New World Rising

by Wilson, Jennifer

  Push him away. My mind screamed. I knew this was a bad idea, that it would only lead to pain. Push him away! I pressed my palms to his chest, ready to shove him away but my heart rebelled. Moving with the speed of desperation, I clutched him and pressed my lips to his.

  HIS LIPS FIT seamlessly with mine. As my mouth pressed feverishly against his, he reciprocated with a ferocity that made me purr. He wanted me just as I wanted him, maybe even more. As his hands moved against my body, a tingling sensation spread over my skin like wildfire. Every part of my body lit like a struck match. My mind wheeled and my heart ignited. And I felt something for the first time, something other than hate or fear or guilt. I felt alive.

  Somehow, we made our way to the bed. Triven was careful to keep me on top, to let me stay in control. While his hands firmly held me, I knew he would stop the second I asked him to. Only I didn’t ask.

  We lay pressed together, mouths moving in unison until we couldn’t breathe. When I finally pulled away, gasping for air, his lips trailed my jaw before resting next to my ear. We laid in silence listening to each other’s breathing. Beneath me Triven’s heart hammered against his chest.

  My lips grazed the cut on his neck and the guilt came back. Carefully I ran my finger over the healing skin. Then surprising myself, I kissed it. Triven’s arms closed around me.

  “I thought you were going to run.” He whispered in my ear. There was pain in his voice, as if the idea hurt him. “When you were standing on the fire escape. There was this look in your eyes and I thought you were going to run.”

  I pressed my ear to his chest. “I was going to. At least I thought I was going to.”

  He ran his hand through my hair. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  I was silent. I was glad I stayed too. Wasn’t I?

  His fingers sought mine, the pads running over my bruised and raw knuckles. Even his gentle touch stung. I balled them into fists, ashamed of what I had done. He pressed his cheek to my forehead, closing his hand protectively over mine.

  “Phoenix, what you did… it was—”

  “Dishonorable,” I cut him off. “I lost control. I felt like… like I lost who I was. When I saw that man on top of Archer, I just snapped. It was like watching my mother… I have never lost control like that. Never. I mean, I have killed people before— I’m not proud of it— but it was always a kill or be killed situation. But tonight… I… I… Then I turned on you.” I buried my face in his chest. “Triven I never meant to hurt you. I would never… And my parents, what if Arstid is right? What if they were the cause of your father’s death? You should hate me Triven. You should want me to suffer for what they’ve done. For what I have done. I am not a good person. Why did you save me Triven, why didn’t you just let me die in that alley?”

  The words began to pour out and I couldn’t stop them. They had been eating away at me. He just held me tighter and let me sputter out on my own. Once my breathing calmed he spoke.

  “We have all done things we’re not proud of. None of us are murderers by nature and no one could ever blame you for what you did. We have grown up in a world filled with hate and violence, and it’s bound to seep in eventually. You are not a bad person Phoenix; you are a product of the world that raised you. But the pain you feel proves that you are still a good person, that you have held on to your humanity. My father died saving my life, but that is in the past. I can’t change it. Even if your parents did set his death in motion, you are not them. You may be a product of your parents, but they’re not who you are. Too many people get caught up in the past. If we keep punishing people for what their parents or their ancestors have done, the world as a whole can never move forward. Society will never grow. With time, open wounds only fester, better to let them heal and forgive than to fester with hate."

  He was right. A part of me knew he was right, but I still didn’t feel worthy of his forgiveness— or of Mouse’s trust. Both of these righteous, kind people trusted me, but I barely trusted myself. I had put all of my faith in my parents, but what if I had been wrong to do so? What if they were everything Arstid claimed they were? I was angry at her for poking a hole in the fragile bubble that was my world. I was angry with my parents for leaving me alone here. And I was angry with myself for questioning them and for not questioning them sooner.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Triven whispered. I could only just detect the pain in his voice.

  Yes.

  “No.”

  I don’t know…

  We laid in silence for a while as his words swirled though my mind. The moment of passion between us was gone, but his body still felt good next to mine.

  “Mouse will be coming soon.” I said.

  “She is staying with Maribel tonight.” He paused. “I hope that’s okay, I thought it would be good for her to spend time with children her own age.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” I was not the role model she needed; more time with normal undamaged people was good for her. I rolled away from him. Triven would be better off away from me too. But as my body moved from his, he followed. His arm draped over me as his breath tickled my ear. I should have pushed him away, but I didn’t want to. It was selfish, I knew that. I would only hurt him, but I wanted him here. My lips still tingled from where he had kissed me and despite every logical part of my brain, I liked it.

  “Why did you save me, Triven?” I kept my back to him. It was easier to talk when I didn’t have to look into his eyes.

  “The night I saved you in the alley, it wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

  I stared hard at the metal door, trying to keep my voice calm. “What do you mean it wasn’t the first time you saw me?”

  I could feel his wince. “I had gone to pick up new books for my collection and while I was gathering some books on history, a girl dropped down out of the ceiling vent.”

  I flushed with anger at myself. How had I not realized he was there?

  “You moved nearly as silently as I did. At first I thought you were a Tribesman, but you showed no signs of belonging to any Tribe. The longer I watched you, the more I began to realize you were a rogue. At first I thought you had come looking for books to burn. I thought about stopping you, but then I realized you were reading them. I had never met another person outside of The Subversive who could read. I was about to approach you when the Ravagers showed up.” Anger singed his tone. “I saw them before you did, but there was no way to warn you. Instead I led them away. By the time I returned you had disappeared.”

  “I never even knew you were there.” I admitted. I was now indebted to him twice.

  “I know.” He sounded a little smug. “Then that night I found you again. When I realized you were the one in the alley saving the little girl… I had never seen anyone like you. You were utterly captivating. But we weren’t fast enough. At first I thought we were too late, that I would never get to meet the girl who had so quickly stolen my heart, but then you woke up.”

  I thought back on all of the times Triven had watched me, each time he had defended me and trusted me. While I had been looking at him for any sign of deception, he had been looking for love. My chest tightened. I wasn’t capable of love, was I? I had read about it, dreamt about it even, but it was a wasted emotion that only caused pain and heartache. But as Triven’s chest rose and fell against me, I felt something. What though, I wasn’t sure.

  Cook’s drink was still heavy in my system and I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open. Triven’s breathing had grown deeper as well.

  “What’s your real name?” His words slurred a little with sleep.

  I had never told anyone this, no one living remembered who I was before I became Phoenix. Arstid knew my parents, but even she knew no details from my past. I waited two heartbeats as I thought and he retracted his question.

  “Never mind, sorry to ask. I understand you don’t want to talk about it. Can you tell me why you picked the name Phoenix though?” He stifled a yawn. “It seems to suit you.”


  “When my parents died, I was only eleven. I saw the whole thing happen, my mother’s rape, both of my parent’s brutal murders. I remember biting my hand so hard I nearly gagged on my own blood. I wanted to die with them. To forget everything I had just seen. But my mother had told me to survive and I couldn’t bear to let her last words be forgotten. When I finally got out of the storm drain, I realized a large part of me died in that alley with my parents. Maybe that’s why I remember so little of my life before then. Their sweet eleven-year-old child no longer existed. And I was what rose from her ashes.” I swallowed thickly.

  “It’s the perfect name.” Triven’s breath warmed my ear. He no longer sounded sleepy. I shuddered, not knowing if it was from being cold or from dredging up old memories. Reflexively, I pressed my back farther into him seeking a comfort that I’d never known before. His arm wrapped over me, anchoring me to him like a safety line.

  We lay in silence as the weight of the day dragged us into the world of sleep. Just before I drifted away, I offered him something I hadn’t given to anyone before, the last piece of my old self I had left. As I whispered in the darkness I could feel sleep taking me. But before I succumbed, I heard the sound of my name as he repeated it. It was a name no one had spoken in six years, and a shiver ran down my spine.

  “Prea.”

  A LOUD BANGING woke me, jolting me from my dreams. It took me a moment to remember where I was. Something heavy was draped over my body.

  The banging vibrated the room and suddenly the pressure on my body was gone. Triven moved swiftly to the door, holding up a finger asking me stay put.

  What time was it? How long had we been asleep?

  Archer stood in the dim hallway, her eyes uncharacteristically wide with fear. There was blood on her shirt.

  I jumped to my feet as Triven’s shoulders tensed. Something was wrong.

  “What happened?” His voice was deep, commanding.

  “There was a second recon mission. They were meant to retrieve some of the weapons we discovered.” She shook her head, unable to meet our eyes. “The Ravagers ambushed us, two dead and four injured.”

  “Who?” Triven’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  “Marks and Weaver.” Archer stared at his chest. It was the first time I had seen her look ashamed. It made the hairs on my neck stand up.

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” The tone in his voice sent chills down my spine. This was not the voice of the gentle man I had shared a bed with last night. This was the voice of a military leader.

  “The orders came from above, you were not to be involved.” Her eyes flitted to me.

  I was not to be involved. That’s what she meant. Apparently Arstid’s distrust for me had only matured with time. Triven was not informed because of me. He didn’t miss this either. Grabbing my wrist he pushed past Archer, pulling me with him. She looked hurt and ashamed as I glanced back at her. Triven moved with surprising speed through the halls. My usually nimble feet were struggling to keep up. Stragglers from last night’s celebration still lingered in the halls, their curious eyes following our hurried progression. They didn’t know yet.

  We paused outside of the doors that led to the round-tabled meeting room. Voices were carrying through the door, but they were too muffled to understand. Only the volume gave away that it was a heated conversation. Triven’s shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath, his hand tightened on mine. As I looked at our intertwined fingers, a dawning realization came over me. For the first night in six years, my parents’ murders hadn’t haunted my dreams. I had awoken in Triven’s arms not because of my muffled screams but because of something else.

  Before I could speak, before I could think any more about it, we were through the doors. The conversation stopped the instant we walked in. Arstid stood in front of her usual chair with her palms pressed to the table. Her face was flushed, her usually perfect hair falling around her face in a random array of white. Maddox stood across from her with Willets and the blonde guard whose name I still didn’t remember. As her eyes fell on my hand in Triven’s, her face tightened. I loosened my grip, but he only constricted his in response.

  “Who ordered the mission tonight?” Triven’s voice was like ice. Suddenly no one could meet his eyes, not even Arstid.

  “We made the decision without you. It was decided that your judgment might be recently impaired—” Arstid stammered.

  “Impaired?” Triven’s voice rose. “The only judgment that seems to be impaired is yours, Mother. Since when have we ever sent out a team without the input of the entire council?”

  The word mother was like a slap in the face. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Triven wasn’t just a well-spoken youth his peers looked up to. He was the heir to The Subversive. Every glare Arstid threw our way, every time Maddox had backed down from a fight now made sense. I should have been angry that he never told me, but in all fairness I never asked. I also understood him enough now to know it wasn’t about lying to me about who his mother was, it was about being seen as a man within the community and not just their leader’s son. While I stared with enlightenment at Arstid and Triven, the others shamefully averted their eyes.

  “You sent our men out, without our best team to protect them, without the proper planning and look what it has cost us! Your stubborn prejudice has cost two of our own their lives. And for what?! Weapons we don’t need? All because you can’t see past your own hate? There will be no more missions without the full council’s knowledge, do you understand? You are our leader, not our ruler and you would do well to remember that.”

  Arstid paled. I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or because her only son had just pulled rank on her.

  “Everyone out, I need to speak to my son alone.” Her usually strong voice quavered.

  The other members of the guard did not hesitate. As I turned to follow them out, Triven’s hand tightened on mine. “Phoenix stays.”

  Arstid’s lips whitened to match her face, disappearing into a thin line.

  She seethed, glaring at me. “I was foolish enough to trust her mother, I will not be the fool twice. This is all their fault! Her parents lead us here, lead your father to his—”

  I cut her off.

  "It's easy to blame the dead, isn't it? Seeing as how they can't defend themselves." My words were harsh, malice coating every syllable. A twisted pleasure blossomed as I watched the words slap Arstid's face. But even with that pleasure, a seed of doubt was still infiltrating my mind. What if she was right?

  A spasm of pain flickered across Triven’s face.

  I took a deep breath and pressed my palm to his arm. “It’s okay, I’ll go.”

  He nodded at me and to both Arstid’s shock and mine, he pressed his lips to my forehead before releasing my hand. As soon as the door closed behind me I was in motion. I bolted down the empty hall and darted into a cleaning closet I had seen once before. Scaling the shelves with familiar ease, I pressed against the air vent. Relief washed over me as it gave way and I slipped inside. Though it had been nearly two months since I had been in an airshaft, years of practiced movement rekindled instantly. I moved quickly and silently through the dust coated metal. Triven’s deep voiced carried through the shaft giving me guidance. In less than a minute I was hovering above the round table watching Arstid’s snow-white head through the slits.

  “How dare you undermine me in front of—”

  Triven interrupted her. “I was simply reminding you of what you seemed to have forgotten. We are not a Tribe, Mother, nor are we part of The Sanctuary. Years ago, it was agreed that we would be a democracy of equals. You were the one who pushed so hard for that. Or have you forgotten what you and Dad sacrificed so much for?”

  She recoiled, stung before lashing back. “Do not bring your father up to me. Of course I know what I sacrificed for. Sometimes I think you are the one who forgets. You were too young to remember, too young to understand—”

  “But I’m not too young now.�
� His tone softened a little. “I am not a child anymore. I am a peer, a leader in this community and you owe me that respect.”

  She scoffed and sank into her chair. “Respect? Please. You can barely see past your own nose these days. That impetuous little street brat has you so wrapped up you can’t see what is good for yourself much less your own people any more. I know what happened in the alley. She may have saved Archer but that rage she possesses makes her a threat. Phoenix is like a wild dog, Triven. She may turn on you at any moment. It is foolish to trust her.”

  Pain stabbed my heart. She was right.

  “Then I am a fool.” Triven’s words only drove the knife deeper.

  “She can't stay here.” Arstid’s voice wavered as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “If she goes, I go. She needs us even if she doesn't know it yet. She needs our help as much as we need hers.” His voice was still strong.

  “Triven…” Arstid faltered and he went in for the kill.

  “We promised we would help all those in need. By your own creed she has the right to be here just as much as the rest of us. She may look like her mother to you but she is not. Phoenix is a different person. The only one who can’t see that is you. She stays or we both go.”

  I retreated from my hiding place as their voices continued. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I couldn’t stand to hear the trust in Triven’s voice any longer, the compassion. He was wrong and for the first time Arstid and I agreed. I was a danger to him. Why couldn’t he see that? Despite his amorous words, a prideful anger built in me. I didn’t need them. I didn’t need to stay here with them, to be protected by their walls and charitable handouts. I had survived by myself for six years. Screw them for thinking I needed them. I needed no one.