My eyes narrowed, but Inessa’s warmed.
“Jutta was my best friend.” Her face fell when she said my mother’s name.
I flinched.
Hearing my mother’s name was always like a slap in the face. Worse still, the last person who spouted it at me in an attempt to find comradery was Arstid. And Triven’s mother was the last person I wanted to be thinking about right now. She had been right about me—I was a loose cannon, a temporarily leashed wild dog waiting to lash out. I pulled my legs further into myself trying to contain the rage percolating beneath my calm façade. I had had some control before, but tonight… tonight I was anything but in control. I shouldn’t be allowed near them—near anyone again. My stomach ached with sickness as their shocked faces flashed behind my lids.
“Don’t do that.” Inessa’s voice was a whisper.
“Do what?” I bit back misplacing my anger.
“Blame yourself.” She was staring at me.
I glared back at her. “How about you let me handle my own issues and just continue on with your little stories!”
She actually cringed, her aged eyes looking hurt. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Everyone here was so sensitive.
“I’m sorry.” I muttered into my drink and took a sip in a gesture to prove my sincerity.
“I sometimes forget you’re no longer the little girl whose hair I used to braid.” She said.
“Sometimes I wonder if that child ever existed.” I stared at the swirling liquid, mesmerized by its languid movement. “All I have seen is the soldier child prodigy. A weapon.”
“Oh she did exist, and she was so much more than a weapon.” Inessa smiled with memories. “And as much as I miss that little girl, I admire the woman she became. Your mother would have too.”
Again, with my mother… I did roll my eyes this time. “You do realize the woman you speak of is little more than a fairytale to me? I have seen her face a thousand times and still I know almost nothing about her. Her face has haunted my dreams for over six years. Her words are the only reason I continued to fight for my survival.” A tiny bubble of rage rose in my chest. “I am not sure if I should thank her or curse her for imploring me to survive this hell.”
“You mother and father gave their lives so that you could live—”
I cut her off, “My mother and father abandoned me in a shit city with practically nothing! I had no memories. No allies. I had been alone for six years! I might have survived but to what point?! They left me with nothing but hate and fear all because they were, what… some kind of martyrs?! Arrogant militants who made a rash decision that got dozens of people killed along with themselves!”
I was practically screaming when I finally managed to staunch the pent-up words of resentment pouring from my mouth. In all my years alone, I never realized how truly angry I was at them for leaving me.
Inessa’s words were barely a whisper. “You don’t really believe that do you?”
I stared hard at a fabric pill on the sofa’s seat by my little toe. The anger was subsiding, but my chest still ached with pain. I closed my eyes. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
“Can I tell you about them?” Inessa asked hesitantly.
I wanted to tell her to screw off and leave me alone. I also desperately wanted to know about the people who had raised me. I compromised by saying nothing. After a few minutes, Inessa took my silence as consent.
14. KINDRED
“JUTTA WAS MY oldest and truest friend. Until she died, my life had never existed without her in it. We were born three days apart, your mother first of course. She always had to do everything first.” Inessa smiled, her eyes glistening in the dark. “Leyla—your grandmother—died during childbirth. It was a rare thing for that to happen in those days—what with our technologies—but sometimes the body just stops. It gives up without warning or reason and the truth is no amount of science can save a body that doesn’t want to live anymore. I wonder sometimes if it’s because she knew too late what a monster she had married. Either way, The Minister blamed your mother for Leyla’s death.
“Unlike you, your mother was not born out of a love-bound marriage, but one of genetic opportunity. The Minister searched every citizen for a woman who could produce the most superlative genetic offspring. Leyla proved to be his best potential match. But when she died, all of his hopes of producing a male heir died with her. You see, as by law, not even The Minister can remarry in the circumstance of spousal death. One mate. One chance. That is all we are given.”
Population control, I thought. With no room to expand the population it had to be controlled. Out in Tartarus children rarely lived to see adulthood, so reproduction was never an issue. But here with modern medicines and limited resources it had to be regulated.
Inessa’s long fingers toyed around the rim of her mug. “Jutta may have been the Minister’s daughter, but he never saw her as his progeny. She was smart and resourceful, but never showed any interest in combat. Your mother was never taken into her father’s inner circles. She was never trained to be a soldier. He ignored her and she resented him. Jutta knew little of how far his control extended both inside and outside of this city, but she knew of his corruption. Despite his glowing demeanor with the public, she saw what he was behind closed doors. One of the benefits of being invisible to her father was that he never noticed just how much she overheard.”
Inessa shook her head. Her eyes glazed with memories from the past. “He treated Jutta like a plague for many years. Naturally she became rebellious. Eventually, that rebelliousness lead to mutiny. Many people blindly loved The Minister for upholding this false utopia. So many more hated him for it. Your mother was at the top of the second list. She even took your father’s surname to further distance herself from Fandrin. It’s rare for spouses to do that anymore and considered disrespectful of one’s lineage. We are only allowed two children; the first bears the father’s name, the second bears the mother’s. Your mother chose neither. It did, however, prove beneficial when the rebels began to form. They might not have followed Jutta had they known her birthright.”
“Why couldn’t my mother have been an heir? It seems archaic that only a man could rule. Especially for a society that claims to be utopian.” I bristled at the idea of being found inferior because I was born with different reproductive organs. I knew Inessa was only trying to distract me from my inner demons. Despite myself it was working.
Her eyebrows stitched together as she met my gaze. “I forget how little you know about our ways. Women are seen as equals in all ventures. We work alongside men—fight with them, clean with them, cook with them, program with them, rear children with them. The Ministry’s council used to be comprised of an equal number of males and females. Six in total. They were a system of supports, meant to help guide and challenge the hand of the reigning Minister. Each of these members was selected at random on a rotating timeline to serve two years, before returning to their normal lives.
“The position of The Minister was the only constant in the group, that way with the rotations of the council at least one person was always unvarying. That role was meant to serve as the control—it created the tipping vote. And it was the only position passed on by blood. The original idea was that the bloodline represented resilience and unity. That together our lineage could survive. For many years it worked, because despite being the face of The Sanctuary, The Ministers could always be outvoted by their council if he or she was found incompetent.”
I nodded at her that I followed.
“Over the last century, however, Ministers began to find proof that council members were ‘corrupt’. Your great-grandfather began inquisitions into council members who did not agree with him. They were accused of wanting to overthrow the system—to rule the city and destroy the utopia we had created. There always seemed to be a damning amount of evidence compiled against them. Those that were found guilty were thrown out of The Sanctuary.
“The Minister was portra
yed as a hero for outing the supposedly corrupt council members. Grateful for his righteousness, civilians began to call for new edicts. The Minister’s face was the one they had grown up seeing, trusting—so for the first time in our history the people gave him total power over the selecting the council. Now, The Minister can hand pick his council members and the positions are for life.”
“That doesn’t explain why my grand—” My throat tightened stopping me from finishing the word. I forced a cough to loosen the restricting muscles. “He refused to recognize my mother.”
Inessa held up a hand signifying she was getting there. “Sometimes you need to understand the past to prepare for the future. In the past we have had female Ministers, but the last three were all male. By sheer happenstance. Your grandfather wanted nothing more than to uphold this family legacy. He wanted a male heir to live in his image. He saw women as weaker, inferior creatures that could never live up to the standards he thought a ruler should uphold. It wasn’t until he began to train you that he saw potential in a female heir.”
My heartbeat was pounding in my throat. Too well, I remembered the way he had stared at me as if I were a prize. A thousand bugs crawled beneath my skin. The idea of having any potential to be like that man repulsed me.
“If The Minister basically abandoned her, who raised my mother?” For the first time I felt a small pang of kindred spirit with the woman whose face I saw every night. She too had been alone—parentless just like me.
“My mother,” Inessa answered with an air of pride in her voice. “My mother was a caregiver. It was her job to help raise and educate the youngest children if their parents could no longer provide such supervision. Most children stayed with us only part time while their parents were working, leaving when they were old enough to be placed into society schools. Jutta however, lived with us nearly full time. She wasn’t just raised as my playmate, but as my sister.”
My heartbeat was escalating as my head blurred with information. I pulled at the strings connected to my lost memories, but they still provided nothing. I stared hard at Inessa’s face trying to force some thought, some recollection, but as always, there was nothing. Everything this woman was telling me could be a lie and I had no way to disprove her. My defensive, untrusting mind screamed at my heart to shut her up, to make her stop talking. But my heart ached to hear more.
Inessa continued, unaware of my turbulence.
“My mother knew what Jutta might be some day—that she could be the next ruling Minister—despite Fandrin’s oppositions. So everyday, after the other children left, my mother educated both of us with banned teachings. We read books that were supposed to have been burned. We talked about countries and wars that happened centuries ago. We even talked about governments and liberties. Back then I thought it was an exciting game we had to keep quiet about. In truth, what my mother did was considered treason. She would have been exiled for it. We all could have been.” She shuddered. “Exiles were cruel and obscenely public then. Now we watch videos of the accused being dragged away by soldiers, never to be seen again. Ryker told me the exiled are sent to the Ravagers as part of the payment for their services. Innocent people are sold as prey to entertain those monsters.”
I felt sick. How many of those screams from the hunted had I ignored over the years? How many of those people had been citizens from The Sanctuary? I dropped my head onto my knees. Why not pile that on too? Just one more horrific thing added to an already guilty conscience.
“Those public exiles were actually what brought your parents together.” Inessa said thoughtfully, continuing as if she had not just proclaimed that my grandfather was selling off human victims to a gang of leather-clad, pierced savages.
“That doesn’t seem to say much about my parents, does it?” I muttered, revulsion rising in the back of my throat. “I would think exiling a person to Tartarus doesn’t exactly exude romance for most people.”
“It wasn’t romance that brought Jutta and Coen together, sweetheart.” Inessa pinned me with a fierce stare. I winced at hearing my parents’ names together like that. I barely thought them, much less said them aloud. “We were twenty when it happened. A supposed group of traitors had been found and the entire city was gathered to witness their banishment. There were seven people that had been found guilty that day. Never before had so many been banished together.” She paused here, hand fluttering to her mouth as she gathered herself. Her voice was a little thicker when she continued.
“One was your mother’s good friend from our childcare days. Another was your father’s brother. It was all very ceremonial. The guilty are supposed to accept their fate and stand at the mouth to the city as the gates close, locking them out. But there were so many of them and tensions were too high. Three of the exiled panicked and tried to run back before the doors closed. They were shot on the spot. The automated doors pushed their dead bodies back. The bodies tumbled and rolled onto the others still stuck on the other side. Limbs were caught in the doors. The survivors screamed and clawed at the opening to get back in. There was so much screaming.” She stroked her ear as if trying to quiet the screams from her past. “The intent of the mass exile had been to scare us into submission, but when the soldiers opened fire, outrage erupted in the crowd. Some citizens rushed the soldiers. Others ran fearing for their lives. Seventeen people were killed that day. Some were shot by soldiers. Some were trampled in the chaos. Any of those who remained combative afterward were put in solitary until deemed rehabilitated.”
I flashed back to my personal experiences of The Minister’s ideas of rehabilitation. My lungs struggled to work.
“It was the first outbreak of violence The Sanctuary had ever seen within its walls. The Ministry blamed the deaths on insubordination and fear. ‘Chaos is what happens when citizens don’t trust in their leaders…’” Inessa mocked The Minister’s deep voice as she rolled her eyes. “The old tyrant meant to quell ideas of rebellion, but really all he did was spark a fire. Your mother and father met through their shared hatred for her father...”
I had stopped listening. There was something nagging at my mind. Something she said that didn’t add up. “If there was a location where they exiled people… why have I never seen this passageway?”
Inessa opened her mouth, but it was a deep voice behind me that answered. “Because it was that tunnel the rebels tried to escape through. The tunnel The Minister caved in on top of their heads to condemn those who rose against him. It was the tunnel that brought you and me into Tartarus.” Triven sat down next to me.
Mae had healed his nose. Aside from a few bruises on his neck he looked unscathed. The mug began to shake precariously in my hands. I searched his eyes wanting to say something, but no words came.
Inessa cleared her throat and spoke softly to break the heavy silence. “I think maybe that’s enough family history for tonight.”
She rose from her chair and stretched. Walking toward us, she lifted a hand as if to place it on my shoulder but then thought better. Instead, she gently touched Triven’s cheek before she took my still half-full mug. “Goodnight you two. Try and get some rest.”
We watched as she descended down the passageway.
“Mouse is going to stay with Mae and Inessa tonight.” I nodded staring at Triven’s chest. “She wanted to stay with us—”
“No!” I jumped backward putting up my hands in defense before calming my tone. “No. I think it’s better if she stays with them for a little while… Triven, you should—”
“I am not leaving you.”
There was a finality to his words that even I couldn’t challenge. Triven stood up and walked to the passageway before pausing. The message was clear. He wasn’t leaving without me. Slowly, I rose and followed suit. We walked in our customary silence to the room. Someone had replaced our sheets, any trace of Triven’s spilled blood now vanished. Almost as if it never happened. Almost. The room seemed much bigger without Mouse’s bed in it. I stared at the space where her bed had sat.
Her frightened face pierced my thoughts.
Brushing past Triven as he pulled off his long-sleeved shirt, I climbed into our bed, pressing myself as tightly against the wall as possible. Triven switched off the lights, casting the room into darkness. As he moved in the blackness, I pressed my forehead to the cool stone wall. I bit my lip when the bed shifted beneath me. At first, he was careful not to touch me, but as I pulled farther away his arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I twisted, grabbing the metal frame of the cot. My body jolted as a metal spur bit into the flesh of my palm. I didn’t let go. Instead, I gripped it tighter.
Pain was real.
Pain could keep me awake.
Better my blood than his.
“Prea, I know that you could get through this on your own. That you could push everything that has caused you pain away and become the girl who needs no one again. I know that you don’t need me.” He swallowed. “But I need you. And despite how strong you are, we are better together.”
“If I hurt you again—”
He cut me off. “I’d deserve it.”
I let go of my hold on the frame and twisted in his arms. His breath was hot on my face. Our noses were almost touching. Even in the dim light, I could see his bright eyes.
“How could you say that?” I searched his face for an answer.
“I left you.” His turned his eyes down in shame. “I should have made you jump first. I should have climbed back out and pulled you in with us… but I didn’t. I left you.”
There were so many things I was angry about. So many things that were eating away at me, but this was not one of them. Hesitantly, I touched his face. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips as I trailed them over his temple. “You did what I asked you to do. What I needed you to do. You saved Mouse. You saved yourself… Triven, the only thing that got me through that hell was knowing somewhere out there you and Mouse were alive. Free.”
New World Ashes Page 11
