by Ava Sinclair
Linda nods, then looks towards the window. I see tears glinting in her eyes.
“You’re thinking about Jenny?”
She nods, blinking hard. “Have you heard anything?”
“She’s definitely a candidate. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you.” She smiles through her tears. “If she gets accepted, I’ll get to see her again, at least.”
“Think she can hack it here?”
Linda inclines her head towards the door to Kit’s room. “If your ward can, so can Jenny.”
“I’ll keep you posted.” I wish I could give her a hug, but it’s not safe so instead, I briefly put my finger to her lips. “Just remember, it’s our secret.”
“One of many,” she says. “And you know it’s safe with me.”
Twelve
Kit
My days always start with Matron Lang, who brings me a good breakfast and lays out my clothes. Afterwards, I join Roman Daley in the parlor or library, where he has me study books on science and mathematics or literature that always includes some moral theme.
He knows I can read, and I’m tempted to ask him if he thinks I’m uneducated simply because I never received formal schooling. I long to tell him that I spend what free time I had in the Warrens reading once I learned, and already know much of the subject matter he’s given me.
I don’t, though. My new tact is passive resistance. I can’t escape, so I only speak when I’m spoken to. I have decided that the less I engage with him, the less he will pursue a connection. I still think of him in the night, and when I do, the sensations I experience frighten me. I do not like to be frightened of people. It is in my best interest to make turn him cold through inattention.
This morning I’m taken to his study after breakfast. It’s my first time here, and Roman Daley is behind his desk. He beckons me to stand in front of his desk as Matron Lang leaves.
“You look lovely, Kit.”
I’m wearing a yellow dress with lace edging around the hem. Like all the dresses, it skims my body without being too tight. It’s modest and girlish.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks.
“Yes.” I deliver the answer with the same flat resignation I’ve been using for the past few days.
There’s a chair in front of his desk. When I move to take a seat, he holds up his hand. “No. Stay where you are.”
I feel perturbed at being made to stand, but don’t show it. It’s only then that I look down at his desk and am so surprised at what I see that I forget my commitment to being taciturn.
“Is that…” I take a step forward, even though he’s told me not to. “Is that a butterfly?”
“Yes. A particularly nice one, too. A Blue Morpho, one of the larger, more exotic species.”
“How did you get it? All the butterflies are dead.”
“All the butterflies were dead.” He shoots me a small smile. “There’s more to this planetoid than meets the eye. We’re using recovered genetic material to bring back species thought lost, like this beauty.”
He uses tweezers to move the relaxed wing of the colorful insect into position for pinning.
“Why bring them back if you’re just going to kill them?”
He looks up at me. “I didn’t kill it. I wouldn’t. We breed more than we need. Like everything, they have a lifespan. If one dies, I have it sent to me.” He returns his attention to the butterfly. “Lepteropterist. That’s a fancy word for butterfly collectors. It was all the rage in ancient Victorian era. Gentlemen liked to collect pretty things. Butterflies. Orchids.”
“Women?”
He looks up at me and smiles. “So, this is your impression, that you’re some kind of specimen?”
“Yes.” I shrug. “Am I supposed to think this place is real?”
“Hmm…So what is real?”
“The Warrens.” I’m irritated that he’s managed to pull me into conversation. “Even New Bethel. But not this place.”
“And what do you know of New Bethel?” he asks, stretching out the other wing of the butterfly away from its pinned body, being careful not to break it.
“More now. Matron Lang gave me a book. I’ve been reading it.”
He puts down the tweezers and leans back. “Really? I’m surprised.”
“Surprised that I’d want to learn or surprised that I can?”
He ignores this. “So tell me what you know.” Roman gestures to the chair, indicating that I should sit now, so I do.
“I know the leaders want everyone to be the same. The women…” I pause here, searching for the words. The book used phrases like “permanent security” and “order,” but as a child born into a world of resistance, the real meaning has been passed down unfiltered. “The women have no voice. The only purpose they have in New Bethel is what the men give them.”
I brace myself for a rebuke, but it doesn’t come.
“What else have you learned?”
I pause a moment before answering. “That you shoot men and women who are different into the cold of space to die. The drift fields.”
He’s crossed his arms. “Kit, I own all the books on New Bethel’s history. There’s nothing about that in any of them.”
“I didn’t learn that in a book. I saw it. On the way here. The ship went through a drift field. I’ve heard of them, but seeing it…” I shudder. “The matron said it could have been me.
“You weren’t supposed to see it.” He’s angry. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen him angry. When he’d punished me, his expression was purposeful, dispassionate. Not like this.
“The matron…the one on the ship. She said if it were her decision, it would be me.
He rises from his chair and walks over to me, taking me by the arms. He locks eyes with mine, his tone low and earnest.
“Listen to me, Kit. That will never be you, do you understand? I promise. No harm will come to you, Kit. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Like you keep them safe?” My gaze moves to the butterfly pinned to the foam board.
He takes me hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Senator Daley doesn’t tell me where we are going. We exit the study into the quiet hallway. He is silent as he guides me to a locked door. He also has a pass card, which he uses to open it. There are two more doors, one to a stairwell and another to an elevator. We are taking the elevator.
It sinks quickly, and my stomach lurches as it changes direction. It’s moving forward, and I know we are traveling underground. He takes hold of me as the direction shifts again as we move upwards once more.
“You’ll eventually get used to it,” he assures me, but I’m not so sure. I’m still feeling slightly nauseous when the elevator stops.
“Are you all right, Kit. Do you need a moment?”
I nod. “I think so.”
He pulls a device from his pocket, taps a few buttons and the door opens. I can’t speak. We’re outside. I stare at the ground. Grass. I’ve always wondered how it felt, and without asking, I take a step forward and put my hands to the ground. It’s soft and spiky.
I look up to see the Senator smiling down at me. “Before you ask, yes, it’s real.” He gestures out into the open.
I blink against the light. My mouth is open in wonder as I stare around. Trees. Flowers.
“Can I touch—?”
“In time, you can touch everything. But first I want to take you somewhere special.”
I hear a thrumming noise and a small shuttle comes into view. The Senator steps forward and opens the door. I reluctantly step off the grass, and once I’m in the seat, Roman settles in beside me, explaining that the shuttle is auto-piloted.
Soon we’re zipping along. I’m officially over my silent treatment, and excitedly identify trees and flowers.
“Yes,” he says after each one. “Yes, that’s right. Well done.” He sounds impressed, and I feel a small stir of pride. Under any other circumstance, I’d be annoyed with myself for feeling pleasure
at having pleased him, but I’m too enraptured by my surroundings and strangely grateful for the experience.
Then I feel disappointment when a building comes into view and a disembodied voice drones that we have reached our destination. Once out of the vessel, we approach the gleaming metal doors of the building and walk through into a small lobby bright with artificial lighting. Two small pipes descend from the ceiling, followed by a tone and then a light mist is expelled into the air.
“Decontaminant,” he explains. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Close your eyes, little one.”
I consider disobeying but find myself doing as he says. I hear a click. Another door is opening. I’m being guided through. Another click. The door is shutting behind me.
“Open your eyes.”
I am speechless. Utterly speechless. We’re in a huge glass dome filled with plants. And the air around us is filled with butterflies, some gliding gracefully past, others flitting in an up-and-down motion. I bring my hands to my mouth, turning around.
“Kit.” He takes hold of me. “I want to tell you something.”
I lower my hands.
“That book you read on New Bethel…not all the leaders agree. Some of us foresee a better world. Not everyone appreciates what was lost—the animals, the plants. The grass in New Bethel is synthetic. But one day, what is grown here and on other planetoids will be restored to New Bethel.” He sweeps his hand towards a cloud of butterfly. “One day, these creatures and others will be ready to return. Who knows, maybe their beauty will change things for the better.” He pauses. “One day, your beauty will change things for the better, too.”
“I don’t understand? You helped create New Bethel.”
“I didn’t create it. I have contributed to it. I was born into a prominent family. I am a leader of men, groomed to be an Elder of the Patriarchy.” He pauses. “I’m preparing myself to lead New Bethel, but not as it exists now.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He sighs. “Because we are both leaders. Because you understand what it is like to want to help your people when you see they are suffering.”
“You aren’t treating me like a leader. You’re treating me like a child.”
“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, I am. Because like it or not, my world is taking yours over. You will have to learn to adapt to my way before we can forge a new one together. I intend to give you the childhood you lost, to give you the experience of being raised and molded. But I will not raise you as a weak, submissive woman. I will raise you to be smart and strong, caring for you along the way as you grow and learn. I will love you. I will correct you. And when the time is right, we will make a brighter future for everyone, including those from the Warrens.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I want you to know something else, Kit. I am just as vulnerable as you are now. What I’ve told you is a secret. If anyone else knew, I’d be punished. I’d lose my position. I’d lose my freedom. I’d lose you. I can’t imagine anything more painful.”
I feel another shudder run through me. I think of the resentment I’ve felt for him and try to justify it now with the sudden fear for his safety.
“Is this a trick?” I ask. “Like the day the matron left the key cards out for me to find?”
He sighs. “No.” Roman turns then and begins to walk down the gravel path. He’s trusting me to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation I do.
“I can see why you might thing that, though. The decision to trick you with the key cards was made before I knew your character. I underestimated you, Kit. I was wrong to deceive you to make a point. I’m sorry.”
“You’re apologizing? To me?”
“A good daddy admits when he’s wrong.”
A flash of blue gets my attention. A blue Morpho butterfly like the one Roman has pinned in his study settles on a waxy leaf, fanning its sapphire wings in a leisurely motion.
“It’s a shame they have to die.”
“It is, my dear.” His hand moves to my shoulder. This time I don’t pull away. His touch is gentle and warm. “This one will never make it out of here. But one of her descendants will. What she does in captivity, she does for the greater good, for the survival of her kind.”
I nod. He’s teaching me, gently. And I think I’m starting to understand why I’m here, and how doing the hardest thing I’ve ever done —yielding— will allow me to save those I left behind.
“Kit…” He puts a finger under my chin, tilting it up until I’m looking into his eyes. “Thank you. It means the world to me that you see me as something other than an enemy. But I confess to wanting more. I want to hear you acknowledge who and what you need to me. Can you do that, little one?”
First a lesson, now a test. He’s not demanding, but I can see the expectation in his eyes. He will not punish me if I refuse, but he will be disappointed. I stare spellbound at the plants and the butterflies dancing in the air like winged jewels. He didn’t have to bring me here. He could have kept this place a secret. He could have kept his other secret, too.
He’s trusted me. Now he wants me to trust him.
Can you do that, little one?
I have my answer. “Yes, daddy.”
Thirteen
Roman
I’ve given Matron Lang the night off. Today, I will care for Kit myself.
She’s reluctant to leave the butterfly house. It has spurred her curiosity, and she asks me if any other animals are being reproduced. I tell her that so far, we are working on getting funding to bring back more extinct species that were considered non-essential. Those of us who value what was lost and who feel inspired to bring it back are still in the minority. Each project like the butterfly house is a hard-won accomplishment.
Lunch is waiting for us when we arrive back at my wing in Paternas. It satisfies me to see Kit’s appreciation for food. Today’s midday meal includes a thick stew with chunks of tender beef, carrots, and potatoes, fluffy yeast rolls with creamy butter, and a slice of decadent chocolate cake.
Kit puts the napkin on her lap. She’s been working on her table manners. When I compliment her, she gives me a shy smile.
The food is delicious, and I’m enjoying taking a meal with her. But as good as the food is, it pales in satisfaction to the moment I keep playing over in my head. She called me daddy, and the sound of that word passing her lips fills me with a sense of responsibility. It was not flattery when I told her I wanted to give her the childhood she never had. I want to give her that and so much more.
My sister would call me a fool. She would tell me I barely know this woman, that I could have gotten a compliant wife with just one word. But no woman could make me feel as Kit makes me feel. No woman would have thrilled me so with just one small concession. Earning Kit’s trust is an accomplishment I would have been denied had I selected a dutiful woman raised from the New Bethel ruling class.
“I have some work to do in my study.” I tell her this almost apologetically. “We can spend some more time together this afternoon. Until then, I’d like you to rest.”
“I don’t think I can sleep after what I’ve seen.” She looks back towards the window. “Besides, I don’t really need a nap.”
“It’s a luxury. I insist you take it.” I stand and walk to the bed. “Come. I’ll tuck you in.” When I pull back the coverlet, she sighs and stands.
“Very well. I guess it won’t hurt. Perhaps I’ll dream of butterflies.” Kit kicks her slippers off and climbs into the bed, stretching out. I pull the blanket back over her.
“I look forward to seeing you later.” I turn to reluctantly walk out but stop at the sound of her voice.
“Daddy?”
Did I hear her correctly? I turn back to her. She’s raised herself to sitting, and the expression on her face is one I’ve not seen before. Her eyes are glittering. I move closer to make sure what I’m seeing isn’t just a play of light. When I reach the bed, I take her hand and sit down
on the edge of the mattress. She’s beginning to breathe heavily, and when she speaks, her voice is quavering.
“One of the women…in the drift. She looked like me. Just like me.” The unshed tears are brimming in her eyes now. She’s shaking. “It was like looking at myself.” She puts a hand to her face. “Her mouth was open. She died screaming.”
I pull her to me, and when I do, feel a wracking sob tear through her small frame. She’s letting go, weeping into my chest. Trust has worn the mantle of resolve that until now had contained more suppressed emotion than one person should bear.
“Let it out, little one. Let it out. It’s okay. I’m here. Daddy’s here.” Kit is suddenly the child in my arms, the brave little girl who never let herself cry because she would never give herself permission, because she never though it would do any good. I lift her from the bed and walk to the large rocking chair by the fire. I settle into the seat, holding her. I press my lips to her hair.
I have never felt so protective over anyone in my life. I want to protect Kit from anyone who would hurt her. I swallow my anger at Matron Blunt, whom I plan to deal with shortly for exposing Kit to the drift field as a threat.
I rock her as she cries. Twice she halts long enough gasping apologies for falling apart; both times I tell her there is nothing to apologize for, that she does not have to explain or share anything until she is ready.
I lose track of how long I hold her, how long it takes her body to soften with exhaustion. Kit has fallen asleep in my arms. She slumps slightly in my grasp and I stare down at her sweet face. It’s softened now, too. If possible, she seems even younger now that some of the tension has drained away. Tear tracks are drying on the cheeks sprinkled with light freckles. I have to stop myself from kissing those tears away.
There will be time for that, but for now I have to right a wrong.
