The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  “I guess,” she murmurs. “Edan talked to me about it once.”

  I push up from the grass. “What did he say?”

  Aspen sets her fishing pole aside.

  “He said I should be careful. That I should slow down and not act until I understand the situation more clearly.”

  Shame shadows her features. “I didn’t listen. I thought he was wrong to stand around waiting, like the rebels should do more if they were brave.”

  My gaze sticks to the sparkling water. I don’t know what brought up the memory for Aspen, but I understand; it keeps happening to me too. Sometimes it’s a smell. Sometimes a phrase pulls me back. I scoot closer until our arms touch.

  “We all made mistakes during those weeks,” I say. “It’s not something we can change.”

  Her head hangs, fingers fiddling with the clean seam of her shoe. She peeks at me and whispers, “I heard you screaming. When we locked you in the room…I heard you. I wanted to come back.” Tears slip down her sun-kissed cheeks.

  “I’m not sorry for the things that happened to me,” I say gently. “I’m changed now.” I nudge her. “Besides, I knew there was nothing you could do.”

  She nods, but she’s still crying, all the sunshine and warmth and fish forgotten. These moments fall at random, like clouds moving over the sun; it will drift away again. I wrap an arm around her back, and we wait together.

  Their laughter carries on the air, all the layers and tones of it. All the joy. Aspen and I walk a path toward a wide field of grass, where the children play, running wild with toothy grins. A stark contrast to the dark, cold cafeteria they were once confined to.

  I wave to one of the supporters, a woman in a yellow, uniform t-shirt who oversees Ben’s group. They’re cared for throughout the days, allowing the adults time to learn and adapt to life in the South. Ben sits on a blanket with other toddlers, playing with toys shaped like cars.

  My gaze drifts over the sunny field, searching for Sam. I find him near the edge of the activity, talking with two boys that don’t appear to be part of our group. His siblings play nearby. I still, watching as the boys use their hands and bodies to make their words bigger. Sam laughs, and the boys laugh too. They all run into the field together, choosing a place to play catch with a white ball.

  Some of the supporters join in, encouraging the interaction.

  “We should play,” Aspen says, but I pull back when she tugs me toward the game.

  “I don’t know how.”

  She scowls at me, so annoyed it makes me laugh. “What?”

  “This? This is the thing you can’t do?”

  Our gazes hold, and her words sink in. A slow smile spreads over my face.

  “Yeah, okay,” I murmur.

  54

  Four months have passed since the Southern army lifted us from the valley, all bruised and worn, skin and bones. Many were lost on the mountains. Many more on the streets and in the towers when they fell. Very few Outcasts survived the harsh blizzard.

  The dead outnumber the living.

  But by the second month, we were learning what it meant to be free under the sovereign rule of the king. The concept too closely resembled the Council’s system at first, but I’ve grown to understand that one good king can do what five corrupt men cannot. Loyalty can be purchased by fear and money, but love can’t. Devotion and respect must be earned.

  Takeshi visits on the last day of April. We’re called to the lobby of the hospital, where we stand below while he addresses us from the railing of the next level up.

  “My father has invited you all to the palace. You’ll visit in groups, and from there you’ll be settled in homes, where you can begin a new life.”

  Murmurs rise from the crowd. Beside me, a woman silently weeps.

  “When I look at you,” Takeshi continues, “I’m reminded of your courage, of your resilience and determination. I see strong people, deserving of every good thing this country offers. You were made for this land. Enter into this new season knowing you belong. You are wanted. And you will never again suffer as you have.”

  Voices rise, an outcry of joy and excitement. Of love for the young man who will one day be our king. I watch Takeshi take it with grace as he always does, descending the stairs in bounding steps, joining the celebration below.

  He weaves his way through the crowd, until he’s reached me.

  “They’ll arrive in a few days,” he says, leaning in to keep his voice private, “but why don’t you come with me today? You can help my mother prepare. She’d appreciate your input.”

  “She wouldn’t mind?”

  He laughs. “She’s too excited. I think the distraction will be good for her. Besides, there’s an ex-Watcher roaming the halls in desperate need of affection.”

  He throws me a playful grin before moving on to greet more people. A thrill shoots through me.

  Before meeting him on the roof, I stop by a large playroom where Ben is cared for during the day. We arrange for him to travel with the group, staying close to the other children he’s grown used to.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I whisper, kissing his soft hair. When I look at him, I wonder if he will resemble his father. I never got a good look at the man’s face, even in the moments I checked for a pulse.

  Emily rides the elevator to the roof with me.

  “Will you bring Sam and his siblings in the first group?” I ask. “Cash will want to see them.”

  She nods. “I’ll see to it. But Hannah, take this time to relax.”

  I watch the numbers climb as she continues.

  “You’ve spent the last months taking in a great deal of admiration. You spend so much effort caring for others. It’s okay to need rest.”

  Her words stay with me when I climb into the helicopter and strap myself to the seat. I adjust a headset over my ears, dulling out the noise of the blades. Emily stands near the glass doors, waving her whole arm, a broad smile making me miss her before we’ve even lifted to the air. I wave back, anxious for her to join us later in the week.

  Takeshi sits across from me, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “You’re in for a treat.”

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  “No way!” he says through the headset. “Much more fun to make you wait.”

  His gleeful grin draws up one of my own. Excitement flutters through me. I push a long breath out.

  55

  My eyes don’t leave the window the entire trip. Large cities glisten below, high buildings and spidering streets, alive with cars and people so small, so tiny, I have to squint to make them out.

  The cities taper off into wilderness, with houses scattered across wide fields and open plains of grass. Large gatherings of trees appear at random, and I wonder what wildlife live among them. Lines of water cut through the land, spilling into lakes or narrowing to nothing. There’s no sense or pattern, but it’s beautiful.

  Takeshi feeds off my energy, pointing out every new thing, sharing more information than my mind can contain. But I listen and try to hold on to it.

  I stop him when I realize what I’ve been passively staring at for the last minute. I’ve been caught on the horizon, trying to work out why I can’t see land beyond a certain point. Why the earth stops abruptly. Takeshi leans to follow my gaze, turning in his seat to get a better view. His smile grows.

  A flock of large, white birds pass several yards away, heading toward the shimmering water in the distance, and I envy them. I want to throw myself from the door and soar at their side. See it the way they do.

  “Home at last,” Takeshi says, and my wide eyes shift to his.

  “You live by the ocean.” I say it like a fact, not a question, because there it is before me. “You didn’t tell me.”

  I stare at the approaching expanse of water, longing to be standing at its edge. I feel it like a living force, rushing through my veins until I’m not sure if I should cry or laugh. I don’t look away until the view is obscured by the building we la
nd on.

  The helicopter shuts down after we settle, and warm, briny air envelops me when I exit onto a white roof. I inhale the new fragrance.

  “Welcome home, son!” a female voice calls. I follow the sound to a petite, dark-haired woman closing the distance between us fast. Her arms spread wide, the soft, loose fabrics of her pink dress billowing in the salty wind.

  “This must be Hannah,” she says, taking my hands in hers. She joins them, then pats gently. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Takeshi’s told me so much. I hope you’ll make yourself at home while you’re here.”

  “Thank you for having me,” I say, sounding stiffer than I meant. I offer a smile to soften it. “It’s such an honor.”

  The queen waves off my words. “Let’s forget formalities. I want you to feel you can relax here. And before you ask, I’d like it if you’d call me Naomi. At least when we’re alone.” She winks.

  “Where’s father?” Takeshi asks as we amble toward a flight of stairs leading down to another exterior landing. Guards in blue stand along the walls.

  Naomi sighs. “Away, I’m afraid. But he promises to be home before the banquet.”

  Takeshi chuckles. “Banquet?”

  She throws him a chiding look. “Of course. This visit is something to celebrate.”

  “And will there be a banquet for every group?” he asks. “You do know they’re coming in waves.”

  Naomi stops in her tracks, facing her son with determination. “There will be food, dancing, and fireworks for every soul plucked from that terrible place. If my home will be their last stop before entering society, then I’ll be sure it’s a visit they will never forget.”

  With that she struts off, and I’m left standing with Takeshi, adoring her.

  Soft, muted tones decorate the interior. Orange and green and gold. Pinks and blues. But all dialed back and earthy. Sheer curtains dance before giant open windows. Twinkling crystal light fixtures catch the sun’s afternoon glow. Naomi guides me down a long hall, explaining the rooms and layout.

  “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?”

  “The water,” I answer without pause. “I mean, I’d love to see the ocean.”

  Naomi nods approvingly. “I’ll show you my favorite spot in the house. There’s a balcony overlooking the beach, and I spend hours out there in the evenings. It’s the best place to read.”

  I don’t miss how she calls this building a house. I suppose to her that’s what it is, but from what I’ve seen so far, it’s larger than the Council’s fortress in the North, and arranged differently. Instead of a deep reaching block, the levels of this structure stretch like arms spread wide along the coast, with small steps creating variety within each floor.

  “I’ll show you to your bedroom,” the queen says, “and I do mean for you to rest as much as you like. Don’t feel any pressure to behave in a certain manner or adhere to a schedule. Let this be a respite.”

  A blond woman, young and pretty, approaches ahead of us. She carries a tray holding used dishes and napkins. I catch her eye in the moment we pass and feel a spark of recognition. But I’ve never seen her before, and nothing in her appearance is familiar. She smiles at me and nods reverently at the queen.

  “Who is she?” I ask when she’s far behind us.

  Naomi turns to look again, but the woman is gone. “I believe that was Alice,” she says. “An assistant in the kitchen.” Her eyes fill with sympathy. “She lost her husband recently, though I don’t recall his name. He was a soldier.”

  I meet her glance, and understanding settles in. He was lost to the valley. Lost saving us. I stop suddenly.

  “Drew,” I whisper. The queen nods.

  “I think that’s right,” she says, surprised. “Did you know him?”

  Sorrow winds through me. I bow my head at his memory.

  56

  An image of the ocean is nothing when compared to the real thing. The smells. The air and sounds. The beat of it…like a heart pounding with life.

  White birds swoop low against the evening sky, tossing their cries against the high stone wall below the palace. Waves roar soft against the beach. I taste it on my tongue and feel it on my skin, and I might not have been living before this. Not really.

  I slip out of my shoes and step off the walkway, curling my toes in the gritty sand. My eyes fall closed, and I let the sounds drown out the screams. They drown out the weeping and guns and violence. The death. The endless, lonely silence.

  I move toward the water, trying out steps on this shifting earth. I stumble, unsteady, but I would do far more. I would climb the mountain again, crawl through dead leaves and soil on my hands and knees to get here. To see this.

  The sand is firmer at the water’s edge: packed down and soaked. It sticks to my feet, molding to the shape of my print. A cool wave laps over my toes, raising bumps all over my body. I stand still for a long time, mesmerized. Gazing.

  A hand slides over my waist, and I feel his warmth before I hear his whisper. “Finally.” His fingers curl into my shirt.

  When I twist around, he’s inches away. His eyes shine gold in this light. Glowing.

  Watchers are bad, my father once said. They aren’t here to protect you, Hannah. Do you understand? They are here to punish. He leaned closer. You must be careful. Don’t give them a reason to notice you.

  I grip his arms when the sand moves beneath me, but my eyes don’t leave his. There’s a difference now, but I can’t name it. I stare up at him, and his eyes don’t wander or roam my face. Instead they hold mine.

  “I promised you a date,” he says at last. His eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t smile. “Should we start now?”

  Why can’t I breathe?

  “I don’t know how,” I say. His lips twitch.

  “One more thing to learn together.”

  Water pushes farther onto the beach, breaking us apart when cold rushes over my feet and ankles. I squeal, stumbling back a few steps, deeper into the wet sand. The next wave soaks to my calves. I fall forward, and his hands catch my elbows.

  When we laugh, it feels like relief. Like healing.

  Cash plants his feet, widening his stance, and helps me stand upright. A black cane lies half-buried in the sand at our left. I bend to grab it for him, but he stops me.

  “I have you,” he says, and warmth pours through my chest. I touch his shoulder, feeling for the brace, but it’s gone. He smiles gently.

  “I earned my freedom.”

  My hand stays, and his look draws me in. “Are you still in pain?”

  “Not right now,” he murmurs.

  I don’t know where the kiss begins. Somewhere in the nearness, we connect, and my heart is on fire.

  After a minute, he pulls back. “We should get off the beach.”

  I wrap my arms tighter around his neck and shake my head. I can linger here. I’ve landed on the difference, on the thing I couldn’t name. There is no more fear. No threat intruding on our time. I kiss him harder.

  A chuckle rumbles up his throat. “I don’t know how to swim. Do you?”

  I gasp, tearing myself away. Ocean water covers the sand at our feet, no longer retreating when it swells. “What’s happening?”

  Cash bends to fish his cane from the water. I beat him to it. As we rise, he says, “It’s the tide. This entire beach will be underwater within the hour.”

  We cross to the walkway, where two pairs of shoes wait. I glance back, watching him approach. He uses the cane for support, but he’s strong. The clothes he wears are casual: brown pants rolled above his ankles and a white shirt with buttons down the center. A far cry from the black fatigues and rifle. Wind blows his hair in every direction. It’s grown longer in the last months. Less like a soldier. As the yards between us close, I feel my heart growing, doubling in size. Tripling.

  I sit on the edge of the walkway, where it ends abruptly half a foot above the beach. I try to brush the sand from my feet but only create a bigger mess.
/>   Cash stands with his back to me, looking out across the sea. As time passes, tension replaces what was just carefree and light. I rise from the walkway, dirtying my feet again to stand beside him. He doesn’t meet my glance.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He frowns. “When Titus had you, and Takeshi told me where you were, I didn’t think I would make it in time.” He exhales like the air is toxic. “I heard what he said to you. About me. About your parents.”

  He glares at the ground. My heart pounds, resisting the memory, resisting the pull back into the dark. But I will go there again…if only to bring him out of it.

  “You looked at me like you knew I would come.”

  “I didn’t know,” I say, because I can’t lie, even now, when it would hurt less. “But I knew you would try.”

  All the ocean sounds grow louder in our silence.

  “I still dream about it,” he tells me, his voice snagging on something deep. A pain he hasn’t been able to shake. “When I run, I can’t get to you.”

  I slip my hand into his and lean my head to his arm. We stay this way for a long time.

  57

  Of the four remaining Council members, three are dead. They were found in hiding at separate locations. When their guards resisted, they were met with guns. The last is nowhere to be found.

  I sit on a rug of teal and yellow, leaning into my bed. Above, a sheer white canopy flutters in a breeze that glides in from an open window. In the distance, ocean waves hush against the beach. I don’t feel the relief I imagined.

  When Takeshi informed us, he also said they’ve begun rehabilitating Watchers. A lengthy program will guide them toward right living, taking part in hard, fruitful labor and therapy. Ian is among those released to begin. A third are being charged with war crimes.

  As for the North, they now exist under the sovereignty of the king. Bo has volunteered to act as advisor in the restructuring process. Cash will be consulted as well, but he is free to begin a new life in the South. Free to find peace.