ashen city (Black Tiger Series Book 2)

by Sara Baysinger

  “We absolutely need to stop the madness.” He looks at me, and his eyes are raging thunder clouds, full of resolve and courage and a willingness to change things that I’ve never seen in him before. “We need to stop it,” he says. “Before one more Proletariat dies or one more Defender unknowingly has blood on their hands.”

  Rain leads me away from the city this time, to a hill that looks like it might have been a building once, but it’s covered in grass and moss and vines now. We climb to the top and sit on the flat mossy roof beneath a small tree that somehow managed to grow.

  Though abandoned, Louisville still looks majestic. Broken and crumbling, the buildings still stand tall, defying the vines that try to break them down. Louisville reminds me of the Resurgence in so many ways.

  Julius plops down beside me and rolls on his back, and I rub his belly and muse about his strange black stripes that I can just barely make out in the sunlight.

  “Do you miss Forest?” Rain asks. He’s sitting beside me, one knee propped up, his elbow resting on that knee, and he’s staring at me, his eyes guarded as he waits for an answer.

  “I miss…I miss who Forest used to be,” I say. “Or, at least, who I thought he was. When I first met him, he was open to changing the government. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized, he’d rather stay best friends with Titus than push him to make any changes. And that’s…that’s kind of unattractive to me.”

  Rain nods, looks down, then looks toward the city. “I just hate that it took you so long to realize his undying loyalty to Titus. But don’t…hate him, either. He’s just blinded. Confused. Conflicted with what he was taught all his youth and what the right thing to do is now. He was always a rule-follower. Even as children, he never stepped outside the lines of our father’s rules. He always wanted to please Father, so everything Father taught him, he took to heart.”

  I try to imagine them as children. Rain always getting into trouble, no doubt. And innocent, blue-eyed Forest, trying to please his father the way he now tries to please the chief.

  “I don’t hate him,” I say. “But…I don’t think I really ever want to stare passionately into his mysterious blue eyes again.”

  Rain snorts. “Spoken like a true romantic. Or, um, unromantic, I guess.”

  We both laugh, and I lean back on my elbows, stare at the city, sort of kind of wish this moment with Rain would last forever. The sky is blue today, with only a few clouds. A cool breeze rustles the leaves of the tree, and the sound is soothing, reminding me of lying in the apple orchard after a long day of work, when the summer wind would dance across the tree tops.

  “Rain?”

  “Mm-hm?”

  “I know…I know you believe in God and everything. But do you think…he speaks to us?”

  “Of course.”

  “But, I mean, there are so many people, how could he have time to, or even care to, speak to one person? What makes, like, me or you more special than someone else?”

  Rain sits up, rests his elbows on his knees and stares off into the distance, the wheels in his head clearly turning.

  “God is beyond time and space,” he says. “He’s not constrained by time like we are. His spirit could absolutely be with everyone at once. And we’re not more special. We just…take the time to listen.” He blinks and looks at me. “You’ve heard the voice of God, yes?”

  “I-I think so.”

  “When?”

  I chew the inside of my cheek and think for a moment. “I first felt, like, his presence, I guess, when I was alone in the apple orchard one morning. I was working, and I felt this pull, this energy that was alive and seemed to be calling out to me. I grew more familiar with it as time went by, but, you know, calling out to the unseen is certifiably insane, so I shrugged it off as my imagination. But then I felt it in my prison cell when I was arrested. And then the night before my death, there was no denying this Being calling out to me, the Unknown begging to be known by me.”

  I look at him, chills suddenly spreading across my skin at the simple memory. “Then you showed me the chapel and told me about God, and when I was burning on the Rebels Circle, I swear this Light came to me, like, in another dimension, and told me to prepare the way. Whatever that means.”

  “Prepare the way. Hm.” He looks down, his lips disappearing in thought. “Was it beautiful?”

  “What?”

  “This…other dimension?”

  “Yes. It was perfection. I felt elated. It was warm and bright and stunning, and I’d never felt so much happiness. And when the Light touched me, I felt alive.”

  Rain nods. “Many people have had this experience. When they’re so close to death, they experience this…paradise.” He chuckles and drags his hand through his hair. “The government tries so hard to knock God out of our heads, but there’s no use. He’s always there. He’s always going to be there, calling out to us. ‘Even if they keep quiet, the rocks will cry out.’”

  I’ve never really learned about God. I’ve only heard Dad talk about him occasionally, and usually those conversations were filled with bitterness and resentment. And yet, God called out to me, through nature, through the wind. All I had to do was take the time to listen, and he spoke.

  But I haven’t felt his presence since that vision. Since I came to the ashen city. When I need to hear his voice most, why does he evade me? It makes me doubt. It makes me angry. It makes me wonder if I should trust that I heard him, or accept that it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

  We sit a while longer in companionable silence, lost in our own thoughts. And I take a moment to study Rain, this mysterious boy who antagonized me, kept me company, betrayed me and then saved me, and now seems to understand me completely.

  Gray is such a plain color, but I’m just now realizing the depth of Rain’s eyes. How the spring sunlight almost gives them specks of silver. He begins humming in that beautifully haunting voice. I just barely recognize the tune, and I try to remember where I’ve heard this song, when he looks at me and begins singing the words.

  Ember, oh Ember, you are like a flower in December, Ember.

  Ember, oh Ember, you are like a flower in the snow.

  Embarrassment heats up my neck. It’s the song. The song he wrote for me when he was trying to convince me to work with the Resurgence. Now that I am actually working for them, willingly, the song sounds more appealing than it did the first time I heard it. And Rain’s voice washes over me like a summer storm.

  When nothing else will grow, You come up out of the snow.

  When nothing else will bloom, And there is only—

  Ember, remember, You’re a wild fire in December, Ember,

  Ember, Little Ember, So much warmth from one persistent coal.

  He’s looking at me, really looking at me, and I realize, the reason I don’t feel like I love Forest anymore is because there’s another who tugs at my heart with a fiercer passion. A darker force. A more intimidating being that I should never ever admit that I like. Because he makes the blood course through my veins like a raging river and makes my brain think a thousand thoughts and zero thoughts all at once.

  Without realizing it, I’m leaning in, as though drawn by some magnetic force, and I think, I should probably look away right now, walk off before Rain laughs in my face, but I can’t because his eyes are hypnotic and I wonder what it would feel like to press my lips against his, but then I don’t have to wonder it because suddenly. They are.

  He’s kissing me.

  Rain is kissing me. And he’s got his arms wrapped around my waist and he’s pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. His fingers slide up my spine beneath my shirt, and breathing once again feels overrated because all I want is Rain. All of him. Every little drop. Mine. I’m clinging to him, and I don’t think I will ever let him go. I think I will keep him right here, his body pressed against mine, forever.

  My fingers weave into his auburn hair, and he moans against my lips. And I melt. We soak each
other in for I don’t know how long. I don’t really care because it’s magical. All of it. It’s heavenly and pure bliss, and I almost feel disappointed when he pulls away.

  He stares at me, breathing heavily, his gray eyes filled with need and longing and pure, undiluted love. Love for me.

  “I’ve waited,” he says. “So long to do that.”

  “I thought you didn’t care one wit about me.”

  He swallows hard and shakes his head. “I didn’t want to care for you. You loved Forest and I didn’t want to get between that. I didn’t really ever want to have these wild, uncontrollable feelings for you. Loving someone…it’s so risky. And loving you, you who loved my brother and were wanted dead by Titus…” He shakes his head too many times. “I didn’t want that kind of heartache.”

  I reach up and caress his face, and he closes his eyes, leans into my palm. And I want to tell him that I’ve been doing the exact same thing—fighting my feelings toward him—and if he had just quit acting like a complete jackal, I might have admitted my attraction toward him a lot sooner, but when he opens his eyes, he seems to understand. No explanation necessary.

  “I’ve always been attracted to you, Ember.”

  “Even with this ridiculous hair?”

  He pulls my cap off and runs his fingers through my short, short hair. “Especially with this ridiculous hair.” His eyes find mine again. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you punched me in the prison arena.”

  And I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. Because if I knew then what I know now…I just…I can’t.

  And Rain. He’s grinning. Ear to ear. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. And it’s that dazzling smile that makes my bones melt and my head spin and my heart beat just a little too fast. He runs both hands through my short hair, cups the back of my head.

  And kisses me again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Later that night, after a bit more planning, almost everyone goes to sleep and I realize it’s getting late and I should probably go to bed, too. Big day tomorrow. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn, and I need to get all the rest I can if I want to be useful and not cranky. But as I make my way to my tent, I pass Aurora’s tent. She must still be awake, because it’s illuminated inside, the flicker of the lamp casting shadows against the tent canvas.

  I look at Mcallister in question. He mouths the words I wouldn’t. But…we’re leaving tomorrow. And I haven’t had a real one-on-one conversation with Aurora, well, pretty much since she attacked me. As much as I dislike her, she did take time to answer Elijah’s questions, and she was compliant with Rain, so I feel like maybe I should at least thank her.

  Ignoring Mcallister’s warning, I step toward the tent and whisper, “Can I come in?”

  Silence. A prick of disappointment. A knowing shrug from Mcallister. But just when I turn to leave, I hear her say in a barely audible voice, “Yes.”

  I catch my breath, then step into the tent, letting the flap fall over the opening behind me. Aurora is sitting on top of her blanket, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. I glance at her bandaged finger, and feel a prick of shame. She’s been alone the majority of the time, locking herself in this tent and refusing to socialize. How can she do it? How has she not gone mad by the complete loneliness or boredom by now?

  She doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  Those two words coming from her have the strength to force the air out of my lungs. I almost ask her what for—conspiring with Titus? Attacking me? Lying to her country?—when she lifts her eyes to mine.

  “I’m sorry about Forest.”

  Oh. For that I didn’t expect an apology. I shrug. “It’s…okay. I mean, he clearly had feelings for you. It was a two-way deal.”

  “That’s the problem. It wasn’t two-way. I mean, I admire him, and I appreciate his friendship. He was there for me when no one else was. But I was never attracted to him. It was all an act. Titus wanted me to be you, and you were dating Forest. I did it for Titus. But my feelings for Forest stopped at friendship.”

  I jerk my head back. “Does…Forest know?”

  She looks at her hands and twists a loose piece of thread ‘round and ‘round her index finger. “I told him at the beginning. He was very understanding and was good about giving me my space when no one was looking. But it clearly didn’t stop him from having feelings for me.”

  “No. It didn’t. You were me inside a politician’s body. You were the perfect girl.”

  She laughs but there’s no humor in her eyes. “Give him some credit, Ember. Forest is the most compassionate person you or I will ever meet. If he sees a wounded girl, he moves heaven and hell to make things better for her. It’s like his protector instinct kicks in. You were considered safe, and I was his new project to fix.” She shrugs. “His empathy turned into something more than what I was willing to reciprocate.”

  I nod. I feel kind of bad for Forest, but then, he kind of moved on from me so quickly, he probably deserved it.

  “Anyway,” Aurora says. “Did you need something?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I just wanted to thank you for…talking to Elijah. He has wanted to be a politician since he knew what a politician was. Unfortunately, they don’t teach us politics in Proletariat schools.”

  She laughs softly. “That obviously didn’t stop him. He already knows more than what half the Patricians know. Your brother is seriously smart for his age.”

  “Yeah. It can get annoying sometimes. Thanks for also telling Rain where the antitoxin was.”

  She shrugs. “No problem.”

  “How…how did you have the code?”

  “I told you.” She smirks and finally looks at me, her expression guarded once again. “Titus tells me everything.”

  “I know you said that, but…I guess I didn’t realize that Titus would give you every code to every secret room.” He must trust her a lot.

  She looks away. She’s quiet for a long moment. She must be waiting for me to leave, so I turn to go, but then she speaks again, surprising me.

  “He doesn’t give me every code,” she says. She looks at me again, and the walls come down. And for the first time, I feel like I’m looking at a real person. “The place—” Her voice cuts off, and she swallows and tries again. “The place where Titus kept the antitoxin is the exact same place where he kept…me.”

  The revelation hits me like a wave.

  “Wait,” I say, struggling to understand. “Titus kept you locked in a room? In the basement of the capitol?”

  “Not locked.” Her walls of defense are coming back up. “I knew the code to leave. I was being protected.”

  “Did he let you leave?”

  She looks down, furrows her brows. “No. I mean, I could have left if I wanted, but he had me under guard by Defenders, and…he did threaten me a couple times when I told him I wanted to get out.”

  He threatened her? Titus threatened the favored sister?

  “And he kept you down there for…how long?” I ask.

  She licks her lips. “I mean, Father had me locked up since as long as I can remember, Titus just kept me there. So I guess…sixteen years.”

  Sixteen—that’s the length of our entire lives. A wave of compassion rolls over me. I kneel down on the end of her sleeping bag and stare at her. It’s all I can do. Because, being locked in a room for sixteen years had to lead to some sort of insanity or craziness or blind rage or resentment or something. At least it would for me. But Aurora…she seems completely normal, apart from her entitled attitude.

  “So you were alone?” I dare to ask.

  “I had a servant.” She blinks. “A brainless servant who was instructed by Titus not to give me the time of day. She just brought me my dinner, started up the fire in the fireplace every day, cleaned my room. You know. She worked. But she was brainwashed and not very good company. Even if I brainwashed her into talking to me, I know Titus would have taken his anger out on her.”

&nbs
p; “How did you turn out so…normal?”

  “Well…I also had a tutor. She was a Patrician, so she couldn’t be compelled. She used to be a politician and knew all things politics, which is why Titus picked her to teach me. Between her and Titus, I knew enough to lead the country if something happened to him.” She releases a small sigh. “She was the closest thing I had to a mother. But Titus also gave me my own surveillance room. With twenty TVs hooked to the cameras located all over Ky. I could switch channels, watch the city live while I was locked away. I could watch the guests at the parties, eavesdrop on private conversations.” She smirks. “It was my one form of entertainment, really.” Her voice holds the bitter edge of resentment. This is good—getting her to talk about her past. Because I’m not sure, but I think she might hold some bitterness toward Titus.

  “So,” I begin. “Titus and your father locked you up. For sixteen years. For—for what?”

  “I told you. They were protecting me. I’m next in line to rule, so they were keeping me safe from those who might plot to end the Whitcomb line. Like the Resurgence. And see what happened? Only two weeks out of that room, and I’ve already been captured.”

  “But…the Resurgence is led by your uncle. Our uncle,” I say. “And Titus knew that. Jonah won’t allow anyone to lay a finger on you. So in reality Titus was just keeping you hidden for himself. To be his successor if anything happened to him. Not for your protection.”

  She stares at me, as if this was a possibility she’d never considered before.

  “Didn’t he tell you everything about how to lead the government?”

  She nods.

  “So then he was preparing you for leadership, but he wanted the country led exactly the way he was leading it. I mean, you knew people were brainwashed, right?”

  “Of course I did. It’s the only way to keep control.”

  “But—no. Is that what Titus told you? It’s not right.”