As we trek back toward Sweetbriar, my mind is overwhelmed by the idea that our man probably wasn’t just some harmless wanderer who happened to stumble upon us. After all, Sophia told me they never ran into anyone out here before Connor and me, so what are the chances of us coming across people twice in the same few weeks? And the way he stood there in the open, vulnerable, makes me think he wanted us to see him—he wanted us to know he was there. One word, one name pulses in my head, swims through my mind, latches itself to my brain, and spreads its black poison until it is all I can think: Roman.
We return to Sweetbriar once we have checked the rest of the perimeter, and for the first time I am glad to be behind its stone walls and iron gate. After dismissing the rest of the group, Nate and I head to Reina’s house to report the incident.
The lieutenant does most of the talking. Reina remains more rigid than death as she listens, her eyes fixed on the desk in front of her and her hands folded neatly together. As I watch her, I notice a subtle change in her face—three wrinkles, just above the gap between her eyebrows. I don’t know why, but seeing them there brings me a strange sense of satisfaction.
“What do you suggest we do about this?” she asks after a long interval of silence.
“Well, for starters I think—” Nate begins, but Reina cuts him off.
“I was not speaking to you. You lost the chance to offer your opinion when you failed to make a decision and allowed that man escape. I was talking to Nightshade.” She turns to me with an expectant look in her eyes. “Well, what do you think?”
I look at Nate, whose dejected expression from earlier has returned, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. “Well,” I say, “I would suggest changing the biweekly patrols to daily ones. Even though it was just one man and we probably have nothing to worry about, it can’t hurt to be a little more cautious. I mean, better safe than dead, right?”
Reina breaks into a grin. “Brilliant—I would have said the same exact thing. I will increase patrols and warn the sentries too, just in case. I think you are right that we do not need to worry, which is why I will not mention it to the rest of the townspeople—there is no need to raise an unnecessary alarm. I trust you will let me know if you see anything else suspicious in the area.”
She dismisses us with a wave of her hand, and Nate and I walk silently down the staircase and out of the building. He wears that same dispirited expression until we are outside again, when he turns to me with a half-smile and remarks, “Looks like Reina’s found her new right hand.”
I look up at him in surprise. “What are you—? No, Nate, I’m not— I don’t want to be—”
“Relax,” he laughs, “it was just a joke. I know you’re not trying to replace me, Nightshade, and I’m glad you were there today.” He sighs. “Can I tell you something? I have a really hard time making spur of the moment judgment calls. Reina knows, but not many other people do. I just . . . I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. I’m afraid of messing up and getting somebody killed. I’m glad you made the call, Nightshade. Somebody had to.”
After Nate and I part ways, I head to the cafeteria and grab two dinner trays. As I walk back to the house, the black machete smacks against my thigh, a not-so-subtle reminder of why I am here in the first place. To think how different my life would be if I hadn’t kept the stupid thing, if I had left it with The Leader instead of taking it as a souvenir. I’m such a fucking idiot. If Roman had never seen that weapon he might have just gone on his way and let Connor and me be. Right now all I want is to be able to undo it all.
Connor is already lying in bed tossing his stress ball in the air when I arrive. Hearing me enter, he sits up to take his tray and immediately begins to dig in, eating like I might take his food away from him at any second. I place my rucksack on the floor and take a seat on my own cot, but I have no desire to eat. Instead, I put the tray aside and untie the machete from my hip, turning it over and over in my hands as Connor slurps his venison soup. Such a beautiful weapon. As I run my fingers along its blade, I can’t help but wonder how many people lost their lives because of this machete, and if Connor and I will be next.
In the corner of my eye I catch Connor open his mouth to blab about whatever nonsense happened at school today, but I stop him before he even begins. He stares at me for a long time, obviously sensing that something is wrong. He always does.
“I think we should leave Sweetbriar tonight when the sentries change shifts,” I say. “No one will see us if we time it right. All we’d have to do is climb one of the ladders to the top of the wall and then scale down the other side. The vines should make good enough hand- and footholds. It’ll be hard for you with your leg and all, but if we throw the crutches over first—”
Connor looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “Whoa, whoa, what the hell are you talking about? We’re not escaping from Sweetbriar. Have you lost your mind?”
“Roman is coming for us, Connor. If he finds this place then we’re dead.”
He places his head in his hands, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Nightshade, what are you talking about?”
I explain to him today’s incident and what Roman’s man whispered to me before I killed him, a piece of information I had refrained from telling him before. As he listens, he doesn’t look up at me once, but just sits there shaking his head. When I finish speaking, he groans.
“This makes no sense. It’s been over two months now. Why would he still be coming after us? Why wouldn’t he have given up by now?”
“I’m under the impression you’re asking that question while assuming Roman is completely sane,” I retort. “I killed his brother, Connor. That’s not something people just forgive. I know I probably wouldn’t.”
“Look, I just think it’s a little far-fetched, you know? Alright, let’s say for a minute that Roman is still alive and he and whoever is left in his gang are on our trail. Don’t you think Sweetbriar is the safest place we could be? I mean, does it really make sense to leave?”
I look at him, unable to believe what I am hearing. I just gave him absolute, concrete evidence that Roman’s gang is coming for us and he has made a point of ignoring all of it. If he had any sense left in him he would climb that wall with me and put as much distance as possible between this place and us. But his feelings for Savannah have sucked it out of him, every last shred of it.
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Connor,” I hiss, slamming the machete to the floor. “You’d really rather risk our lives than leave your girlfriend, is that it? You’re an idiot.”
Even in the waning evening light, I can see Connor flush. He stammers for a second, unable to think of a witty retort, finally managing to snap, “Savannah isn’t my girlfriend, alright? I already told you I don’t have feelings for her. You and I are staying in Sweetbriar because it’s what’s best for us. Do you really think we would last longer out there than in here with my leg the way it is?”
“I think your perception of reality would be a little different if you got your head out of her ass and started thinking about what’s important, like our survival!”
“You know what?” he snaps, grabbing the blanket beside him and pulling it over his body. “I’m not dealing with this or you right now. Goodnight, Nightshade.”
“Fine,” I hiss back, covering myself in my own blanket and lying down with my body turned away from him. He can ignore the facts all he wants, but if there’s anything I know for certain it is that Roman is going to find this place sooner or later. And when he does, I have no intention of being here.
Chapter 38
As Connor and I get ready for work the next morning, I try again to convince him how imperative it is that we leave Sweetbriar immediately, but he won’t hear a word of it. With a scowl, he throws on his coat and hobbles toward the door, refusing to speak to me. He storms out, nearly colliding into Nate, who catches the door before it can slam back into place. The lieutenant remains in the doorway, staring after Connor.
“Everything alright with you two?” he asks.
“We’re fine. Just had a bit of an argument, that’s all.”
“Oh, that sucks, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk ab—?”
“No,” I say before he can finish the question.
“Alright then, I won’t pry. Hey, listen, you’re off the hook for hunting and patrol today. I put you on for sentry duty tonight, since Reina wants to increase security and all. We’re going to start a rotation. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, not at all,” I say, feeling glad for a break from the usual routine. Sentry duty will allow me the alone time I need to think, to figure out how I’m going to get out of here before Roman shows up, and to determine how to get Connor on board.
Nate leaves, and I shut the door behind him to keep whatever heat is left in the house from escaping. Alone for the first time in weeks, I find I am not quite sure what to do with myself. At first I attempt to go back to sleep in preparation for the long night I have ahead of me, but after rolling around on my cot for a few minutes I find sleeping impossible. Instead, I decide to make up for all the slacking I’ve been doing recently and catch up on my exercise. If yesterday’s fruitless chase showed me anything, it’s just how important it is to maintain my endurance; two and a half months of relative leisure have really set me back physically. I work through the routine my father taught me until I have completed every last rep, but not even half the morning has passed by the time I finish. Sweating and achy, I flop down onto the floor with a sigh and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell Connor could stand it in here all those idle days.
After a few minutes of contemplation, I decide to keep my mind and body busy by braving the cold and going for a walk. Just as I am about to leave, I notice the machete lying on the floor where I left it yesterday. Its devilish black blade winks in the sunlight that filters though the adjacent window, begging to be picked up. Reluctant to leave the weapon behind, I snatch it up and loop it into my belt. It falls back into place at my hip as if it had never left, as if it is home again.
As I meander down the slippery cobblestone streets, arms folded across my chest to protect my warmth, I watch the townsfolk go about their business. Many wave to me as I pass, calling out sweet greetings. I acknowledge them with a nod or a quiet “good morning,” but do not stay and chat. However, as I walk by the old couple that owns the tailor shop—I have learned from Sheppard that their names are Mr. and Mrs. Sharma—the wife beckons me over.
After inquiring as to whether I am busy or not, to which I reply in the negative, she explains that her husband’s arthritis is acting up and asks if I would be kind enough to carry a few heavy boxes of clothing and deliver them to those in need. At first I am somewhat reluctant to agree, but remembering I have nothing else to do, I decide that doing one little favor for these people won’t be the death of me.
Mrs. Sharma guides me into her house, the inside of which is identical to the one Connor and I inhabit, except hers is furnished with a few tables topped with sewing supplies, a small bed, and a dozen or so handcrafted tapestries that hang from the walls. An intricate red and gold one depicting an elephant decorated with henna catches my attention. When I ask the old woman if she made these herself, she replies in the affirmative, explaining how in her free time she likes to create works that remind her of her country. As she bends to hand me box after box, I stare at her wrinkled, veiny, liver-spotted hands and wonder how such aged and delicate things could produce such otherworldly beauty.
When she has stacked four large boxes in my arms, she hands me a list of names and asks that I bring each labeled box to the person it is addressed to. Although it takes me a little while to figure out where to find the people on the list—I’ve never really bothered to get acquainted with the Sweetbriarans, so most of the names are foreign to me—I am able to deliver all of the clothes with only a bit of help from passersby. As I hand the last box to Dr. Lam, she asks me if I have noticed any improvement in Connor’s condition recently, seeing as she has cut her visits down to only once or twice a week. We discuss his health for a little while, during which time she assures me he will be fit enough to leave in only two more weeks or so. Little does she know two more weeks is time we just don’t have.
Just as I am about to leave, Dr. Lam asks if I could do her a favor and tell Reina she’s in need of more flu medicine. Although I don’t really feel like playing messenger after acting as the town delivery woman for the past hour, I figure there isn’t much else to do for the time being. Besides, the bags under Dr. Lam’s eyes are some of the puffiest and darkest I’ve ever seen, so I can tell she needs the help. Flu season can’t be easy for a lone doctor in an age where medicine has taken a hundred year back step.
I return to the Sharma house to let the old woman know I have completed her task. She thanks me emphatically, clutching my hand in her own shaky ones and repeating over and over again how grateful she is for my assistance. Assuring her it was no trouble at all, I make an attempt to leave, but she stops me before I can reach the door, insisting I let her give me something in return for my hard work. She disappears into the next room, returning a moment later with a hand-knit gray scarf. Placing the scarf in my hands with a toothless smile, she gestures for me to try it on. I shake my head, trying to give the thing back, but she refuses to take it. Finally, I wrap the scarf around my neck, which causes her to clap her hands together and grin with delight. After quickly thanking her for the present, I head out to complete my other request.
As I walk to Reina’s house, I notice a flood of people entering the cafeteria, which means it’s already lunch hour. If I hurry, I might be able to catch Sheppard at his usual table, playing today’s card game with Sophia’s nephew. I quickly make my way into the building and up the white marble staircase, figuring I will find Reina in her office as usual. Upon reaching the top of the steps, I catch the sound of Nate’s voice coming from Reina’s study. Not wanting to disrupt their conversation, I decide to wait in the hall until they are done.
I try not to eavesdrop, but although they speak in muted tones their voices are loud enough that it is impossible not to listen, and my interest is piqued immediately at the mention of my name. It comes from Reina’s mouth.
“How has Nightshade been getting along with the others in the group? Any more problems I should know about?” she asks.
“No, no problems. Everyone’s really warmed up to her, even Claire,” Nate replies.
“Yes, I have noticed. But what about her? Would you say she has warmed up to them?”
The lieutenant hesitates to answer. “Compared to when she first got here, yes. She’s on friendly terms with all of us, but I’d say she’s closest to Sheppard and me out of anyone else.”
“You consider yourselves friends then?”
Again, he hesitates. “Well, I do, but I can’t speak on her behalf. I don’t really think she’s here to make friends.”
“And does she seem content with her new authority? Do you think she is enjoying the work?”
“She seems to like it. I’d say she’s adjusting well.”
“I need to know for sure, Nate. I cannot let her leave, not under any circumstances can I let that girl leave Sweetbriar—you know that. You and I need to do everything in our power to keep her happy, do you understand?”
“I know, Reina. I know. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.”
A lump forms in my throat and I nearly sink to the floor. Suddenly the walls of the narrow hallway feel as if they are closing in on me and the air is almost too thick to breathe. As my mind tries desperately to grasp what is happening to me, I realize this is the sensation of being completely and utterly trapped. Cannot let her leave. Not under any circumstances. Keep her happy. So I was right all along—I’ve been their prisoner from the beginning. The kindness, the hospitality, the promotion—they were all just tools in ensuring I would be complaint and remain in Sweetbriar. But now with Connor’s leg almost healed, Reina needs to find a
way to tighten my shackles and keep me hostage without me ever being conscious of it. For the second time in years, I feel like prey, like a hare whose foot is caught in a snare and who can only thrash its body helplessly as it waits for the hunter to return.
I stumble down the stairs and rush back outside, gasping as my lungs fill with thin winter air. Finally I can breathe again, I can think again. As I stand out here in the open, I stare at the gray stone walls that cage me. But these are only temporary barriers. I am not a hare, and if I were I would bite through that cord around my leg—or the damn leg itself, if it came down to it—and liberate myself. I am not going to become a fixture in this town. I will escape this place. All I have to do now is figure out how.
Chapter 39
I spend the rest of my afternoon alone in the house, musing over my situation. Now I am fighting a three front battle. On one side Reina is attempting to do everything in her power to keep me in Sweetbriar. On another, Connor refuses to leave because of his attachment to this wretched place and his emotions for Savannah. And on another, Roman is doubtlessly creeping closer than ever.
When dinnertime rolls around, I decide to pay Connor a visit at the schoolhouse to ask if he wants to get dinner with me before I go to my post. With any luck, he will accept my peace offering and walk with me to the cafeteria, which will give me another shot at convincing him to leave with me. When I reach the school, I find the classroom empty except for the two teachers.
Connor and Savannah stand close together, talking in hushed tones, a flirtatious smile playing on both of their lips. They are so absorbed in each other that they do not notice me enter at first, so I slam the door behind me to draw their attention. Both heads snap in my direction and both pairs of cheeks flush. Friendly as ever, Savannah greets me with her warm, genuine smile and a cordial “Hello, Nightshade, it’s lovely to see you!” I reciprocate the greeting, but my eyes are set on Connor, who slinks toward me sheepishly. He knows exactly what I’m thinking, but I decide not to say anything and instead ask him about dinner.
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