by Casey Hays
“What gives the Council the authority?”
I shake my head. “Wisdom, I guess. They always seem to know the answers.”
He purses his lips. “I see. So what are the roles?”
“Some of the women are hunters. This becomes their sole purpose until they get old or injured. They are usually fast and good with weapons. The guard is trained in weaponry, too. Then we have the jailers.”
“Yeah,” Ian smirks. “I’m familiar. So let me guess. They have to be big, mean, and ugly, right?”
I laugh. Ian is not wrong. It’s a fitting description.
“So what else?” he asks.
“Well, we have gardeners, fishers, doctors. Oh, and nannies. When babies are weaned, they go to the nursery I’ve mentioned before. There, they are raised by these women.”
“Hmmm. And when do you leave this nursery?”
“Not until we’re thirteen. But at the age of five, the boys and girls are separated into different wings.”
“Really?” Ian raises a curious brow.
“Yes. We don’t see males again after the age of five. And no males over fifteen are allowed to stay in the Village.”
“Where do they go?”
I give him a knowing look. At first, he doesn’t see what I mean. I let my eyes roam the cave and settle on him again, and his face lights with understanding.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.”
“That’s another role.” I speak very quietly now because this role touches me most deeply. It’s what I am—even if it is in name only. “Breeder,” I say this word aloud to him for the first time since we met, and it feels ugly and thick sticking in the back of my throat. “Some are chosen for this purpose.”
“Like you.” Ian speaks the words softly, not a hint of mockery in his voice. I nod, not daring to look at him.
“And you,” I whisper. He doesn’t reply, but he stiffens beside me. “Breeders are assigned to a male from the stock.” My eyes slide up to meet his. “I thought you were one of the stock when I came here the first time.”
I don’t dare mention the derogatory term for mate. Dog. It feels bitter even in my thoughts.
“So the ‘stock’ are raised for this? To live here and breed? Forever? That’s it?”
I’m silent, unable to bring myself to answer. His assessment is completely accurate. He studies my face until I can’t bear it anymore, and I look away. I’ve said so much. And I don’t like giving him a visual of what our role was supposed to have been. An ugly, monotonous routine designed only to serve the Village, lacking in any kind of affection or devotion or input on our part. We are simply pieces of a bigger picture to be placed where needed. Putting it into words makes it much more compelling.
“I guess you know our duty.” This is all I say. I smile weakly.
We sit a while, not moving, not speaking.
“So tell me,” he finally says, “what makes you different? You didn’t say a word that first night about why they’d sent you here. Why?”
“Because I didn’t come for that reason.” My voice takes on a pleading quality, wanting him to believe me. “I was forced here even after I begged Mona to let me have some other duty instead.”
Ian turns sharply. “That’s what I mean. You didn’t want to come. But why? If you were raised to become a breeder, and if the Archer has chosen it, and the Moirai have laid the path for you and all that stuff, why are you so against it?”
This is the one question I have asked myself a million times over. Why? Why do the Moirai and their ways bother me so much? Why is my spirit so defiant against what the Archer ordained for my life? And why does it seem I am the only one who questions it? I came to a conclusion long ago, long before I was ever sent to the Pit. I’ve kept it to myself all these years, my silent, secret resolution. And finally, someone cares enough to ask me how I feel. I can’t answer him fast enough.
“Because I don’t believe Fate should have a right over me,” I say, an exuberant thrill racing through me. “And I don’t want someone to tell me what to do with my own body.”
I stand and walk several paces gathering my thoughts, gathering the courage to let the rest of these words leave my lips for the very first time.
“We are taught that we cannot change our destiny. If you are born with a certain look—if you are considered beautiful, or pretty even—the stars determine that you will be a breeder, and you can’t change it.” I check that he understands before I continue. “But . . . it doesn’t seem right. I know other girls—some of my own friends even—have accepted their fate as breeders. They feel privileged to fulfill this role for the Village. And breeders are given the highest honor. We, after all, are the ones who give life. But we are not free.” I shrug and lift my eyes. “I want to be free.”
With those final words, I feel a strange hope flutter at the edges of my heart. Ian doesn’t say anything at first, only watches me with an expression of admiration that makes the fluttering suddenly lift on its wings and hover overhead. He smiles soft and sweet.
“Good for you, Kate.”
And I’m soaring. After, my words pour out of me like a rushing waterfall.
“I could have been something else, you know?” I sit next to him, grateful that finally . . . someone is listening to me for change—hearing me, instead of telling me what do to. “I have skills that Mona would not even consider because the Archer has spoken.” I shake my head. “I don’t like what he’s decided. And so I’d rather not believe in any of it.” Ian nods, understanding. I study my feet and listen to my heart beating in my ears. It’s refreshing to say it, even if it is to a boy I’ve only just met who is helpless to do anything about it. But he’s opened a floodgate, and I can’t staunch it. The eagerness of sharing me boils in my blood, a fire ignited beneath it.
“I know some things, Ian. The woman who visited me in the nursery—she taught me things in her books. I learned about different ways of life, different kinds of people. I never saw a Pit full of stock in any book, but I did read about many good men who did great things for their people. I can’t believe that all men are evil and only want war.
“After the woman died, I went to the library on my own. It holds very few books, fifty at most, but I read them all more than once until last year when Mona discovered I was spending far too much time there. She locked the doors, forbidding anymore reading outside of our lessons. I think she saw a spark in me she didn’t see in the others, and this worried her.” I smile, a little too content. “But she didn’t lock that door soon enough. I’d learned plenty.”
Our eyes lock. He’s drawn in, listening intently.
“I want something different for myself. The woman? I think she wanted something more for me, too. Why else would she have filled my head with these dreams?” I pause and take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a breeder. I don’t believe I was made for this life. It feels . . . wrong.”
I stop talking and look up at him with earnest eyes. He leans forward, takes my hand, and looks straight into my soul.
“Then change your destiny,” he whispers. “It’s that simple.”
My heart stops beating as his eyes settle on me. He smiles.
“I’m glad you told me all of this, Kate. And for the record, I respect you tremendously.” His smile travels to his eyes. “It’s takes a lot of guts to stand alone.”
My face flushes, and I lower my eyes. “I’ve never said any of this to anyone before.”
He looks shocked, but his smile transforms with the privilege of being my first audience. “Well, then I’m really glad you told me. You know, where I come from, life is very different.”
“I’ve gathered.” I smile playfully.
“No really, babies aren’t raised in nurseries. Anybody, ugly or not can be a jailer, and nobody tells you what role you have to play. You get to choose. We aren’t afraid of a bunch of stars, Kate. They’re just lights in the sky.”
I stare, fascinated. Lights in the sky. No one has ever described them as merel
y lights. Perhaps that is all they are after all.
“I think you might fit in pretty well where I come from.” He nudges me, softly.
I shake my head as his wistfulness. “As if that matters. I will never see your world.”
“No? Well, maybe after you get me out of here, you should come with me.” I expect to see a smirk on his face, but I don’t. He watches me plainly. “Just a thought,” he says, shrugging. “It’s totally up to you, but it’s better than what you’ll have to do if you stay here.”
I swallow. The idea of leaving scares me almost as much as staying does—as it should. Since birth, I’ve believed there’s nothing out there worth leaving for. It’s a tremendous idea to weave through my mind.
“Anyway, before we can even think about that,” Ian stands, changing the subject, “we need a plan to get me out of this rat trap. Any suggestions?”
I wrinkle my brow in thought. “I guess it will need to be dark.”
“Right. And what about the jailers? Do they have a routine?”
I shrug. “I really don’t know. The night I came to see you, none of them had been outside. And they may not have come if I hadn’t been so noisy. So as long as I am quiet, this will work in our favor.”
“Okay. Then that’s what needs to happen. You need to be quiet.”
He winks. I can’t believe I’m even thinking of doing this.
By the time I leave, we’ve sketched out a rough plan of escape: It has to be dark, and I have to be quiet. It’s a terrible plan, but Ian’s excitement at the prospect of finally being free is contagious, and I have to smile. He’s determined to bear up patiently until the time comes, because what is one more week—one more month even—when his freedom is a breath away?
I walk the lonely road back to the Village with mixed emotions. Partly, I am exhilarated. Simply sharing my private yearnings with Ian makes me so, and I’ve never felt so free. This puts an extra skip in my walk. But it’s gravely overshadowed by nerves. It’s settled. I’m going to defy the Village. I’m going to defy Mona! I’ve done my share of rule-breaking in my time, but even if I do have the heart of a rebel, I’ve never considered anything so rebellious in my life. To defy the Council in this manner? To expose our existence to an unknown world with unknown terrors by sending one of their own back to them with knowledge of us? This is dangerous.
This is treason.
Ian can never tell his people about us. I must convince him of this; he must comply. No one from his village can ever know where he’s been all this time.
My thoughts turn dreary. In a matter of days, if all goes as planned, Ian will be gone forever, and it will be like he never existed. I’ve known him but a few days, and still, he has become a piece of my routine, almost habitually so. I come to the Pit only for him. And I’ve come to the bitter conclusion that he is my mate, in limitation. There is a familiar attachment in this. And as every other breeder before me has done—as everyone in the Village will expect—one day, I will bear a child. His child.
Of course, it will never happen, and for this reason, my life will only become more difficult. If they don’t discover my part in helping him escape, they won’t kill me.
But they will give me a new mate.
And this mate will not know me. He will not sympathize with my needs, my desires . . . my fears. I can’t bear the thought of going to the Pit for anyone but Ian.
Only Ian.
Chapter 12
“Are you not a brood of rebels, the offspring of liars? You burn with lust among the oaks and under every spreading tree you sacrifice your children in the ravines and under the overhanging crags.” Isaiah 57:5
The Village is quiet when I reach it. Too quiet. Everyone should be at supper, but no sounds come from the dining hall. I glance around nervously. Some women sit outside their hogans, or stand together in huddled groups. They lift their heads as I pass, a resigned caution painted in their eyes, but they say nothing. I take in an anxious breath that wheezes through my teeth. Something is wrong.
When I reach my hogan, I find Mia there, squatting in the doorway and furiously wringing her hands. I don’t know how long she’s been waiting for me. She bounds to her feet the moment she sees me, and the look on her face immediately confirms my fears. She’s wide-eyed with fright.
Something is terribly wrong.
“What is it?” I ask guardedly. “Has something happened?”
She lowers her head.
“Layla had her baby.” Her voice is a hushed and hurried whisper. Her eyes dart nervously around at the other hogans, at the women scattered sullenly among us, before settling on me. Her face is ashen, and it sends a rippling of nerves through my flesh.
Every time a baby is born, a strange anticipation floods the Village, because the birth of a baby can mean one of two things: life or death. Either the baby is accepted into the community and reared as one of us or . . . the stars conclude to do away with it. And each time, we hold our breath in unison and wait for the outcome.
“And what of the baby?” My voice is a tentative whisper, matching Mia’s. I take her hands, squeeze them. “Mia, what has happened?’
Quickly, she tugs me into the privacy of my hogan. Once inside, her worried expression magnifies. She shakes her head furiously and begins pacing.
My heart thuds against my chest. The only other time I’ve ever felt myself tense in this way—my body on alert like a guard, ever watchful for danger, ready for an attack—was just moments before Meg’s execution. It was one of the worst days of my life, and Mia’s sporadic pacing and wringing of her hands causes the feeling to invade me anew. The world turns the color of blood.
“Mia!”
She stops abruptly and faces me. “Something was wrong with the baby,” she blurts. “It— it was—” She looks away, tears forming.
“It was what?” I shake her shoulders. “What, Mia?”
“It was deformed,” she whispers.
I gasp and my knees buckle under me.
Deformed? This is not good.
Ten years ago, when Mia and I were just children, a baby girl with birth defects was born dead in the Village. A boy baby with defects would not have caused so much excitement, but a girl? The Council believed it to be a curse. Terror filled the women in the Village, and the fear of it roared down on us like the rapids. I remember the fear like yesterday. The Council agreed the baby was a sign that the stars were not happy with us—that the gods who governed the constellations were angry with them, and so they had to teach us a lesson. It made no sense to me as a six-year old, but the breeder and her mate were executed as sacrifice to the stars, and peace was restored.
I never saw the dead baby, but attendance at the executions was mandatory. It was my very first time to see someone die, and the fresh shock I felt has stayed with me to this day.
Since then, I’ve witnessed many executions, and even after years of becoming accustomed to them, a small pinch of remembrance seizes me every time. And I am that six year old little girl again, eyes wide, tiny body trembling. It is never easy to watch death, and the death of a friend especially. I close my eyes, shaking my head.
“Is the baby a girl?” I can barely hear myself. Mia simply nods.
I jump to my feet. “Where is Layla?”
She shakes her head, covers her face with her hands.
“Mia! Where is she?”
“I—I don’t know. They won’t tell us.” Her voice is a whimper. “Are they going to kill her?”
Suddenly the assembly bell clangs loudly, breaking the silence that hangs in the frigid air. I tense. Already it is beginning. We’ve been summoned to the Great Hall.
“Come.” I pull the trembling Mia to her feet and together, hand in hand, we make our way to the hall. Other women are entering the building, and we join the throng and spill in together to sit with the other breeders in our designated section. I find a place near the very back and yank Mia down beside me. Some of the Council members gather near the platform, heads clo
se together. I don’t see Mona, but Tara stands apart from the Council, her arms crossed, an intimidating scowl upon her face. I turn away quickly when her eyes rest on me.
The Hall buzzes with the voices of the women. I hear the fear, almost feel it. Mia moves closer and grips my hand.
“Kate, I’m scared.”
“It’s all right, Mia. You haven’t done anything.”
“But Kate, it’s been three months since my sixteenth birthday. What if I’m the reason for the curse?”
“Mia, why would you think that?” I frown, shaking her hand roughly.
“Why wouldn’t I? Who knows why the stars become angry with us? They aren’t required to give a reason. I could be just as good a reason as any—”
“Shush Mia.” I cut her off. “You are not the reason. Why would they curse Layla’s baby if you were the reason?” I lean in and whisper right into her ear. “Don’t be afraid of the stars. They are only . . .” I pause for a brief moment before I let Ian’s words burst from my lips. “. . . lights in the sky. They have no power over us.”
“Kate!” She inhales sharply, her eyes wide. “Don’t say such things! Do you think the Archer can’t hear you just because you whisper? Do you want lightening to strike you right through the ceiling?”
Oh yes, lightening from the sky. Such a phenomenon has never happened, but it always seems to be the phrase used in times like these.
“You are not the reason,” I repeat. “The Council cannot punish you without cause.”
Mia lowers her eyes. “Yes they can, Kate. They’ve done it before.”
All talking ceases the minute Mona steps onto the platform. Her green eyes examine us intently, moving from one side of the room across to the other. No one makes a sound as we anxiously stare back at her. Fear and tension float on the very air.
“We’ve had an unfortunate incident take place today.” Mona’s voice echoes back from the high ceiling. “In these cases, hard decisions have to be made. And as Council leader, I have to make them.”
