Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (29 page)

He is quiet as he enters my studio, and I glance at the walls, detached. How does he see my art--the view from the edge of the falls, the mist rolling off the jagged rocks as water crashes down, the Shield gleaming with water and light in the blackness—and the forest? So many views of the forest and eyes. I don't know when I started sketching eyes, but I can recognize all of them that stare back at me from various places on the walls.

Merc, lazy and amused.

Gali, warm and concerned.

Jade, shaky and blunt.

Rook, distant.

Arjun—so many pairs of Arjun's eyes, showing so many different expressions. Berg is the only one who has seen my studio, and he does not ask about them. It is an unspoken agreement—I do not press about the Mistress, and he does not ask about Arjun and the wolves.

"My test results," I prod, and Wrenfel's eyes snap back to me. They are shrewd, full of questions, but he does not ask them. I wonder when he will—and what answer I will give him.

"A full bill of health. The tests say you are very fertile, my dear." He is almost bouncing with glee, and his words pound at me like nails. I shake my head. I don't want to hear this.

"That's wonderful," I say, my voice soft. I let my paintbrush kiss the canvas, clarifying the shadows.

"What is that?" he asks, me, casually.

I glance at the painting. A shade of white, a gleam of gold, a canvas of black and the dull glow of light on a Shield. "A dream," I say, my heart squeezing.

He doesn't push. One thing I have to admire about Wrenfel is that he knows just how much he can nudge me before I will balk. He knows enough not to pursue my pictures.

"The Prince would like to see you again. To congratulate you,” he says, deftly changing the subject.

"Shouldn't that wait until I'm pregnant?” I ask, adding another stroke. The painting is done—everything I do now only detracts from the picture, but I can’t leave it alone, not with Wrenfel watching me for a reaction.

"Of course, if that's what you want, Sabah,” he pauses, and says, "And how is that?"

I look at him, an arch smile on my lips. "You knew before I was offered Citizenship that Berg and I are together. Give us time."

He seems satisfied. I don't care much either way, but life is easier if Wrenfel is not pushing constantly.

“So. You will meet him?”

I sigh, and look at Wrenfel. “Do I have a choice? He’s the Prince of Mlena.” He gives me a disapproving look and I relent. “Fine, fine. I’ll see him, Wrenfel. Happy?”

He smiles at me, pleased. “Always.”

**

After Wrenfel leaves, I find myself restless. I dress in soft warm pants and a loose sweater, and go out in the City. It’s quiet at this time of day. The children of the City are still in classes—they have finally resumed, which gives me a vague hope that the plague is abating.

I’m not thinking too much of where I’m going. I wander the City, lost in thought. I’m not ready for this. And for the first time, I can’t get Arjun off my mind.

He’s been on the edges of my consciousness constantly since he sent me back into the Manor. And if I keep him there, if I don’t dwell on my memories of him, I can function. But if I think about him—about any of the pack—the pain looms before me like a huge pit.

After watching Wrenfel’s expression as he stared at the visual representations of my memories it’s impossible to push them down.

And for the first time, I am not overwhelmed by grief. For the first time, I’m furious. How
dare
he? How could he send me back to this? To another man, to a life controlled by the Commission? How could Arjun really think that this was right for me? How could he do this to me?

It’s so amazing to feel something other than fear and sadness. I revel in the emotions, wrapping myself in them as I storm through the City.

I find myself in a park, and stare around it. It’s quiet, the stone paths almost empty. But I recognize it, vaguely. I saw pictures of it while I was researching on my tablet. The scrap of paper is still in my cloak. But despite not having it with me, I know exactly what it says.

My feet move almost unconsciously. If I think too much, I’ll lose my nerve. And I want to do this—it’s a small piece of him, but it’s all I have. And despite my anger, I can’t help but cling to every scrap.

With my mind made up, I hurry. The streets are beginning to fill, and I am swallowed by a surge of Citizens, intent on returning to their homes. I look around, curious. Is she here, somewhere?

My legs are aching by the time I have made all the turns, and backtracked--even knowing where I am going, I get lost twice. It occurs to me that Berg will likely be worried. In the month we have been here, I have had dinner prepared every night when he returns from the University.

I stop when I finally see the number 314 etched above the doorpost of a large brown house. It's eerily similar to mine. But if there is anything I have learned, it is that the Commission lacks imagination.
All
the houses are similar.

There is a single light on, and it makes my heart speed. I had almost hoped she would not be here. I'm not sure I
want
to face her.

A sudden thought seizes me: are her eyes are like Arjun's?

That thought propels me up the steps and I knock before I can think better of the idea.

Selent is tiny. She's as short as I am, with soft gray hair that seems to shimmer. Her eyes--my heart stops as I stare at her eyes. They're brilliant, a slightly softer shade of gold than Arjun’s but impossible to mistake

"Can I help you?" she asks, curious but welcoming, and I can see where Gali gets her warmth.

I can feel tears burning in my eyes as I choke out, "My name is Sabah. You don't know me--but... I love your son."

Her eyes go wide. "Arjun?" she whispers, clutching at the door, as if it is all that holds her upright.

"Can I come in?" I ask, suddenly conscious of the many listening ears around us.

She steps back so quickly she trips on her dress, and tugs me into the house. I want to cry as she hugs me. It feels impossibly like Arjun.

"Come, sit down." She pulls me into her kitchen, pushing me toward a chair. "Do you like tea? I have wine, too--it's not the best vintage,” she say apologetically.

"Tea is good," I say, and she bobs a nod, scurrying around the kitchen. She keeps darting miniscule glances at me, as if she is not sure I'm real. I stay silent, until finally she sets the tea in front of me and sits down.

"You are very pretty,” she says, smiling.

I flush, running a hand over my hair. I feel dirty and tired, not how I wanted to meet her for the first time. "Thank you."

"Did you know Arjun?" she asks. "Before..." she trails off, and looks away. “I’m sure you know what happened with him.”

"I do." I nod, and her eyes dart to me. "But, I know him now. I saw him--a month ago."

Hope gleams in her eyes. "The Keepers told me he had broken laws—he attacked his superior."

"Teegan wasn't his superior," I snap, irritated. "And he deserved everything Arjun did and more."

Shock makes her mouth fall open. "You have spoken with him!" Her eyes narrow. “But why would he trust you?”

I take a sip of my tea, and slowly, I tell her. The fact that either Gali or Arjun trusted her enough to confide the truth of Teegan's attack tells me all I need to know about her. She won't betray me to the Commission.

When I finally run out of words, I have told her everything—the only thing I omit is the wolves’ City and the role the Mistress has played.

She stares at me, not seeing me, her lips turned in a smile. "So they are happy. Gali has someone who loves her."

I nod and she seems to focus, looking at me. "Thank you, Sabah. You have no idea how much it means to know that they are alive. That they have each other." She blinks rapidly and tears recede. "How soon until you rejoin him?" she asks, her voice eager.

I shake my head. "I'm not—he sent me back to the City. He doesn't want me."

Selent frowns. "But you love him."

I shrug. "Does that matter?"

Her voice is sharp, and reminds me of Gali, when she says, "Of course it does. Sabah, I know my son. He would not pressure you into staying in such a dangerous life. He would offer you the option of returning home--and if you made that choice, he would do nothing to dissuade you."

"He
told
me to go."

She waves a hand, irritated. "Of course he did. Arjun is a bossy, controlling ass. He’s protective and domineering and rude. You should know that." Her eyes narrow. "Unless you don't want to be with him."

I meet her eyes, and for once, let all the emotions flood into my gaze, past the walls and barriers that keep me from collapsing.

She nods, a satisfied smile on her face. "So then, what's stopping you? If you love him—why are you here?"

If
. The one word that so much hangs upon. "What if he doesn't love me?" I whisper.

She sighs, "I can't convince you that he does. I know my son, and I know what you have told me. I think
you
know that he does. I don't know you, Sabah. But is it possible you are scared?”

I sit on my bed, my legs crossed under me.

The folded paper is almost mocking in its harmlessness. I have been staring at it since I returned from Selent’s—for some reason, Berg still hasn’t returned from the University.

“Just open it,” I mutter to myself, irritated with my hesitation. How bad could it be? For that matter,
what
could it be? Curiosity is beginning to outweigh my fear, and I reach for it, my fingers brushing the sharp folded edges.

Does it really matter, what it says? How much can it affect me—being with Arjun is no longer a choice open to me. The ban-wolves have retreated to their City—even the self-absorbed Citizens have noticed their absence, the fact that they are not running the Shield. Some are blaming their absence on the plague. They think the wolves have succumbed to the disease. Most are happy about it.

I pick up the note again.

"Sabah?"

Berg's voice in the hall barely breaks my concentration, and I tug at the flaps as his footsteps echo on the floor. I register that he sounds worried and then the note is open.

I go very still, noise somehow receding.

There is very little written. I stare at it, my eyes trying to make sense of the scribbled lines, the twisting paths.

"Sabah?" he calls again, as if from far away.

Sudden fear clenches me and I shove the paper under my pillow, falling back on the bed as Berg comes into the room. I smile at him, and hope he cannot hear the pounding of my heart. "You’re late," I say.

He nods, giving me an apologetic look. "We had a breakthrough on one of the experiments, and needed to discuss what to do next." He touches my feet, sitting on the end of the bed. "Did you already eat?"

I shake my head, and see concern flicker in his eyes. "I went for a walk after Wrenfel came by this morning. I... it took longer than I expected," I say, lamely. We don't discuss Arjun—and even if we did, I don't want to tell him about meeting Arjun's mother. If anyone deserves to hear about it, about the elegant woman who has forced me to think, it is Arjun and Gali.

The image on the paper fills my mind, so intoxicatingly hopeful, I can't breathe for a moment.

"Why don't we go to the little cafe on the corner?" Berg suggests. "You don't look as if you’re up to cooking."

I'm not, so I nod. "Give me a few minutes to change?"

He smiles, and hesitantly leans over, his lips brushing my hair. I make a sound, a whimper of protest that he takes as encouragement. His fingers are under my chin, lifting my head, his lips pressing against mine.

It is the first time he has touched me since we have been in the City.

It is the worse timing imaginable.

I stay utterly still under his kiss, but for some reason, he does not notice. He smoothes my hair back and smiles at me. "Hurry, darling. I have news to share."

As I slip into a black dress, I think of the map, the location of a hidden City--the wolves’ future. I can't help but giggle, hysterical, as I realize that I too have news, even if it's something I can't--won't--share.

**

"They think they found a cure," Berg whispers to me, glancing around at the other Citizens filling the cafe. There aren’t many—between curfew and the late hour, most Citizens are already home.

It’s one of the nicer ones, quiet, sedate. Most Citizens are reading on their tablets, or absorbed in their own conversations, and pay no attention to us as we whisper. I stare at him over my dinner—a nutty bread stuffed with herbs, cheese, and thinly sliced fish.

“Do they
know
it’ll work?” I ask, smearing citrus sauce on the bread with a knife and taking a bite.

“No—they’ll have to field test it. But it’s worked in the lab tests.”

There’s something he’s not saying—the edge of his excitement seems dull.

“What’s wrong?”

He toys with his fork for a moment. “They want me to go Outside and bring back a specimen to test on.”

"But the disease could spread," I protest, stunned.

"They know it's out there. But unless we can prove that the cure works, there is no way to contain the pathogen," he says, cutting off my protest. "There's a Citizen in Alpen, a horticulturist who didn’t hear about the quarantine, who has agreed to be our test subject."

The name makes me sit up, and his eyes narrow on me as I stare at him. "What?" he says, his tone guarded.

"Are they bringing the Citizen here?" I ask, making myself relax and take a bite.

"No. Since Alpen has already been exposed, the Commission didn't want to risk bringing the pathogen to Mlena. They're sending a few scientists—including my sponsor and me—to oversee the administration and progress of the cure."

I get a feeling of déjá vu, and I look at him. Berg's lips quirk and his eyebrows lift, silently acknowledging we're both thinking about Merc, and the last days in the Manor.

"How long will you be gone?" I ask.