Immersive

by Becky Moynihan

Eventually, he whispered, “Where’s Bren?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as pain lanced my heart.

  “Oh, Lune.” He held me tighter. “Is he . . . is he . . . ?”

  I inhaled a shaky breath and pulled back. “He’s not here. I have a lot to tell you, but it’s not safe to discuss in the open like this.”

  He nodded, his dimples winking as he chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “Same routine? Special knock and password?”

  Drying my cheeks, I agreed. “I have a night shift the day after tomorrow. Meet you then. But after that, we have to find someplace safer. I won’t risk your family.”

  His head bobbed again. “What should the password be?”

  I looked him square in the eye, knowing without a shred of doubt that he could be trusted. Wanting him to know it, I said, “Freedom.”

  He blinked, thrown off by my word choice. Usually I selected something completely ludicrous. His lips curled into an impish grin. “I like it.”

  My answering smile was just as wide.

  We didn’t linger. There was no telling who might be spying on my movements. I grimaced, remembering that Lars was skulking about somewhere. On the ground floor once again, I paused to take in the familiar noises I’d missed. Creaking leather, jangling metal, horse-like grunts.

  Crap. I hadn’t asked about Freedom!

  My boots pounded a rhythm down the main aisle. Curious equine heads emerged from their stalls, but my vision had narrowed to a fine point. There was only one charger head I wanted to see. Before reaching the end, I stopped and strained to hear a sound—any sound—from that last stall I knew so well.

  But all was silent. So devastatingly silent.

  My feet were lead weights bolted to the floor. I couldn’t bear the sight of an empty stall. Or worse—a trainee saddling her up for a run around the track. It was too much to hope. Too much to expect my charger to still be there, waiting for me. But that was the crazy thing about hope. It was stupidly persistent.

  I made a kissing noise. In reply came the faintest of rustling. My heart jumped into a gallop. I made the noise again, this time louder. When a squeal rent the air, my chest all but exploded. I moved, even before her chestnut head popped out to greet me. Because I would know that sound of joy anywhere.

  She remembers me, she still loves me. She remembers me, she still loves me.

  Fresh tears blurred my vision as I approached, belatedly realizing that I’d forgotten a slab of meat. I probably shouldn’t chance it for our first reunion, but when she strained against the stall door to reach me, I shoved caution aside. I touched her nose, the only soft spot on her entire body, chuckling as she breathed in my scent and exhaled gustily. My arms ached to wrap themselves around her prickly neck, but there were too many witnesses.

  I hadn’t forgotten where I was—the city that preyed on weakness.

  Renold wouldn’t hesitate to hurt or even kill her if it meant keeping me in line. And I intended to uphold my promise to her. She would taste freedom, feeling it race through her mane and thunder under her hooves.

  So I reined in my happiness, carefully stroking her face, but without the affection I desperately wanted to give. I whispered her name. Not her birth name, but the one I’d secretly given her. “Hey, Freedom.”

  She nickered contentedly, eyeing me with those keen yellow irises so similar to a lion’s.

  I managed to saddle her without bursting into tears, the familiar motions bringing back countless memories. Bruises, cuts, spills, close calls. But also tender ones, even peaceful ones as she’d shown me nothing but devotion. I hadn’t appreciated everything she’d given me before, too focused on training and earning my freedom. But now, every sound she made—every muscle twitch and tail flick—was a gift.

  This. This. Could all be gone in a blink of an eye. I hadn’t cherished the small moments, the moments that brought tiny glimmers of peace, joy, and happiness. Maybe I hadn’t been free, but I’d been alive. And I should have lived every second to the fullest.

  I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Starting now, I would live each moment as if it were my last.

  “Come on, girl,” I crooned in Freedom’s ear, unlocking the stall door. “It’s time for us to fly.”

  There was eternal silence and ringing emptiness.

  Then there was hurt. A yawning black pit.

  So huge that I felt lost inside my head.

  No. His head.

  Bren, I—I’m so—

  Please don’t. Please don’t say it.

  Silence. The kind that collapsed my lungs and left me floundering for air.

  I thought I could do this, Lune, but I can’t.

  More silence.

  It stretched and stretched until I was firmly pushed from his mind.

  Fog blanketed the evening of my first night shift.

  Perfect.

  Freedom stomped a hoof, blowing a ploom of air from her nostrils. After only two days of riding, I already had fresh cuts on my palms. I welcomed the sting, a reminder that I was alive and with my beloved charger. But time was running out quickly for Iris. A day ago, something terrible happened, blocking me from communicating with her.

  For two days, I’d checked her condition at least a dozen times with no problem. She was either asleep or alone and afraid. But on the last occasion, she’d been in a world of pain. I’d snapped back to my body and spent the next hour sobbing for her. After that, I hadn’t been able to reach her mind.

  And then there was Bren. His pain was different, but no less potent.

  After that botched attempt at contacting him, I hadn’t tried again. He needed space to lick his wounds—and maybe punch a few trees. But fear also kept me away. Fear that I’d ruined our relationship for good. I couldn’t stand to hear him say that it was over, that we were over. I was a coward who couldn’t face the consequences of my actions.

  Hopefully tonight would provide answers, or at least a distraction.

  I handed Freedom’s reins to Ryker, still astride his dark bay charger, Napoleon. If a guard questioned my whereabouts, the answer was simple: I was taking a bathroom break. A very long one. Dinner hadn’t agreed with my stomach.

  “Loop around the village a couple times, then meet me back here,” I reminded him, checking for guards nearby.

  “Half an hour,” he said firmly. “Don’t be late.”

  I nodded distractedly, waving him off as I darted for cover. How many of the guards were Sensors? I’d need to be more careful considering they could see in the dark and probably smell me. Which made me think of Lars again. Where was he? I hadn’t seen him once. Maybe he’d tripped and fallen on his saber. That would solve one of my problems, at least.

  Slipping through the village undetected was easier than I remembered, probably due to the fog. But maybe partly due to my new title. I felt a tad untouchable, overconfident that I wouldn’t get into trouble, which left a sour taste in my mouth. My elite status was already going to my head. Did all the elites feel this way? Powerful? Invincible?

  Ugh.

  I hated it. Hated myself for feeling those things.

  But it was addicting, and I could understand now why so many elites scrambled for more. Having control—no matter how superficial that control was—did something to you. I couldn’t deny the rush it gave me, so similar to adrenaline. And if I was an adrenaline junkie . . .

  Stars help me.

  The weathered green door of Asher’s house materialized out of the fog. I switched my disturbing thoughts off, poised to knock when the door suddenly slid open. As Asher’s head popped out, I jerked back, swallowing a startled squeak. Instead of ushering me inside, though, he stepped outside—the first time I’d ever seen him break curfew.

  I immediately waved for him to go back where it was safe, revealing the pack of food I’d brought. But he simply shook his head and tucked the offering inside before sealing the door shut. When he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and grabbed my hand, I was too surprised to resist as h
e led me behind the house.

  He moved with ease through the narrow, cobble-stone alleys, pausing at multiple intervals to listen. Obviously he’d taken this route before. My best friend, the simple, rule-following stable hand, really was The Ridge’s inside man. And that fact terrified me. He squeezed my fingers as if picking up on the emotion. Crap, he probably was.

  Had he always been this capable and I’d simply never seen it?

  We didn’t go far, stopping at a house tucked among flowering trees, which hid most of the front from view. Asher scanned the area before he approached the door and gave the wood a quiet rap. One. One, two, three. Our special knock.

  My jaw dropped.

  The door cracked open an inch. “Code word.”

  “Freedom,” Asher murmured.

  What. The. Crap.

  Okay, I was officially freaked out. But as the door swung inward to let us through, I followed my friend inside. Because it was time. Time for me to take a chance on others. Time to trust and work together with them. I couldn’t do this alone, and if Asher trusted these people, then so would I.

  The house was almost pitch black when I entered. Since electricity in the village was turned off at night, this was normal, but not even a candle lit the way. As we were ushered into the unknown depths, I itched to hold one of my daggers. The word trap played through my head. But Asher, kind and dependable Asher, was at my back. I drew comfort from that as our faceless host disappeared into the thick darkness.

  Asher nudged my shoulder, redirecting my steps just as my boot knicked something—a piece of furniture. His hand lingered, guiding the way. He seemed to sense that things had changed. That I wouldn’t reject his touch as I once had. Trust and vulnerability would always be hard for me, but letting others in felt good. It chipped away the cold wall of anger and resentment I’d built around my heart.

  From ahead came a faint creak. It could have been a loose floorboard, but when a cool draft hit my face, I reached for a weapon. Asher stayed my hand.

  “Look,” he whispered.

  I frowned, unable to see a thing. Fear tickled my throat as the inky room pressed in on me. This was a bad idea. Asher was acting strange and . . . and then I saw it. A flicker of color. Orange. A candle? But that couldn’t be right. Because it was coming out of the—

  A glowing hand rose from the floor. I flinched and bumped into my friend, who simply patted my arm reassuringly. Sure, this was fine. People popping out of the ground was totally normal. Except I knew about zombies now. If this person at all resembled one, I was chopping the thing’s head off.

  I warily watched the mysterious hand pass a candle to our host, then vanish below again. It took me a moment to realize I was being waved toward the strange hole in the floor. Wait. They wanted me to go down there? I mentally resisted even as my feet carried me forward.

  Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

  Then, Trust them. Trust Asher! He wouldn’t hurt you.

  I peered into the abyss and spotted a ladder. Okay, so it wasn’t a grave. I could do this. The entire climb down, I didn’t breathe, expecting hands to grab my clothing and drag me deeper, deeper, deeper. But when my boots landed on something solid, I was surprised to discover concrete.

  After a quick peek to make sure Asher was descending, I ventured inside. A short tunnel opened up into a large, underground room packed with . . .

  I stifled a gasp.

  Men. Women.

  They must be villagers.

  Lots of them. Maybe twenty or so.

  And by the looks on their faces, they all knew who I was. Some appeared as wary as I felt, but most had that hopeful look. Like I was their savior or something. And here I thought it would be the other way around. That or they would bury me down here.

  When Asher was once again at my back, our host—a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair—stepped forward. “It’s good to see you in one piece, Miss Tatum. We—”

  “It’s Lune Avery, actually,” I interrupted, feeling heat creep up my neck as brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not the Tatum’s daughter. It’s true they adopted me, but I was stolen from my home. My mother is still out there.”

  Murmurs of surprise filled the room. Besides Bren, I hadn’t told anyone in this city of my past, not even Asher.

  Our host’s faded brown eyes were warm as he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. We saw your scarred back at the village dance, and the food you shared with one of our own. It was Asher who convinced us to trust you, and since he’s nothing but honest, we agreed to this meeting. It is safe to talk openly here. This room, built before our time, is all but soundproof and free of hidden voice communicators. We have a few other meeting locations too that we use on rotation. When you and that outsider, Brendan Bearon, disappeared almost four months ago, a revolution was born. We’ve been planning and organizing ever since.”

  “Planning what?” I whispered, holding my breath. Yes, I was feeling it too. A spark of hope.

  “To give a voice to the people,” Asher answered, coming up beside me. “We want to send a message that our days of silence are over. When a person goes missing, we’ll speak up. When someone’s abused, we’ll help them. We want fair payment for the work we do—proper food, lodging, and medical treatment. And if the Elite Trials truly are rigged like Bren said they are, then we can’t rely on them to better our stations.”

  He turned to me with that contagious smile of his. “We all deserve an equal chance, and to have a say in our future. So whatever the Supreme Elite is doing, we want it to stop. It’s time we stood up for ourselves as you did that night of the Winter Gala, and work together as you and Bren did in the Trials.”

  “Here, here!” several voices murmured, excitement rippling through the crowd.

  Excitement stirred in me too. Bren had been right. The oppressed people of Tatum City were ready to rise up. They could help us free Iris and the others trapped inside the bunker. Their numbers could even the great odds against us. My only allies weren’t miles away out of reach anymore. They were here, standing right in front of me.

  But even though I was proud of what my best friend had accomplished, I still feared for Asher’s safety. All those years of talking him out of entering the Trials, and now this? His mother and siblings needed him. But didn’t mine need me too? And I was still risking it all. Maybe that was the point. We were doing this for them, which meant we were willing to make the sacrifices necessary to secure their futures.

  Even if that sacrifice was our own lives.

  Sorrow filled me. Oh, Bren, I understand now. I understand completely. I’m so sorry that I took that away from you.

  As hard as it was to see those I loved willingly put themselves in danger, the alternative was even worse. They were fighting for what they believed in, and I would honor that.

  I returned Asher’s smile with a slightly wobbly one of my own before facing the others. “I’m glad to hear that you want to fight back, because I have a lot to tell you.” I shared everything with them, speaking mind-to-mind with Asher when my restraining chip interfered.

  By the time I was done, they knew about the missing people in the bunker, Renold’s possible plans for war, and his secret breeding program. I explained my Visionary ability and how many of them could have abilities of their own. And I told them about Blue Ridge Sector, our new allies.

  The need to take action shivered through the room, but we had to carefully bide our time. The prisoners inside the bunker were at Renold’s mercy. We had to free them before they could be used as leverage against us. When they were safe, we would set our budding plan into motion.

  After confirming a time for the next meeting, it was late. Too late. I gave Asher a quick hug and hurried to the spot I’d left Ryker. Fog still hovered above the ground, distorting his features, but the blue flash of his eyes cut through the gloom.

  “You’re late,” he hissed, his body a wall of coiled tension.

  Without a word, I mounted Freedom and picked my way through
the black streets. Beside me, Ryker seethed, but he knew better than to argue publicly. I could have formed a mental connection and told him everything. Instead, I let the silence drag between us, making him wonder. Making him worry. Because at the end of the day, I still didn’t know if my wildly unpredictable friend would choose to save this city or his.

  Eventually, when Antler Hill Village was a speck in the distance, I sent Ryker a message. We have an army. On the inside. It was short, but unmistakably clear.

  I allowed my hope to soar.

  A week went by.

  Two more underground meetings.

  A plan took shape.

  And then . . .

  “Do you know what this is about?” I muttered to Ryker, giving Freedom one last pat before we joined the throng in Village Square. He shook his head, using his glare more than his body to part the masses.

  Villagers and elites alike mingled, their unease palpable. A mandatory meeting this time of year had never happened before. The only time the lesser and the esteemed were required to be in the same place was for the annual Elite Trials, but the event wasn’t for another half a year. Something big was about to happen, and it probably wasn’t good.

  The viewing screen used for the Arcus Point Trial switched on, displaying the arrowhead insignia. There was a commotion directly beneath the elevated screen, guards dressed in blue surrounding what looked like a villager. Several gasps and murmurs filled the air.

  I squinted for a better look, pressing forward. The man was slouched, head downcast with hands behind his back. Beaten? The answer became clearly visible as his form flickered to life on the wide viewing screen above.

  There were more gasps and cries, but mostly stunned silence.

  Blood was caked in the man’s thinning brown hair, his face so swollen that I almost didn’t recognize him. But I did. He was the kind host from our first underground meeting.

  “Citizens of Tatum City,” a voice boomed. I jerked around, searching for the source. He was on a raised dais, the midnight blue cape he wore for the Trials draped across his shoulders. Gold and sapphire rings flashed in the morning light, his wife Blanca and daughter Rose behind him as he spread his arms wide.