fight over that tech had killed her mother. She could be making the biggest mistake of her life. But she had to do something. She had to prove to her people that she was capable of making better decisions. She had to prove that she would do anything to keep them safe. Even if that meant Jaxon had to leave. Even if that meant she had to surrender him to Cayman. Even if that meant… killing Jaxon herself.
She would prove her strength to them and herself.
32
Jaxon packed food, medical supplies and his books. On their way to Mt. Garrida, he watched his feet contact the ground to avoid staring at Beck.
She sighed, softly. “There and back.”
Jaxon agreed. He went over it again in his head. Get to the village. Find the lab. Power the grids. Watch Eshauna. Back in time for Beck’s Ulai.
“Something botherin’ you, Robot?”
