by Casey Hays
Chad shrugs. “Does it matter?”
One simple question.
Thoughtful, I turn away, and this time, I pay particular attention to the other caves as I pass by. One male after another raises his eyes to watch me. I don’t allow myself to linger long on their dirty, scruffy faces, and a slight panic edges into my gut. These males are just one gate away from freedom. One gate away from confronting me face to face. And what’s to stop them?
Chad does not scare me. Of course, I’ve learned enough to know I don’t need to fear him. But these strange males? What might they do with their freedom? This thought increases my fear, and I pick up my pace, scanning for a jailer.
When I reach the main door of the barracks, it is not only unlocked but ajar. I pause for a moment, my fingertips pressed against it before I hesitantly ease it further open.
“Hello?”
No answer. I frown. Something isn’t right here.
I pull the door wide and step into a common area. One wall holds a line of shelves stocked with containers of dried meat, some boiled eggs, a jar of water, and a half-eaten loaf of very stale bread. I spin in a slow circle, taking in the room. It’s small with hard wood floors. I don’t know what I expected, but it’s surprisingly clean. On another shelf bowls and cups are stacked neatly, and a table in the center is polished to brightness. I take a container of meat, a few eggs, and the water.
A door at the far end suddenly bursts open, and a very surprised jailer halts in the doorway, shock lighting her eyes.
“What in the name of the stars are you doing in here, girl?” The jailer moves forward. “Stealing?”
I freeze, my fingers tightening around the smooth shell of an egg I’ve just selected. Quickly I slip it into my pouch.
“No—” I begin. She yanks the container of meat from my grip and moves in for the jar of water tucked under my arm. “My mate,” I say hurriedly. “He hasn’t eaten today.”
She pauses, her rude eyes narrowing. “And since when do his needs matter to you? It is not your duty to provide for him.”
“I know, but—”
She cuts me off with a sharp tug on the jar. It slips free.
“Are you one of them, then?”
“What?”
She sneers at me. “One of those who’s decided her place isn’t good enough.”
I shake my head, baffled. “No. I just—”
“A rebel?” The name is an ugly word on her tongue.
“No,” I shake my head again. “My mate is hungry, and I said I would bring him something to eat. Nothing more.”
The anger in her eyes deepens, and she takes another step closer to peer down at me. Suddenly small and frightened, I shrink beneath her heavy glare.
“Your mate eats when I say he eats.”
I can’t breathe. She eases back. I step around her to the door.
“Don’t let me ever find you in here again, breeder.”
I push out of the barracks and scurry toward Chad’s cave, trying my best not to run. As I round the corner, I spot another jailer at the far end of the Pit pushing the food cart. Confused, I scan the rest of the Pit, but there is no one else.
Inside the cave, Chad takes the confiscated egg and devours it immediately, barely taking the time to shell it. I settle onto the edge of his mat, ringing my hands. Two jailers. This is all I’ve seen here today. Where are the others? I glance once again at the broken lock. What of the Council? Do they know that the Pit is unsecured? Have the jailers reported it? Perhaps I should go back to the barracks and ask.
I climb to my feet, wary. I don’t like the idea of facing the awful jailer again.
“I’ll come again later,” I tell Chad as I push open the gate, not bothering to close it once I’ve passed through. He merely watches me go, savoring the last little bit of his egg.
Chapter 3
I
can’t bring myself to confront the jailer. She scowls at me as I pass by the barracks, so I simply scurry past and take to the ladder. And it’s not until I’m halfway back to the Village that I decide to go straight to the Council myself. Not that this is any less intimidating.
The Council’s private meeting room is located at the east end of the Great Hall. Two enormous mahogany doors separate it from the main assembly room, and when I knock, the booming sound of my tiny knuckles against the wood causes me to shrink back. I swallow, waiting.
I’ve never seen the inside of the meeting room. I’ve never had reason to come before, and as the minutes sneak past, I quickly remind myself that there’s still time to retreat. I don’t have to play the hero. I could take my leave, crawl back to my hogan, and forget everything I encountered in the Pit today. It could be that easy to simply not care.
I furrow my brow, frustrated. And just as I come to the conclusion that maybe I should say nothing for once, the door heaves open, planting my mission firmly in place. I stand very still staring up into the surprised eyes of Eleanor, the Bear.
“Yes?”
The councilwoman’s fingers curl around the edge of the door as she assesses me. I try to smile.
“Hello. I’m Mia,” I remind her. My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “I need to speak with Tara, please.”
Eleanor frowns. “Tara is indisposed. Perhaps I can help.”
“Oh. Of course. Well—”
I stop, unsure how to begin. Frankly, I hadn’t thought this part of my message through. Eleanor frowns again.
“What is it, girl? I must return to the meeting.”
I take a deep breath. “Something has happened at the Pit.”
Eleanor raises a brow and pushes the door wider. Behind her, I see the others gathered around a long, wooden table at the far end of the room.
“And what might that be?”
By now, the other women have stopped their chattering and turned in their seats, curious as to what has disrupted their meeting. I ease back a tiny step.
“The gates,” I begin. “They’re open. All the locks are broken, and—I only saw two jailers.”
Eleanor purses her lips before she nods. “Yes. We know.”
“You—” I stop, confused. “Then, what’s to be done?”
“What is it, Eleanor?” someone calls out. Eleanor answers over her shoulder, not taking her eyes from me.
“It’s Mia. She has some concerns about the gates in the Pit.”
The heavy scraping of a chair is the answer, and then Tara comes into view.
“Let her in.”
Eleanor steps back a pace, pulling the door wider. Hesitantly, I step into the room. Tara comes around the side of the table.
“Mia? You have a report?”
“Yes,” I nod. “The locks have been broken on all the gates in the Pit. And the stock are not being fed. It appears several jailers are not at their posts. I wasn’t certain you’d been notified of the situation.”
“Yes, we are aware,” Tara raises a brow. “We are diligently working to remedy the situation.” When I sigh in relief, Tara pushes her brows together, frowning. “Still, I’d say bringing news of something we are quite aware of is... useless.”
I meet her eyes, that old fear mounting. I have never had too many interactions with Tara. She has always been the silent second-in-command, a background figure who only had power when Mona allowed it. Now, my voice is small when I speak.
“I—I have nothing more to report. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
I take a backward step.
“It appears Kate’s rebellion has done more than unlock gates.”
I stop in my tracks, hold my breath. Tara casts her eyes toward the other councilwomen briefly before returning her gaze to me. When I don’t answer, she huffs, a deep sound in her chest.
“No word from her, then?”
The women shuffle, all eyes focused on me. I swallow.
“No. I told you this earlier. Kate is gone. I have had no communication with her.”
My voice squeaks, and I nervously dig my big to
e into the wood floor while Tara stares me down, anger dancing fiercely in her eyes. I dare not move a muscle.
“Mia.”
I flick my eyes toward the voice. It’s Leah. I mentally shuffle through the signs until I remember hers. The Lion. Other than Anna Maria, she is most certainly the kindest council member of them all. She leaves the table and comes to me.
“Let’s take a walk.”
Tara puffs her chest in protest, but Leah ignores this, edging around her to rest an arm over my shoulders.
“I’ll return shortly,” Leah offers with a wave of her hand. “Carry on without me.”
She ushers me out.
“Was that wise?” I whisper once the solid door thuds into place. Leah only smiles.
“Tara is not our leader, as much as she pretends to be.”
“She isn’t?” I’m surprised by this. “But I thought…”
“Oh, yes,” Leah nods. “She is second-in-command, which gives her some authority over the Village. Not over the Council. She must concede to our authority as a whole until a unanimous decision is made concerning our next leader.” She leans in, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Kate left us in a fix, and we’re having quite a time agreeing on a solution.”
We exit the assembly room, simultaneously squinting in the setting sun.
“But… why would that matter?” I inquire, confusion clear in the question. “Fate will decide, will it not?”
Her eyes flick toward me, a keen glint of some underlying knowledge. But whatever I see disappears as quickly as it came.
“Yes. Of course it will.”
The smells of supper waft on the air, and my stomach grumbles on cue. Leah walks a few paces ahead of me on the path, her long, sandy hair rolled at the nape of her neck. Though not as light as Diana’s, her skin is lighter than most. A creamy brown that I have always admired up next to my bronzed complexion. I set my pace to hers.
“You’re the third person to report to us about the gates.”
I study her. “I am?”
“Yes. Of course, our suspects are long gone.” For a moment, her eyes turn tender with sadness. “So much happened the day of Mona’s death. We were completely caught off guard, you know.” She smiles again, trying to regain some of her formality. “So. You’re holding to your conviction?”
I blink. “What?”
“To keep Kate from us.”
I sigh. “Leah, I don’t know where she is. I left her just there.” I point toward the path that leads to the clearing. “She and Diana said their goodbyes, and it was the last time I saw them.”
“So this… banishment Kate proclaimed. You believe she followed through?”
I shake my head in resignation, casting my eyes to the ground. “If anyone had the courage to do so, it would be her.”
Leah nods. “She’s always been strong-willed.” She eyes me. “She left with those boys I have no doubt.”
I purse my lips, but I nod. “And what did Tara mean just now? About Kate’s rebellion?”
I would never dare to ask anyone else. But this is Leah, and she’s kind and caring and approachable. We walk a few paces more before she sighs.
“The jailers aren’t the only ones choosing to defy Fate.”
I crease my brows, puzzled. “Who else, then?”
She shakes her head. “A majority of the gardeners are refusing to plant a new crop. And several nannies have left the nursery. It is becoming quite a headache for the Council. And every day the problem grows.”
Her voice sounds too casual, and this only adds to my shock. My hand inadvertently scrambles to my throat as a lump grows there. This is unimaginable. Are the women so bold? How can they defy Fate after Kate was severely punished by the gods for her own defiance? Even after her bold words, this should have been a warning to all of us to keep our proper places.
Another more temporal fear suddenly comes tumbling over me. If the gardeners have stopped tilling, who will be next? What if the hunters refuse to hunt? Or the cooks decide they are finished preparing our meals? How will we ever survive?
These thoughts shove me toward a harsh panic that stops me in my spot.
“Mia?” Leah, full of concern, turns back to take my elbow. “Are you all right?”
I clamp my eyes tightly, sucking in another lungful of breath. And in answer to her question, I pose another, my voice loud and erratic.
“Why are the gates still open?”
In defense to my sudden fear of starvation, this irrelevant thought is what leaks to the forefront of my mind. The stock. There they sit, one step away from freedom, and no one has taken measures to repair the locks. And I would feel so much better if someone would do so. Perhaps then, my small world would right itself some, if only a little.
Two women on their way to the dining hall, toss me a glance as they pass, but with the calm demeanor she always exhibits, Leah tugs my arm gently.
“Come, Mia.”
I stand firm.
“Why, Leah?” I ask again. “If there is so much chaos abounding in the Village, don’t you think locking the gates would be the first call to order?”
She quietly steers me away from the gaping eyes and into the shadow of the dining hall, and her voice seeps with pure understanding when she speaks.
“It’s been six days since someone broke open all the gates,” she says quietly, “And not one male has attempted to leave his cage.” She shakes her head, lifts upraised palms slightly. “The stock know their place.”
She chuckles, and I don’t know what to make of it. The sound seems out of place in light of this conversation. But my shoulders relax as her words take form in my brain. The stock know their place, as we all should.
“So the gates will remain unlocked?”
“Of course not.” She lowers herself to the ground and leans against the side of the building. “But I must say, I am enjoying the experiment.” She glances up at me with a sly smile. “Locks are only needed to keep something in that won’t stay put, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” I shrug. Leah takes a breath, studies her hands.
“The current number of stock requires us to repair just less than half of the two-hundred locks for the time being.”
“And?” I settle beside her.
“And… the locksmiths have banded together, refusing to work until a true leader is in place.”
“Oh,” I let the reality of this sink in.
“We have tried to negotiate with them, but they will not be persuaded.”
“Why do you not simply order all of them… the jailers, gardeners, locksmiths… to return to their duties?”
“It is not so simple, Mia. There are eleven of us and several hundred of you.”
“Mona managed,” I remind her.
“And not one of us is Mona,” she concedes. She looks off into the trees, her voice growing distant. “Only one name was in that box.”
My stomach dances with a sudden and unexpected excitement when she says this. She glances at me sidelong.
“We know what they called Kate. The Rebel Breeder?” She smiles. “It was a cute epithet.” She pauses, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You would tell me… if the breeders were up to something?”
Eyes wide, I stare at her. “Why would you think they were?”
“Is it so hard to imagine they might join the fray?”
I shake my head insistently. “None of us have plans to defy the Village.”
“I would hope not, Mia,” Leah says gently. “This duty matters more than any other.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Good.” She hoists herself to her feet. “Good.”
“What would the Council do?” I dare to pose the question, and Leah peers down at me, a slight trepidation lighting her eyes. “If there was a rebellion among the breeders? Would they... dispose of us all?”
My voice squeaks involuntarily on the last syllable, and Leah emits a small laugh.
“Goodness no, girl,�
�� she replies. “Disposal was Mona’s answer to most things. It served her well, I suppose. Tara may be like-minded in extreme circumstances, but she also listens to reason.” She pauses, crossing her arms. “Executing even a small portion of the life-giving branch of our clan would not be wise. Which is why the Council is working diligently to staunch all the small disturbances that have cropped up, including securing the stock as soon as possible.” She studies me, eyes intent. “Until then, I need you, Mia. To be my eyes and ears.”
My mouth parts slightly. So this is it. This is why she pulled me so quickly out of the Great Hall. Slowly, I rise to meet her eye to eye.
“Why should I do this for you?”
“Because… ” She reaches for my hand, squeezes. “I’m one of the few Council members who believes Kate just may have had a point. Maybe...” She hesitates, her voice suddenly transforming into a whisper. “We should have a choice.”
My shock is quick, but Leah holds my gaze. A slight fear ripples through her expression and falls away as she straightens, composing herself.
“Okay,” I whisper in return.
My response is involuntary. She squeezes my hand again with a wink, sealing the pact we’ve just made.
As to whether it was with or against the Council is still a bit fuzzy.
Chapter 4
B
y midweek, I can’t keep myself from the Pit another day. I’d like to say it’s curiosity that draws me back earlier than usual, but I would be deceiving myself. Leah assured me that the Council would have a solution for the lack of jailers soon, but still, I find myself worrying for Chad.
I blame Kate for coaxing this attribute out of me.
Chad lumbers to his feet the moment the gate clanks shut behind me. He looks much cleaner and shaven, and he assures me that he’s had at least one meal a day since I last saw him. But he takes the bowl of duck stew from my hands eagerly enough.
I sit silently next to him and watch him devour every drop. When he’s finished, he hands me the bowl, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, a grin appearing.
