The Scent of Lilac: An Arrow's Flight Novella (5 page)

he sun sets, darkness creeps in on us, and I lie next to
Chad
,
his steady breathing matching my own. In silence, we stare at the darkened
ceiling. I’ve studied it many times in the daylight. When the sun hits it just
right, there is a stern frown in its clumpy surface that always makes me feel
uneasy. As if the cave is a living being that hates me and longs to spit me out
of its mouth. But tonight, it stares back at me from the blackest of blacks.

           
I raise
my hand toward it, imagining that the frown might have grown sharp teeth in the
darkness and will gladly take a bite out of me. It doesn’t. Instead, I catch a
shimmer of my fingers in the small bit of moonlight. After a moment,
Chad
reaches up, entwines his fingers with mine. His grasp is a solid truth in my
reality.

           
At his
touch, I turn, barely able to discern him. He shifts his weight until he faces
me. Another minute, and that crooked smile slides into place. The shadows can’t
hide it.

           
“Are you
going to stay with me tonight?” he asks.

           
The
question tumbles around inside my brain. I’ve never spent a night in the Pit.
In fact, the thought has always repulsed me. But my body stretched out beside his,
one leg looped over his thigh, has no desire to move, and the short trek back
to my hogan seems miles long.

           
I tug my
hand free from his and reach out to run my fingers through his dust-colored
hair.

           
“Would
you like it if I did?”

           
The
question floods me with panic. To speak it aloud is to commit to it.

           
“Yes,” he
whispers, an anxiousness in his tone.

           
A sudden,
silent flash of lightening illuminates the cave, surprising both of us. It
lasts just long enough for me to notice
Chad
’s
eyes flooded with heated emotion. Just long enough to tear at my heart and make
me weak and sick and so utterly ashamed that I disregarded his feelings for so
long. Yet, how was I to know?
 

           
A pealing
roll of thunder rumbles overhead. I take
Chad
’s
face in my hands.

           
“I’ll
stay,” I whisper.

           
With
those two words, something in the air seems to shift. Something new and
dangerous, and I assume this is what it means to be a rebel—which I am not—and
the entire moment holds both of us captive. Lightening flashes.
Chad
’s
face, his beautiful, familiar face, lights up, falls into shadow. But not
before I see his eyes again.
           
It is then that I give in to
the nagging, groaning beat of my heart—a heart that has been speaking to my
deaf ears for far too long to no avail. I ease up until my face is level with
Chad
’s.
He inhales, holds his breath in a moment of anticipation. And before another
thought can pass through my brain to change my mind, I lean in and press my
lips to his for the very first time.

He jolts at the unexpectedness of
our bumbling lips bumping into each other, and at first, everything is awkward,
and it feels wrong. Madame Belle never taught kissing. Kissing is not
required—is not a necessity for mating—but as
Chad
’s
mouth parts, accepting mine more readily, I begin to wonder why. He presses his
lips together, catching my bottom lip between them, and they cling to each
other as if they were always meant to be joined like this.

His hands slide up, catching my
jaw in their palms, and he pushes in. Our tongues meet, just a small lick. A
shiver climbs my spine, and I’m suddenly fully aware that kissing is the most
natural of things.

           
Seconds
turn into minutes as our mouths explore each other, an uncharted and very new
territory. And it is wonderful and innocently intimate, and I wish that I could
kiss
Chad
like
this forever.

           
We
snuggle down together, my head on his chest. I am inside this cave—after dark. The
rain patters the dust outside, growing heavier and keeping me here whether I
want to stay or not—and I am content.

           
“Mia,”
Chad
whispers.

           
“Mm-hmn?”

           
“What was
that?”

           
I smile.
“That was a kiss.”

           
“Oh.” A
pause. “There’s another feeling in my chest. What is it?”

           
Outside
the gate, the rain beats up the earth, and I swallow my answer. Because I’m
certain the same feeling batters inside my own chest.
                                   
           
           

*

           
My convulsing
stomach wakes me in the middle of the night. I jut upright on the mat, my hand
flying to cover my mouth. It does no good.

           
I leap
from the mat and heave my last meal all over the floor.

           
Chad
rolls to his side, props his head on his bent arm. I stand on shaky legs
staring at the mess. And one thought runs through my mind: the Moirai are
punishing me for that kiss. I press the back of my shaking hand to my mouth.

           
“I must
be coming down with a sickness,” I insist.
Chad
reaches for me, pulls me down to him.

           
“Do you
hurt?”

           
I assess
myself, shake my head. Oddly, I feel surprisingly good. I check for fever.
Nothing.

           
“I’ll
bring water to clean this up.”

           
Chad
merely shrugs and pulls me into him until my back is against his chest, his arm
locked tightly around me. His solid form is so comforting. I’ve never allowed
myself to notice before. The contents of my stomach pool near the mat, already
causing a sour stench, but I close my eyes and relax into
Chad
,
sleep moving back in.
 
For a minute, as
his breathing matches mine, I don’t care what the Moirai think, and a strange
thought permeates my brain just at the edge of sleep.
           
Right here… this is where I
belong.
 

*

           
“It must
be something I ate.”

           
Rhoda lifts
my chin to peer into my eyes for the third time. After getting sick twice more
this morning, I decided it was best to see a Village physician. Still, I feel
perfectly fine, and I sigh as she presses her fingers gently against my throat,
feeling for lumps. I’m tired of her prodding.

           
She lays
her head against my chest, listening to my lungs.

           
“Take a
deep breath.”

           
I do, but
it comes off as another exasperated sigh. Her hands come up, press into my
abdomen. A giggle erupts from me when she squeezes my ticklish sides too hard.
Shock slams into me when she unexpectedly yanks my legs apart to check my lower
regions.

           
“Rhoda!”
I work to press my thighs together. “Can you please just give me some ginger
syrup, and I’ll be on my way?”

           
I know
this remedy. In fact, I know many. Medicine is a favorite subject of mine, and
Rhoda has been kind enough to humor my curiosity, letting me loiter in the
infirmary and teaching me how to mix herbs for all sorts of cures. The duty of
physician has always enamored me, and Rhoda is knowledgeable of so many
remedies. I truly admire her.

           
She rests
her smooth palms against the tops of my legs and looks me in the eye. “Ginger
syrup isn’t going to cure what you have. But it will help with the nausea.”

           
I
straighten.

           
“What’s
wrong with me? Is it… something terrible?”

           
“That depends
on your definition of terrible, child.”

           
There’s a
playful twinkle in her eye, and I furrow my brow, not liking this game of
riddles.

           
“What is
it, Rhoda?”

           
She leans
back, crossing her arms over her chest, her smile showing off the small gap
between her two front teeth.

           
“When did
you last have a cycle?”

           
Her smile
widens, one dark brow raised knowingly, and with a gasp, I press my hands
against my stomach.

           
“Nooooo.”
The word is a long whisper leaking from my lungs. And then, I stare at her in
stunned silence while she continues to smile like a village idiot.

           
For eight
long months I have waited, and finally, the Moirai have answered. Elation
washes over me. No one has ever been cruel enough to say it to my face, but I
see the pitiful looks from breeders who are with child. I can read their eyes
plainly. Poor Mia. She must be tainted. Whether they mean it or not, their enlarging
bellies are a mockery, and as much as I’ve tried to deny it, each passing month
made me believe it myself. I was marred.
 

           
But now?

           
Rhoda
chuckles with a shake of her head as I sit on the edge of her examining table
letting the news settle in. Her laughter is infectious, and soon, I’m grinning
from one side of my head to the other.

           
“Congratulations,
Mia. It appears you’re not useless after all.”

           
My joy is
only stifled by the fact that I have no one to tell. I slide off the table.

           
“So the
sick feeling is natural?”

           
“Completely.
You’ll most likely feel nauseous in the mornings for a while, but it should
pass.” She reaches for a brown bottle capped with a bark topper. “Here’s your
ginger. Now move along. I have other patients to see to.”

           
Still
reeling from the news, I take the bottle from her and turn toward the exit.

           
“You’re
very fortunate, Mia,” Rhoda adds, and I pause just inside the doorway. “The
Moirai have been good to you.”

           
“Yes,” I
nod.
Finally.

           
“I’ll report
it to the Council,” she concludes, and I nod and slip out.

           
A slight
anxiousness gathers in the recesses of my belly, and I press a palm against it
as I trudge to my hogan. Could there truly be a little life in there? After all
this time, it’s going to happen? I’m going to bear a child for the Village?

           
A small
sliver of a smile edges into place on my lips before another thought invades—an
overwhelmingly painful thought that surprises me.

           
With
Rhoda’s report, I will no longer be required to go to the Pit.

           
A few,
short months ago, I would have welcomed this news with open arms. I would have
reveled in my days of freedom until the birth. I had such plans in mind to fill
my time away from the Pit. Plans which included Kate and Diana.

           
I emit a
short sigh and push them out of my mind. And in that slice of space,
Chad
slips into my thoughts. I wonder for half a second if I should go to him with
my news. But will he care? It only means that he won’t see me for a time, and surely,
he will be just as relieved as I that our duty is behind us for now.
 
But at the thought, that strange feeling in my
chest returns with
Chad
all twisted up inside it. I clench the bottle of ginger until my knuckles
whiten.

           
I
shouldn’t have kissed him; I know this now. The memory taunts me, reminding me
that I allowed myself to cross a line in an emotional moment. With that one
small gesture, I’ve aroused a different kind of feeling in both of us, and it
frightens me. It was too familiar, his face so close, his eyes piercing me. And
I remember… there was something different written in them—something beyond the
raw, innate desire of a breeder that is necessary to perform our duty.

           
Kate asked
me once if I felt love for
Chad
.
I don’t know what it feels like, but if this is it…

           
I shudder
the thought away. I can’t have that in my life. It will complicate things the
way it complicated Meg right to her death. I saw what it did for Kate. She is
banished from the Village forever. No. I will not have it.

           
My mind
made up, I slip the bottle of ginger into my pouch purse and head for the
dining hall. Hunger is the only feeling I’m willing to serve for now.

here have you been hiding?”

The sniveling sound of Daija’s voice causes the hairs to
bristle on the back of my neck. I ease my bowl of stew closer to my chest as
she takes a seat on the low bench beside me and props an elbow on the table.

           
“I
haven’t been hiding,” I answer, tossing her a disdainful look. I’m not in the
mood for her today.

           
“You also
haven’t been seen.” She pauses, tipping her head to the side. I take another
bite of stew. “Your hogan was empty this morning. Did you have another meeting
with Kate?”

           
A slow,
angry sigh eases from my lungs. I lower my clay bowl with a clunk against the
table and twist in my seat to face her.

           
“No?” she
taunts. “So you slept in the Pit, then?” Her mouth twitches into a quick smile
before fading. I stare her down, irritation swelling. “Isn’t that what your
group of friends likes to do? Turn the stock into something human?”

           
I stand
too quickly, upsetting the half-full bowl of stew—right into Daija’s lap. She
leaps to her feet as the hot liquid penetrates, soaking through her skirt and
leaving chunks of potatoes and meat clinging to the fabric. Her face is a sheet
of anger.

           
“You are
a clumsy, useless girl who can’t get anything right!” she seethes through
gritted teeth. She spreads her stance wide, and stew drips off the hem,
pattering the floor. I laugh.

           
Her brows
knit together into a dangerous frown.

           
“Oh? A
breeder who can’t breed thinks this is funny? You have one duty, and you can’t
even manage that.”

           
By now,
the other women have stopped eating to watch us. I can hear their low banter as
they discuss the scuffle, and suddenly I feel very tired. I just want this
episode to be over. With an effort, I pull back my shoulders until I gain at
least an inch in height on Daija.

           
“I’m
managing just fine.” I glare into her eyes. “And I’ll ask you to keep out of my
business.”

           
Perhaps
it is the pregnancy or the disrespectful mention of my friends… or the plain
hilarity of the situation at hand, but my spunk is back. And I’m not about to
let Daija who is as much a nobody as I am thwart it any longer.

           
“How dare
you!” she screeches, and the stew drips, and the moment simply grows funnier.
“You need to show a little respect to your elders.”

           
“And when
I see one, I will,” I counter.

           
I spit
the end of my sentence at her, and her eyes burn before they flick with
embarrassment to a spot over my shoulder. I turn.
Tara
sits in the corner, a large mug blocking a portion of her face from view. She
watches us; I nod respectfully in her direction. She dips her head at me before
her eyes settle on Daija, who turns abruptly and leaves the dining hall without
another word.

           
With a
sigh, I sit, keeping my eyes on
Tara
a moment longer. Blaer
takes the empty seat beside me.
 

           
“She
deserved that.”

           
I glance
at her, sarcasm lining my voice when I answer. “Do you think so?”

           
“Yes.”
She stares at me with her big, round, light green eyes. “She is the worst
person I know.”

           
Her voice
is so dramatically serious, that I laugh before using my hand to scoop the
chunks of stew off the table and back into the bowl.

           
“They
won’t tire of harassing you.”

           
She props
her elbows onto the table and lays a cheek against her clasped fists. I pause
in my cleaning.

           
“How do
you know?”

           
“I’ve
watched Daija and her friends all my life. Once you’ve been placed in the
forefront of their minds, they never forget to make your life as miserable as
they can.”

           
“Well,
they can badger me all they like; they’ll get nowhere with someone who knows
nothing.”

           
I stand
and work my way through the tables to the dirty dish bin. Blaer follows.

           
“I
believe you,” she insists. I turn, and she’s right there, her nose so close to
my face that it startles me. I step back a pace. “If you say you haven’t seen
Kate, I believe you.”

           
I frown.
“I don’t need you to believe me.”

           
“You’d be
surprised what you need.”

           
I can’t
make sense of that statement. Exasperated, I toss the bowl into the bin and
turn to leave, hoping to be rid of her. Again, she follows me.

           
Outside,
the sun shines hot in a blue sky. A breeze whips at my cheeks and upsets some loose
strands of my hair, and I pick up my pace. Blaer keeps in step with me. When we
reach our section of hogans, I stop, facing her.

           
“Do you
need something, Blaer?”

           
She shakes
her head. “No. Why do you ask?”

           
I raise a
brow and study her closely. Her red braid clings to the side of her neck, and
she stands straight-back tall, her hands clasped behind her. She is very pretty
with those green eyes flashing out of her cream-toned face.

           
“You do
remember that we aren’t friends, right?” I remind her.

           
“We could
be,” she shrugs. “And from the looks of things, you could use one.”

           
Blaer had
plenty of invitations to join my friends in the nursery. We always thought she
would make a great addition, but she never cared too much for us. Every time
one of us approached her to ask if she wanted to play tag or simply climb the
big tree that stood in the middle of the grounds, she would glare down the edge
of her nose at us and shake her head decisively. We were far too silly for her.

           
“Why
now?” I tilt my head. “You wanted nothing to do with me in the nursery.”

           
She
shrugs again. “Perhaps I’ve changed my position since our nursery days.”

           
I lift my
chin suspiciously. “Well, it’s too late for all that. And stop following me.”

           
“I’m not
following you.” She thumbs at her hogan. “I live here.”

           
“Right.”
I take in her hogan, feeling foolish. Another awkward moment, and I spin on my
heels and move up the path quickly.

           
“When you
change your mind, you know where I am,” she calls after me. I pretend not to
hear.

           
Inside my
hogan, I’m restless. My conversation with Blaer has turned my thoughts toward
my friends. It’s a beautiful day—a day we would have spent lounging on a
blanket by the river. I almost hear Kate’s laugh riding on the breeze in my
memory, and I suddenly feel very lonely for her.

           
Shaking
this feeling away, I gather up a blanket and my pouch. I can go to the river on
my own, and I make up my mind to enjoy the warm day all by myself.

           
Halfway
to our favorite spot, my feet seem to take an involuntary turn, and before I
realize what I’ve done, I’m standing at the edge of the Pit. Small spurts of
dust kick up around me, and I simply stare downward.

           
A few
jailers loiter near the barracks today. I learned that while I was in the Pit
last night, a mandate was ordered that forbade anyone from feeding or sharing
food with them. According to Rhoda, a handful of the jailers’ need for
rebellion weakened as the hunger in their stomachs grew stronger, and they
returned to their duties. Still, there are enough holding to their convictions
to prevent the Pit from fully functioning.

           
I glance
across the wide expanse in the direction of
Chad
’s
cage, and my loneliness seems to rumble in my bones. As appealing as the river
is, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to sift through my feelings anymore
either. And the quiet, cool darkness of
Chad
’s
cave suddenly seems so inviting.

           
The
moment I take hold of the first rung of the ladder, Ash’s head pops up over the
rim. Startled, I shift out of her way. She hikes her leg over the top rung and
stands upright, adjusting her skirt. She is the last person I care to see after
my encounter in the dining hall. I keep my eyes on her a minute too long, and
she frowns.

           
“What?”
she snaps.

           
Swallowing,
I prepare myself for another confrontation. “Nothing.”

           
She eyes
the blanket tucked under my arm, but she doesn’t move.

           
In
reality, Ash is much less intimidating when she’s not with Daija. She’s small
and pretty with straight, white-blonde hair that hangs past her waist—nothing
like the stout, dark-haired Daija or the tall, broad-shouldered Gina—and I’ve
always wondered what the attraction was. It’s not unusual for those who will
one day bear the same duty to be drawn together. This was the case for Kate and
me… and Diana, Layla, and Meg. But not Ash. Even as children in the nursery,
she and the two future hunters were a solid threesome, as inseparable as the
five of us.

           
“Well, are
you heading down, or is your plan to stand there all day looking foolish?”

           
I pause a
moment, uncertain. I didn’t initially intend to come to the Pit today, and a
sudden unease at her finding me here makes my cheeks feel hot, which is
ludicrous. I grip the edge of the blanket, thinking how intimate it must
look—me carrying such a thing down into the Pit. But when she haughtily crosses
her arms over her chest, an irritation goads me, and I narrow my eyes at her. I
shouldn’t let her ruffle me; she isn’t my keeper.

           
“That’s
none of your business.”
 

           
I scowl
at her, and with a huff, she takes her leave, tossing me a disdainful look over
her shoulder. I sigh heavily. I never had this kind of trouble until Kate
decided to have her say on the platform. The moment she left I became a central
focal point as one of her closest friends. I growl inside a little, but I had
my chance to leave with her and didn’t take it.
 
Ash, on the other hand, has no right to treat
me indignantly. She was mated long before I was and still has not conceived. I
place a hand over my belly, and with full malice, I silently wish the ugly,
hairy Bruce upon her.

           
I find
Chad
busily running in place when I arrive. He wipes his forearm across his sweaty
brow, a curious smile edging onto his lips as I push through the gate.

           
“You
couldn’t stay away from me, I see.” His breath is heavy, and he laughs when I
roll my eyes. I take a step into the room, tossing the blanket onto his mat.

           
“Aren’t
you full of humor?” I shrug my pouch strap up and over my head, depositing it
at my feet. “I come and go as I please, thank you very much.”

           
His eyes crinkle
in the corners, and I stifle a smile and sit. He plops down beside me, breath
heavy, and wipes his face with the end of his shirt.

           
“I don’t
mind,” he says, working to control his breathing. “You can come every day, and
I won’t mind.”

           
His words
make me happy, as impractical as they are, and I’m about to say so when a jailer
appears at the gate, yanking it open and shoving a tray of bread and water
through. I stare at her.

           
“That’s
it?” I frown. “That’s all he gets?”

           
“Yes,”
she growls. “And you get nothing.”
           
The slamming gate echoes as
she leaves.

           
“It’s
okay,”
Chad
smiles. “At least this is my second meal today.”

           
I cross
my arms over my chest, irritated. “You’ve performed your duty well,
Chad
.
You deserve more than this.” I huff once. “I wish those jailers would stop with
this nonsense and get back to work.”

           
I surprise
myself as the words spill from my mouth.
Chad
simply stares at me, because I’ve never spoken in this way before, claiming
that he deserves anything. I smile and nod toward the tray.

           
“Go on
and eat.”

           
He sidles
over, picks up the bread and chomps on it. After a moment, he scoops up the clay
cup of water and settles on the mat beside me.

           
“How are
you feeling?” he asks. “After being sick in the night?”

           
I smile
at the familiarity in his voice. “I feel fine.”

           
“Yes.
Because you woke up here.” His grin returns. “In my arms.”