Vanish (14 page)

Chapter 22

T
amra holds my hand as we walk to the center of town. Others are out, walking in a steady stream in the same direction. They stare openly at me through the sifting curls of mist—even point to me. They don’t seem to care that I can see them doing this. And why should they? In their eyes, I’m the one who’s done something wrong and been called before the pride to face public judgment.

Tamra gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

We keep our pace slow enough for Mom. She walks at my other side, squinting at the ribbons of dull light breaking through the mist. Like a mole emerging into day.

When we reach the meeting hall, it’s already crowded. The low drone of conversation dies down as I come into view.

Bodies part, peel back, and allow me to walk up the front steps.

Severin stands there behind the stone railing. The half-dozen elders are there, too, puppets behind him. I’m no fool. The
public
will decide nothing. Whatever happens will be his call.

Cassian does not move to stand among them. I guess he can’t. Not yet. He has no true official capacity. Instead, he takes a position at the front of the gathered onlookers.

I loosen my fingers to release Tamra’s hand and ascend the steps, but she tightens her grip. Doesn’t let go.

“I’ll go with you,” she says.

Az nods encouragingly behind her. Like she agrees that would be best.

“No. I have to go alone.” I doubt they would let anyone stand up there with me anyway. I look from Tamra to Mom to Az. “Wait here.” I give a wobbly smile. For them. “I’ll be back. Everything will be fine.” I say this for them, too. I’m not sure what’s about to happen. My stomach twists, dips in a sickening lurch. Still, I can’t regret returning. I had to. For my family. For Miram and Cassian.

As I stand beside Severin, my infractions are read. He starts with the small.

Neglecting to show up for duty.

Leaving pride grounds without authorization.

I cringe, thinking of the crowd’s reaction if they’d known
why
I had left.
For whom
. That would be yet another infraction. Severin’s voice rolls on.

Flight during daylight hours.

Contact with hunters.

His voice bites the air, hard, emotionless. I can’t stop the bitter thought from entering my head: Of course he won’t mention that he’s the one who set Miram to spy on me.

“We have these rules for the safety and preservation of our pride. For the protection of our race. When one of us holds herself separate and above the laws of the pride, that draki endangers us all.”

I stand with my shoulders back and stare out at the crowd of my brethren. Their expressions are so rapt, so . . . expectant. Something big is about to happen and they know it . . . salivate for it. All of them. I scan the familiar faces, my old friends, neighbors, teachers. Suddenly they seem very
unfamiliar
to me. I long for someone who eases my heart. Someone who has no place here.
Will.

Severin continues, “That is precisely what has happened. Miram, my own daughter, is lost to us forever. Even as I stand here, she is at the mercy of the enkros, suffering untold atrocities. Jacinda must pay for her fault in that.”

There is a slight sound in the gathered crowd at this . . . a general murmur I take as assent. I swallow painfully, staring straight ahead, avoiding looking to my family, at Tamra and Mom, at Az . . . Cassian.

I hold myself as tightly as stretched wire and wait for the final verdict, knowing it has come to this. There will be no sparing me. Not this time. Not again. Severin has decided my fate.

I make a sound, a tortured half-laugh. Who am I kidding? His decision was made the moment I returned without Miram.

Still, I jerk at the announcement:

“There is no choice but to clip the wings of any draki whose continued insubordination puts us all at risk.” He motions to me with a sweep of his hand. “In accordance with ancient tradition, any draki who risks the pride forfeits the gift of flight for however long is necessary.” A hush falls, the silence so deafening I can actually hear the rush of blood to my head.

However long is necessary
. Meaning however long it takes my wings to mend. If they ever do. Sometimes damaged or injured wings can’t heal properly, leaving a draki permanently crippled.

The air comes alive with a sudden shout from Tamra. Her shrill voice reverberates over the humming silence. “No! No! You can’t do this!” Her face burns with more color than I’ve seen on her since she manifested. “It’s barbaric! Leave her alone! There is nothing
just
about this!”

Mom’s face leaches of all color as she wraps an arm around Tamra, holding her back when she looks ready to charge up the steps. Tamra struggles a moment before burying her face against Mom.

Mom’s eyes are no longer dead, no longer empty. But I almost wish they were. Better that than this. So full of anguish and pain.

Severin ignores the outburst, only the slightest tic in his cheek showing he even heard Tamra—or disapproved. It’s Tamra. He still needs her, will tolerate her disruption.

His next command slices through me, cutting deep.

“And Zara must bear responsibility as well.” Severin glances to the elders, as if they might object to him dragging my mother into this, before adding, “Zara is found derelict in her role as a mother and her responsibilities to both child and pride.”

This I did not expect.

“What?” I shout, looking wildly to where my mother stands, her eyes awake, alert and snapping.

Severin continues in a dull monotone. “She is banished and must leave pride grounds at once. From this day hence, she shall no longer be considered a draki and must make her way in the human world.” Severin’s lips curl back from his teeth in a sneer. “As was always her wish.” He adds this with decided relish, and I know he’s enjoying this.

“Wait,” I cry. “I’ll go with her! Banish me, too.”

Severin’s lips bend in a slow curl. “You have no choice in your
punishment
. Besides”—he looks me over coldly, and I feel torn open and bare beneath the thoroughness of his measuring stare—“you will still serve a purpose.”

Curses fly from Tamra’s lips. Az clings to her arm, helping restrain her.

I don’t know what’s worse. The implicit threat that he’ll breed me, my imminent wing clipping, or losing Mom. Each is horrible in its separate way.

All will kill a part of me.

This—combined with letting Will and the dream of us go and bearing the guilt of Miram’s fate—it’s all too much. What else can happen?
What else can I endure?

I freeze, stilling unnaturally as everything whips past me in a blur. Life out of control and me in the center of it all.

I glance around me, up into Nidia’s swirling fog, cloaking our pride. I fantasize about flying into it, escaping with Mom and Tamra.

Only it’s just that. A fantasy.

Severin motions and a pair of guards with their loathsome armbands arrive to escort Mom away. “See that she takes nothing but clothes with her. No gems may leave on her person.”

“Mom!” Tamra screams, then looks desperately to Severin. “Wait! Please let me talk to her. Just a moment alone—”

“So that she can tell you how to contact her?” Severin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but no. As I said, she’s a human now, and draki don’t consort with humans.” His eyes fall to me as he says this and I don’t mistake the accusation there. With a flick of his fingers, Mom is dragged away.

I surge forward but a hard hand on my arm stops me. I try to meet Mom’s gaze. Communicate something, glean something from her. Where will she go? What will she do? How will I ever find her again?

Will I ever find her again?

“Bring forth the cutters.”

This command stirs those around me. More blurring movement, more murmuring voices. I crane my neck, but can’t see Mom anymore—can’t find her in the flurry of activity.

Both my arms are seized and I’m dragged toward a block I notice for the first time, positioned a few feet away on the dais. No one pays attention to my sister when she begs them to stop.

I’m forced to my knees atop the wooden surface.

Apparently they want no one to miss the spectacle. And that’s the way of the pride, I realize. At least as long as Severin is alpha. Rule through fear, through intimidation, through threats, both spoken and indirect. This is Severin’s way and will continue as long as he’s in charge.

I’m commanded to manifest.

I lift my chin, glare straight ahead. They can’t make me.

The command comes louder. Still, I don’t oblige them. Why make it easy?

Grim satisfaction swells inside me as Severin’s face grows splotchy red with anger. He drops heavily beside me, reminding me of his strength and power.

He speaks hard words into my ear, his large hand coming down on the back of my head. “I’m certain I can get your sister to manifest. She’s so untried. It would be an easy thing to inspire fear in her. So what’s it going to be? You? Or Tamra? Either way someone’s getting her wings clipped today.” I turn and stare into his face, hatred for him emanating from me in waves of heat.

I whisper hoarsely, “You wouldn’t—”

His fingers press deep against my skull. “She can still serve her purpose
flightless.
”

Staring into his black eyes, I don’t know whether he’s bluffing or not. But I’m not going to take the chance. I shake off his touch.

I say nothing. I won’t give him the gratification of hearing my agreement. I draw a deep breath and manifest.

My human flesh fades out so quickly I don’t have time to shed my shirt before my wings are pushing free, tearing the fabric with a terrible sound that mimics the rapid stretching and crackling of my bones.

My injured wing quakes, drooping low. It looks broken. Already clipped. A mirthless smile twists my lips. No one cares. It’s about to be crushed anyway.

Even so, it’s probably my fastest manifest. Rage and fear speed it along. I tremble from both. Rage at Severin’s power. Fear for what I’m about to endure. The acrid taste of it laces every sip of breath.

If I wasn’t grasped by both arms, I probably would have lost my balance and fallen off the block.

Terror arcs through me in waves of flashing heat. I can only feel this. Live this now. Endure . . .

Someone arrives bearing the cutters, and then this is all I can see. The glint of the blades inching toward me. They look like large hedge clippers. They look painful.

The crowd is a deafening roar now, a mix of cheering encouragement and sharp protest. At least I think I hear a few shouts of protest. I want to think not everyone agrees I deserve such a punishment. Not everyone hungers for my blood.

My sister’s screams and curses burn my ears, and I know she’s there, tormented at what’s happening.

What’s about to happen.

I can’t help it. I call for her even though I know she can’t help me.

No one can.

She screams my name again and again. Tears stream down my cheeks, hissing on my overheated flesh.

Then, in the mad frenzy, I see Cassian’s face, his deep eyes, stark and alive on me. He’s on the dais now, where he shouldn’t be, shoving his way through the elders to reach me.

I remember then. Hear his deep voice from weeks ago promising to protect me. Or at least try. Does he think he can now? It’s too late.

Only he doesn’t dive for me. He presses close to his father, seizing his arm through his voluminous robe and speaking furiously, his lips moving fast, the color high in his olive-hued cheeks as he motions wildly to me.

I can’t hear his words over the din, but I see that Severin is listening . . . and then he looks at me again, his gaze thoughtful, considering.

I cry out as I’m forced to turn around and present my back to the pride. My gaze darts wildly, seeing nothing but the front double doors of the meeting hall before me.

This is it.

Hands grasp my wings, stretch the wiry-thin membrane uncomfortably taut. I gasp at how much this hurts my injured wing.

I compress my lips and steam escapes my nostrils. Fingers poke and prod, searching for the best place to cut. Bile surges in my throat. I feel violated, ravaged, from the rough groping.

Instinctively, fire surges to the back of my throat, ready to defend, to protect myself. I bite my lip until the taste of blood flows over my teeth. Coppery sweet, it mingles with the flavor of char and ash.

A hard hand shoves my head down until my chin touches my chest. The pose forces my back into a high curve. My wings stretch tall above me, on display, the fiery gossamer sheets poised for the perfect cut.

I hiss, tremble violently as the first cold tip of steel touches one of the wiry tendons latticing my right wing.

The hands on my arms grip harder, squeeze until I can’t feel the blood in my biceps. . . .

“Don’t move,” a voice warns. “I’d hate to take off your entire wing.”

I choke on a sob and hold still. Then I’m free.

No one touches me anymore. No cold steel kisses my wing, ready to break and sever. . . .

I stumble off the block. Fall to the concrete. Tears sting my eyes, clouding the vision of Cassian standing above me, looking down at me with unnaturally bright eyes, his chest lifting on heated breaths.

Severin’s voice booms across the air, silencing the rumblings of the pride. “An alternative to the wing clipping has been proposed and deemed acceptable.”

My head whips in the direction of Severin. Hope springs in my heart and I can only think that I’ll do it. Whatever it is. Any alternative would be better.

What could be worse than being hobbled, potentially crippled for life?

“Should Jacinda agree to enter into bonding on this day with Cassian she shall be spared. . . .”

All heat drains from my body. I’m cold inside.

I rise shakily, stand distant and still as any statue overlooking the sea of stunned faces. However, none more stunned than mine.