“You like it, don’t you?” Corin’s voice turns a bit, worry burrowing in.
I force a smile onto my face as I stare at the bed. It doesn’t mean anything has to happen. I know that.
Except, if I didn’t know about Siora and Quinn, I would want it to happen.
Somewhere alone, quiet, with Corin. It was all I wanted last night. I wanted to touch him, explore him, be with him in every way now that we had safety.
“Good,” Corin says, and he kisses my neck.
Energy fizzes through me, but I don’t feel in tune with it. How can I? If I hadn’t known who Siora and Quinn are, if they hadn’t told me, and Corin was kissing me like this, would this be when we slept together? Would I become pregnant from this?
Or would it be later on?
My head spins.
“Hey.” Corin brushes his thumb across my lower lip, exerts only a little pressure.
I’m facing him. I don’t remember turning. But now the bed’s to my left. The bed.
“You seem distracted.”
You have to tell him.
There’s a lump in my throat, and I try to swallow it down, but all the movement does is make it feel like it’s scratching me, gouging out my flesh.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice vague. My chest’s all fluttery, my heart pounding. It’s too hot in here. Then: “No. Sorry. I’m just…tired.”
I pull away from him, push my hair away from my face.
The bed. The bed. The bed. It’s a mantra inside me, makes my stomach tie in knots. And it’s stupid. I’m not nervous. Am I? I wasn’t before, when….
No, that was Raleigh. Raleigh who I lay with, whose arms were around me.
No. Mustn’t think about that. My mind… I’m all messed up.
“You’re right,” Corin says. “Your hair does look longer.”
“What?” I reach up again, touch it.
It is longer, longer again. I frown. It can’t grow that quickly. Seer powers. Has to be. They’re making my hair grow fast?
Tears come to my eyes, and I turn away quickly. Don’t know why they’re there.
“Sev, what is it?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“You’ve had a tiring day. Just sleep.”
He retreats toward the door. Leaving so easily—just like that?
I stare at him. My boyfriend.
“Wait.” My voice wobbles. “Where are you going?”
“Sev, you’re tired.”
“Aren’t you going to stay here too?”
He presses his lips together for a long moment, then shakes his head slowly. “You need to sleep. You don’t look that well.”
“But I’d feel safer if you’re here with me,” I whisper, and I know exactly how those words will make him feel. I don’t want him to go. I want him here. Right next to me.
His eyes brighten, and he smiles. “Of course I’ll stay with you.”
I sleep badly, even though Corin’s by my side. Maybe that’s why. We don’t do anything more than cuddle and kiss before we sleep, and I expect to feel as safe and secure in his arms as I always do—as I used to. But I don’t.
Neither of us takes any clothes off—maybe that’s the problem. It feels strange. Different.
I toss and turn all night. My head’s too full of things—of Siora and Quinn—and the next morning, when we get out from under the covers, when I see him take his shirt off, put a clean one on from a pile of clothes I now notice are also in the room, my stomach lurches, and I feel giddy. Because my longing, my desire for him, doesn’t turn off. I want to reach over and touch him, slip my hands under his shirt, press them flat against his skin. Press myself against him. Take my shirt off, have my bare skin against his.
Yet, at the same time, I think of Siora and Quinn. Our daughters.
It’s too much. Just too much.
We head over to the other buildings, and find some food being prepared. We join in, slicing bananas.
“Is this all we’ve got?” Corin asks.
“Yes.”
“This isn’t going to last long.”
“We’re hunting today. We’ll get meat.”
Laughter bursts out from the other side of the room.
“Gods, I can’t believe you did that for a dare,” one of the reindeer herders is saying, gesturing to Melissa’s face.
She’s holding the squirming three-year-old, but she still reaches up to touch the tattoo. “My friend said I didn’t have the balls for it. Proved him wrong, didn’t I?”
Siora and Quinn enter, and my attention turns to them rather than Melissa’s tattoo. Siora’s gaze lingers on Corin and I for a little while. Quinn refuses to look over at us in such a way I know she’s seen us.
“Seven, we need to talk strategy,” Taras says, bustling over. “We need to know whether you can still control the spirits.”
“I can’t. Raleigh’s got that power.”
“But you can stop them attacking us,” Elf says. “You can kill them.” But there’s something off about his voice.
Or maybe it’s just me, because I’m concentrating on Siora and Quinn. They’re whispering. What are they whispering?
I tell Taras I’ve got a headache and don’t feel well enough this morning, and it might be the Seer instability. The lie doesn’t even feel bad.
I walk to the far spirit wall of the settlement, and I’m not sure why.
I breathe in the fresh air, then sit on a low stone wall nearby. The vision Siora sent me plays over and over in my mind.
Me?
Motherhood?
How do I process something like this?
“You’re not telling the truth.”
Elf’s voice makes me jump, and I jolt, see him emerge from behind the trunk of a huge tree fern. I face him, breathing hard.
He sidles up to me, tilts his head to one side. “I could always tell when Keelie was lying. It appears I can with you too.”
He sits next to me, on the stone wall.
“What is it?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
He pulls a face. “Do you really expect me to believe that? And all that stuff about another spirit attacking you, Siora, and Quinn?” He lowers his voice. “What really happened?”
“Nothing different to what I’ve already said.” I keep my voice steady, and I wonder if I’m ever going to tell anyone—and whether Siora and Quinn know I will or won’t. Oh Gods. What if I make a different decision, say something different? But it’s the first time it’s happening—for me. Would I change what I tell them later so they know what to say? Or would that rewrite time, if I do something too different?
I don’t know how it all works, what the rules are.
Elf shrugs. “Guess I’ll go and ask them.”
It’s a test. I can tell it in the way he says it, the lilt of his voice, how he’s looking at me, waiting for a reaction.
“Go ahead.” I force my voice to be as light as possible. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Elf frowns, and I can see he’s not convinced.
“Just remember, Seven, lies get people killed.”
“Elf, there’s nothing, okay? Nothing important.”
“Things that aren’t important don’t need to be kept a secret. It’s the things that do which are. It’s those that eventually kill.”
By late afternoon, I realize I need to distract myself.
It’s obvious.
I need a distraction from Siora and Quinn. Distract myself with war strategy—which is what I should be doing anyway.
We need to know what the enemy’s doing—they may be in a different timeline to us, but there’s a chance we could be thrown forward there. We need all the information we can get on their plans.
Taras’s warning rings in my head. I mustn’t body-share with Raleigh, because of the power transference channel. But there’s nothing to say I shouldn’t try to body-share with another Enhanced One.
But what about your Seer instability?
No. I feel b
etter. I feel strong. I can do this fine. If I body-share with one who isn’t a Seer, there’s no risk. It’s not like I can make them a Seer and give them my remaining powers.
Yes. I’m certain.
I won’t be drawing on my powers when I’m body-sharing. There’ll be no danger.
I go back to our room. Corin’s not here—he’ll be heading up a fighting session, helping the others with their combat skills—and I’m confident I’ve got several hours alone before he returns.
I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes, let my mind wander as I call on my body-sharing power, feel the way it fills me, so strong, so certain.
Doors appear before me, so many options. They appear so easily. For a moment, I wonder if it means the Enhanced have gone back in time too, that Quinn was wrong when she said only some Untamed are affected by the ripples. I can’t body-share across time, can I? Or maybe I can. Body-sharing across time wouldn’t involve any time-manipulation. Time itself wouldn’t change.
Siora said I don’t learn how to do time-manipulation until much later—is that because Raleigh currently has that power of mine? Just because I now know what’s caused the time-jump, it doesn’t mean Raleigh doesn’t have that power. He could and may just not be using it. Maybe he doesn’t know what it is.
I turn my back on Raleigh’s door—too much risk there.
But these others….
I breathe out slowly as I assess the options. I need someone powerful, but not a seer. Someone who’d know what the Enhanced are planning. Someone important? A section leader? Or are they too powerful—too close to Raleigh? Because if he was with them, would he see me, recognize me in their eyes? Especially if he’s got some of my powers….
I press my lips together and let my instincts guide me toward a connection, a person.
She sits at a desk, an ornate fountain pen in her left hand. Smooth, pale skin. Purple nails, well-manicured. Ink is running from the nib of her pen, running over a map that already has several areas marked with little black crosses.
Her vision is glassy, and she jolts as she realizes the mess the pen has made.
She shakes her head, then leans back, and I try to see around—try to see without moving her eyes. I need to know who she is, where I am, what’s going on.
Something bleeps.
She takes a radio from her belt. A narrow waist. A crisp, white blouse and a long, pale blue skirt.
She flicks a switch on the radio. “Yes?”
Her voice is smooth, and I recognize it immediately.
Zahlia. Jed’s mother, and the leader of New Kitembu—before Raleigh took over the city when the other Untamed and I were brought there.
The radio hums. “We have received intel that four captives are on their way.” The signal isn’t great, and there’s some interference.
Captives? My mind races.
“How soon will they arrive here?” Zahlia asks.
“About ten minutes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Have them taken to my garden room as soon as they arrive.”
She disconnects the radio, then stands and sets the pen down next to the map. Her breathing is steady and even, and she smiles to herself. Then she turns and leaves the room—I get a quick sweep of lilac wallpaper and an ornate lampshade.
“Naomi.” Zahlia stops a small woman in the corridor. “Have four vials of Honesty delivered to my garden room, as soon as you can.”
The small woman nods and rushes away.
Zahlia’s smile grows bigger, stronger as she makes her way down a grand staircase. Her garden room isn’t far, and she’s the first one there. There’s a strong sense of calm in the room, tranquility. As she looks around, I take the opportunity to observe. Whitewashed walls with a floral-print wallpaper. The light fragrance of spicy perfume hangs in the air. Four big windows take up most of one wall, and, outside, I can see sand. Sand. My heart lifts. Sand and low-lying vegetation, for as far as the eye can see, disappearing over the horizon. This room must be right at the edge of the city.
A moment later, Naomi is back with a box which she places carefully on the table at the side of the room, under Zahlia’s instruction, before scurrying out.
Zahlia’s radio buzzes again, and the voice on the other end tells her the captives have arrived at the compound.
With a flick of her long skirt, Zahlia heads back to the door and holds it open. A few minutes pass, and then I see them. Men and women, with their hands tied in front of them, each being led forward by an Enhanced One.
The captives are Untamed—still.
I gasp as I stare at their eyes.
Zahlia gasps; for a moment, I freeze, thinking I’ve made her gasp—but then she stares at the guards in shock. “Why have these poor beings not been saved?”
“We were worried our augmenters would make the Untamed ill still.”
She tuts and shakes her head. “That has not been a problem for quite a while now, as I’m sure you know. These poor dears, suffering like this, so unnecessarily. Take them in here.”
She steps back, indicating the garden room.
“Let us go,” one of the Untamed says as he passes her on his way into the room. The others don’t speak, just stare with wide eyes. The fear radiating from them is palpable.
Zahlia’s body fills with sympathy—I feel it, like it’s gushing from a tap, and I don’t understand—because she hasn’t just taken an augmenter. But it’s strong, pulsing through her.
“My dears, I am so sorry for this extended suffering. You can rest assured that I will talk to the men who rescued you, and they will receive better training.”
One of the Enhanced guards raise his eyebrows. “We’re already disobeying Raleigh’s orders.”
Her body stiffens, and she feels taller. “Is this Raleigh’s city? Is it?” She takes a step forward. “No, it is not. It is mine. New Kitembu has been mine for years, and now it is back in its rightful leadership. And, here, my orders are followed.”
She inhales deeply as she walks to the little table with the black box. Its hinges creak as she flicks the lid open. Four vials of gold liquid stand upright in a wire frame. She plucks two out, with care.
“No!” one of the Untamed yells, and then they’re all yelling.
A brown-eyed woman throws the first punch, and her guard stumbles back.
Zahlia sighs, places one of the vials back, then she springs forward. Her sharp nails latch onto the woman’s skin, the skin of her neck as she pinches, pinches hard.
“My dear, the pain will be over soon.” But her voice doesn’t sound like hers anymore. It sounds harsh, like it’s a sharp knife. “Drink this.”
The Untamed woman makes a gasping noise as Zahlia effortlessly flicks the lid off the augmenter and tips it into the woman’s mouth.
“Swallow.” Zahlia waits, eyebrows raised.
Mirrors slide upward, across the woman’s eyes. A moment later, her body sags. Not so she’s unconscious, but she still needs the guard’s support.
The other Untamed yell and yell, and I know what’s coming, and I don’t want to watch. I shouldn’t watch.
I should be doing something—I could do something. I could take over Zahlia.
But taking control of her body would use more power than being passive does, and using more power may increase my risk of Seer instability. I don’t know how far away the next bout of it will be. If there is another lot lurking.
Even if I did control Zahlia, there are four other Enhanced in the room. Five, including the newly converted woman. They’d overpower her—me.
I let the sounds and the sights blur as the rest of the Untamed are given their first taste.
Then Zahlia clasps her hands together. “I will get to the welcome speech later, but, for now, I have some questions for you poor people, now that Honesty is in your system. Tell me, do you know Seven Sarr? Have you seen her? Do you know her location?”
I freeze, feel everything in me—my own body—tighten.
She eyes each of he
r captives, sees her reflection smiling back in their eyes. I start to feel sick.
They shake their heads.
“Such a shame,” Zahlia says.
“You’re not going to find her,” one of the guards says. “It’ll be one of the Section. People who are pouring all their resources into the search. Or maybe she really will deliver herself to Raleigh, like he believes she will.”
The corners of Zahlia’s mouth tighten. “No. It will be me. I will find her. Never underestimate the power of a woman with a goal. I will deliver Shania to the Section, and I will be the leader of Section Three very soon, mark my words.” She turns her back to the Untamed. “Take them away for the full conversion—”
“But Raleigh said he is supposed to approve new recruits.”
“Raleigh is not the leader of this city. He is not fit to be a leader at all. He abandoned his own children—made me abandon them, told me I did not want them with me, made me believe that. If he abandons his own flesh and blood and does not save them, how can he be expected to lead the Chosen Ones in his section, rather than just those who fit his plan?”
I feel it, her anger—something she shouldn’t feel—mixed with more things she shouldn’t experience: resentment, jealousy, bitterness. But they’re all focused on me—on finding me by questioning my people. And it’s all she’s concentrating on.
Yes, the time-jump, the side effect of my future self sending Siora and Quinn here, has only affected the Untamed, the ones in the spirit-dome, the ones I’m around. I’m certain. And Quinn said it only affected some Untamed. If it had happened to the rest of the world, the Section would be all over it, and Zahlia too. She wants to be a world leader; she wouldn’t stay here, converting Untamed if there were bigger things to look at.
I really am body-sharing across timelines, seeing things that are happening now for Zahlia, but that happen a week ahead in the timeline I’m on. How? Because of my powers, the immensity of power in me?
“Take them away,” Zahlia says with a dismissive flick of her fingers. “These poor people deserve to feel happiness again. And you, Tobias—see me later. I’ll have Naomi take over your shift. Women can always be trusted when men cannot, and—”
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