Linked

by K. R. Fajardo

  But the change in conversation did seem to perk up Nina and Lucas who both looked delighted at the idea. “That sounds wonderful,” Nina said, smiling up at her husband. “Lucas plays beautifully, you will absolutely love it and Kajol … he will be so happy to hear his father play without having to fear him being arrested.”

  “Then spread the word,” K joined in, finally dropping her scowl. “Let everyone know there will be a gathering tonight here at the Core,” she smiled wickedly up at Jaron, “and an exhibition tomorrow at the Pit. There you will see firsthand what Full-bloods are truly capable of doing.”

  Jaron swallowed hard, he had a bad feeling he was going to end up on the wrong end of this exhibition.

  “We will,” Nina replied excitedly. “See the two of you tonight then.”

  K and Jaron nodded and watched until the couple was out of sight. K then spun around and punched Jaron in the shoulder—not enough to knock him down, just enough to hurt like hell. He grabbed his arm and rubbed it up and down. “Which infraction was that for?”

  “Both, breaking my rule and the wine comment.” She glared at him as a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  He smiled back. “I thought I had lost you there for a moment. I figured if nothing else, that would get your attention.”

  Her expression became much more serious. “You had, thank you for bringing me back down.” She glanced up the hill where Nina and Lucas had walked off. “I know sooner or later I’m going to have to deal with this, I just don’t think I can do it right now.”

  “Then wait and let’s enjoy tonight. I think we could all use a little pick me up.” Jaron turned and headed in the direction of the southern trail. “I’ll spread the word through the Pit and supply areas if you want to tell the fields and the housing area.”

  K pulled the hood back over her head and started down the western trail toward the fields. Jaron watched and waited until she was halfway down it before shouting after her, “Oh, and don’t forget to pass by and let Casper know.”

  She spun around so quick it caused her head to begin pounding again, and by the time she had recovered Jaron was long gone. Shaking her head, K turned and headed down the path smiling to herself. Oh, yes my old friend, you are definitely going to pay for that.

  ***

  Word of the gathering spread like wild fire and everyone worked together to begin preparing for the evenings activities. Women and children gathered colorful flowers from the surrounding fields, then wove them together to form wreaths and garland that would be used to decorate the Core. The cooks spent the rest of the afternoon preparing their best dishes and baking fresh loaves of bread for everyone to eat. And the men gathered and stacked towering logs into the fire pit then lined the middle and outside with kindling to make lighting it easier. The ease and efficiency in which everyone worked to pull it all together by night fall would have rightly made the Shadows furious with envy.

  Citera and Dirik spent the afternoon together moving from one area to another helping wherever they were needed. They started in the forest, gathering large loads of kindling and hauling them back to the Core, where the Full-blood men were busy splitting giant logs. Dirik couldn’t resist the temptation to place a friendly side wager. He considered the options and went for the long shot, placing a five dinar bet on one of the new Full-bloods from Janil’s most recent group, a man who went by the name of Gregor. He wasn’t a tall man or very impressive to look at which stacked the odds against him. But he had spent the last thirty years tunneling through the mountains of Vanteria with a hand pick and it took him merely one well aimed swing of his axe to split a massive tree clean in half and win Dirik twenty dinar. Dirik, who was so excited to have won the bet, generously decided to divide the winnings with an extremely confused but very grateful Gregor, who had probably never been paid that much money at once for anything in his entire life.

  After carrying their third and final load of kindling down the hill, the two of them then headed toward the cooking tent where they assisted the ladies there with peeling and cutting vegetables, kneading bread, and stirring pots. The Terrian ladies who ran the kitchen went about directing and teaching the Full-bloods, and anyone else who was interested, the fine art of cooking. The Full-bloods in turn proved themselves eager students, often grasping the new knowledge surprisingly fast, then assisting to adapt the various recipes to suit the more delicate stomachs of the Full-bloods who were working to transition back to normal food.

  As they worked the women of the kitchen exchanged old folk tales, legends, and songs of their culture. On any day of the week their songs could be heard radiating from the tent bringing cheer and happiness to whosevers ears it landed on. It was because of this Citera made it a regular habit of working in the cooking tent at least two or three days a week, with Dirik often joining her. Together they would happily work for hours listening to the older ladies tell their stories of how things had been prior to the Shadows and singing the long forgotten songs of the resistance.

  After finishing up in the kitchen, they headed back down to the Core, where Citera helped some of the other girls her age weave together the mounds of flowers they had collected. Dirik, meanwhile, spent most of his time running around doing whatever he could to impress the abundance of young women gathered in the one location. One minute he was scampering up a pole to hang up some garland, the next he was moving tables around, and when he ran out of manly things to do, he sat down in the midst of a group of girls and began weaving together flowers right along with them.

  Citera did her best to keep herself from laughing out loud as the girls giggled and doted over him. One very persistent pair even managed to corner him temporarily. The blonde, who didn’t appear to bother breathing between sentences as she rambled incessantly, looped her arm through Dirik’s, as her dark-haired partner leaned in close, tangling her fingers in his hair. Dirik, obviously uncomfortable with their closeness, turned several bright shades of red, before politely managing to duck out from under their grasp and disappearing from sight.

  “Doesn’t it make you jealous?” a girl sitting beside her asked as she laughed at Dirik ducking and dodging his way out of the Core.

  “Jealous? Of Dirik? By the stars no, he is like family,” Citera responded, surprised by the question.

  The girl, who Citera knew as Lizi, shrugged and continued weaving. “Well as much time as the two of you spend together I had assumed you were more than just friends. If it was me I would definitely be interested, he is a very handsome after all.”

  Handsome? Dirik? Citera had never really thought of him in that way. She scanned around, trying to locate wherever it was he had taken up hiding from the girls, but without much luck. Giving up, she resumed the weaving, sure he would turn up when he was ready. If there was anything she had learned over these years of living with Dirik it was that if he didn’t want to be found, there was no way you would find him.

  When she had finished with the flowers, Citera headed up the hill to the housing area to begin getting ready for the evenings activities. Halfway to the top Dirik suddenly appeared beside her.

  “Where have you been hiding?” she asked, smiling at his convenient reappearance. “I think your girlfriend and her friend are still looking for you.”

  “She is not my girlfriend. Shena is way too forward, always touching and grabbing me.” Dirik mumbled. “She makes me understand all too well why K doesn’t like to be touched.”

  Citera chuckled. “I’m sure her reasoning is a little more complicated than some man getting overly touchy with her.”

  “I doubt it,” Dirik said seriously. “Haven’t you noticed she is much more relaxed around women? But whenever a man is nearby, even one she is familiar with, like your father or even Jaron, her whole body tenses and stays that way until they are at a comfortable distance.”

  Citera hesitated, taking a moment to consider what he was saying. “I guess I have noticed, but I just didn’t pay that much attention to it. What do you
think it means?”

  “Can’t say for sure and I never would say it to her face, but my guess is at some point a man has hurt her very badly.” Dirik sighed. “She reminds me a lot of the kids on the streets we used to call spooks. Because they had no family and no one to stand up for them, they were easy targets for the patrols who made a game of sneaking up and grabbing them out of nowhere.” Dirik fell silent for a moment as the memories began to overwhelm him. “The things they made them do, that they made them do to each other …”

  Dirik’s eyes began to water and he took a seat on one of the log benches that lined the path, staring blankly into the moving crowd. Citera silently joined him, giving him the time he needed. He didn’t speak very often of his life on the street, and she could only imagine the horrors he had witnessed over all those years fending for himself. And though she wanted to know more about his life prior to coming to live with them—like who his parents were, what they had been like, or how he managed to make it so long without being caught—Citera knew better than to press him.

  It was a lesson she had learned the hard way many years ago when her mother was still alive. She was being entirely too nosey one day and asked him several questions about his parents. When he didn’t answer she continued to prod and push for a response until he suddenly became extremely agitated. He then yelled at her to mind her own business before storming from the house. It wasn’t until after a couple of days had passed without any word from him that she and her parents began to grow concerned. They spent weeks searching every street and alley in Vicaris for any sign of him without success. Then a month later, after they had given up hope and feared the worst, he suddenly reappeared and jumped right back into life with them like nothing ever happened. They had been so happy to have him back and so scared he would run off again that none of them dared ask where he had been for all that time. From that day on Citera swore that she would never ask him any more questions about his past; she would listen if he wanted to talk, but never again would she try and press him to share more than he wanted.

  “The looks on their faces,” Dirik began again, retrieving her from her memory. “You know how an animal looks that has been beaten its entire life, when they are cowering in a corner knowing what is about to happen? Well, that is the look the spooks had on their faces every day of the week.”

  “That doesn’t sound like K,” Citera said quietly, trying to imagine living with that much fear every day of your life. “Granted she is jumpy and tense, but she doesn’t seem to be afraid and she definitely doesn’t cower.”

  “No, but she does flinch.”

  “Flinch? From who?”

  “Men. And it’s worse with Jaron and the other Full-bloods. It is so slight I doubt most people notice, but after some of the things I have witnessed, I can’t help but see it.” Dirik turned and looked at Citera. “Jaron notices as well, just watch him sometime when he is approaching her. He walks slower, stopping at a comfortable distance, and keeps both of his hands where she can see them, usually flat against his sides or crossed in front of him.”

  Citera thought back to all the times she had watched Jaron and K interact. He was right, Jaron did stop approaching K with almost a ten pace distance between them, allowing her to close the final gap.

  “Do you watch everyone this close or just K?” Citera asked, smiling at him.

  “Are you jealous? Don’t worry; I notice your quirks as well.” Dirik returned her smile. “Like the way you always put your hands on your hips when you are getting impatient, the way you wrinkle your nose up when you are concentrating hard on your work, and lately how you grab your neck whenever someone mentions Jarod’s name.”

  As he finished Citera stopped herself with her hand halfway to her neck and frowned. “I can’t help it.”

  “I know.” Standing, Dirik offered her his hand. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. After all, that scar is proof of how brave you are. Who else would stand alone in a dark hallway and challenge the Enforcer?”

  Citera busted out laughing. “Stupidity is more like it. I don’t consider that one of my finest moments.”

  “There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity,” Dirik remarked, laughing along with her, “but I agree you might have crossed it that day.”

  They were still laughing and talking as they turned the corner and headed up the hill toward their tent. Stepping inside they had managed to get themselves somewhat under control, but were still smiling from ear to ear as Mikel greeted them both. “The pair of you look as if you have been up to no good.”

  “Actually, we have been up to nothing but good all day,” Dirik stated proudly.

  “We have been helping everyone get ready for the party tonight.” Citera paused frowning at him dressed in his lounging clothes. “You are going, aren’t you?”

  Mikel began busily adjusting things that didn’t need adjusting. “I don’t think so, you know that’s not my sort of thing. Besides, Janil brought me a new book back from town and I wanted to get started on it.”

  “Oh come on, Dad, it’s a book, it isn’t going to go anywhere,” Citera pleaded. “K and Jaron only throw these gatherings once every few months and you haven’t gone to one yet. Please, come with us.”

  “Yeah, Mikel, take a day off and come have some fun,” Dirik said, grinning sheepishly. “You might even meet someone you like.”

  “Oh no, no, I couldn’t.” Mikel shook his head rapidly. “I should just stay here and straighten things up.”

  “Dad, it’s a tent, there is only so much straightening you can do.” Citera placed her hands on her hips, trying her best to ignore Dirik as he started giggling like a little kid behind her. “Mom wouldn’t want you sitting around isolating yourself for the rest of your life and you know it. Now get cleaned up and change your clothes, you are going with us and that is final.”

  Mikel glanced from Citera to Dirik trying to get someone on his side. Dirik, however, only shrugged and smiled; even he knew better than to argue with Citera once she had her mind set on something.

  “Oh all right,” Mikel relented.

  Having succeeded in convincing Mikel, it was time to prepare for the party. They filled pails of water from the rain barrel outside and began heating them on the small stove in the tent. Knowing it would take her longer to get dressed than the two of them combined, Citera waited outside and let Dirik and her father go first. While she waited she thought more on what she and Dirik had talked about.

  Her mind flashed back to the bathroom in Vicaris when she had seen the scarring covering K for the first time. The lines that crisscrossed her back, the thick layers that encircled her wrists, and the horrible disfiguring scar that ran across her eye. All were proof of the horrendous suffering she had experienced in her lifetime.

  For twenty years the Heralds had forced her to remain awake in their prison. Thoughts of the things men could do to a woman over that many years sent a shiver down her spine. So why was she finding it so hard to believe that K, like the spooks in Vicaris, exhibited traits of emotional scaring as well as the physical ones?

  Perhaps it was because even in her vulnerable condition back in the clinic, K had amazed her with the strength she wielded and the respect she had demanded of Jaron and Jarod. She hadn’t backed down, even knowing the two of them could have easily taken her, she remained strong in her resolve and she definitely hadn’t flinched. But even if she had flinched, if she had showed fear of the two of them, would that had made her weak, would it have changed her opinion of her?

  “All right, your turn.” Her father’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Turning to look over her shoulder, Citera found both him and Dirik standing behind her.

  “You two look great,” she said, unable to conceal the goofy grin that formed on her lips. Her father, clean shaven and hair brushed, was decked out in his best pair of slacks and button up shirt. Dirik in contrast was wearing a pair of clean denim pants, surprisingly free of any holes, and a loose pullove
r cotton shirt, bright red in color. He had even gone to the extreme of actually brushing that uncontrollable mane of hair that usually stuck out in every direction on top of his head. “The two of you might actually get a girl to dance with you.”

  The pair of them largely ignored her as she made her way inside. She retrieved the bucket of water her father had heated for her while they were getting dressed. Dumping it into the large basin in the rear of the tent, she disrobed and stepped inside. She washed off in the steaming hot water, cleaning and scrubbing the day’s work away with a bar of lavender soap Janil had given her shortly after arriving to the camp, an apology gift she had said,

  for not being able to contact them and let them know she was still alive.

  Feeling renewed and refreshed she begrudgingly climbed out of the tub, dried off, and applied a layer of sweet smelling lotion her father had given her for her latest birthday.

  Knowing it was still warm outside, and hopefully she would be dancing, Citera decided to secure her hair up and out of the way. After she had towel dried and brushed it, she took the time to weave it into an elaborate braid that fell down her back, well past her shoulders. The final step was the dress; she dug around in her trunk until she found the one she was looking for. A beautiful full-length, cream-colored lace dress that had once been her mother’s. It fit her perfectly, hugging each curve of her still blooming body like it was made just for her. Stopping in front of the mirror she hesitated a moment, then did a couple of spins just to be sure everything looked all right.

  “Hey, are you almost done in there? We aren’t getting any younger out here,” her dad called from outside the tent.

  “Coming,” she replied, slipping on her shoes.

  She stepped out from the tent and was met with strange looks from both her father and Dirik. “What?” she asked, feeling suddenly unsure of herself. She looked down at the dress thinking maybe she had misjudged her choice of attire.

  “By the stars, Citera, you are beautiful,” Mikel murmured, walking up and embracing her. Dirik remained strangely quiet.