Winterkill (23 page)

I hold tight to the
ceinture
while he fills the dirt around the post. When we're finished with the second one, he looks to the gate where it hangs, high up against the fortification wall. He unties its lashings and lets it fall heavy into the trench. Then he slides a thick pole across the top, between the wall and the new posts, so the gate is impossible to open from the outside.

He dusts off his hands. “All done.” He starts collecting his things.

I can't take it anymore. “Tom, can we speak plain?”

He turns. “I'd appreciate that.”

I take a deep breath, trying to figure where to begin. “I—I want you to know that everything's all right.”

He looks down, retying his
ceinture,
silent.

“Tom?”

When he raises his head, it's plain on his face he doesn't believe me.

“Look,” I say, “we both know I'm not telling you everything, but I need you to believe I'm doing the right thing.”

“Chasing off into the woods is the right thing?”

“I don't chase off into the woods.”

“Sure you do. You ran off just the other day. And returned in Kane's arms, out of your head with fever.”

I shake my head, staring at the ground, but I don't have words to contradict him.

He sighs real heavy. “It was a harsh thing to say the other day, that you're Wayward on purpose—but Almighty! What am I supposed to think?”

“I've got reasons.”

“You're above this, Em.”

And then I'm angry. I'm fed up with him judging my virtues, fussing over my whereabouts. I haven't done anything that hurts anyone. In fact, it's been the opposite. “Mayhap there are worse things.”

“Than what?”

“Being Wayward.”

Tom pauses. “You don't mean that,” he says.

“Don't I? I'm sure you'd rather have Edith safe than me upholding my virtues.”

“What are you speaking on?”

“Harvest, Tom. Edith wasn't with me when the alarm rang. She was all alone. The hall was closing and I ran back to get her. We hid in the well until the fortification was cleared.”

Tom's mouth drops open. “But Ma said—”

“Your ma told you what she told everyone else—what
I
told everyone else.”

His face goes white. “B-b-but surely someone saw you do it?”

“Andre won't tell.” Bleed it! Why did I say his name? I hurry to cover. “The point is, your ma covered her mistake. And I was Wayward because I couldn't bear to leave Edith to the
malmaci
.”

He's quiet a moment, studying the ground. When he looks up, his eyes are full. “Thank you,” he says quiet.

“Don't thank me. It's not why I did it.”

“I know that. I know you did it because . . . because you care for her. But this Wayward business . . .” His chest hitches. “I just don't want anything to happen to you.”

My anger softens. “Nothing will.”

“You aren't yourself anymore.”

I bite back a reply. I want to tell him I'm exactly myself—more myself than I've ever been.

“You're always thinking on something I can't figure.”

“Do you really want to know what I'm thinking on?”

He pushes his blond hair back from his brow. “I know about the proposal.”

I throw up my hands. “Everyone knows!”

“So?”

“So I don't want to bind to him.”

“Why not?”

“Just . . . I don't. I can't.”

“Because of Kane?”

“No! I mean—I . . .”

“Em, if this has something to do with that trail . . .” He doesn't finish.

There's that look again. That longing. Like he wants to know, but he can't bring himself to admit it. I make a decision. “I need to tell you something. Something you can't tell anyone.”

He nods.

“It's about my grandma'am. She wasn't Wayward—not the way everyone thinks.”

His eyes widen. “What makes you say that?”

“I found a letter. Out in the woods.”

“A letter.”

“Yes! I can't explain everything right now, but please believe me when I say it's there. It proves I'm not Stained.”

He doesn't blink.

“And I need to go get it.”

This breaks his staring spell. He closes his eyes, scrubs his hands through his hair. I can see his virtue lecture oncoming and I need to cut it off at the pass. “Em—”

“I just need to go back one more time. It's going to be troublesome, what with everyone on high alert on account of the Taking, so I'll need your help.”

He looks at me, his prairie-sky eyes heavy with rainclouds. “But why does it matter? You're binding to Brother Stockham.”

“Don't you see? I can set my family's name clear. Wipe the Stain clean.”
I can Discover what my grandma'am found in those woods
.

“I've never cared you were Stained, Em. I only want you to be safe.”

The rainclouds in his eyes are threatening to burst. I realize I can't tell him about the rest—about the cabin and the bones and my dreams, about Brother Stockham and Kane. Tom's so used to being scared, it's all he knows. That means he'll forever just put that wheat-haired head down and live his life inside this fort. But if he can't look up, can't see past these walls, then I need to do it for him. And I'll need that book to do it.

“I know. I know you want me safe.” I touch his arm. “And I will be.” My fingers squeeze into his shirt. “Don't tell anyone about the woods? We've always kept one another's secrets—”

He gapes. “One for the other, is that right? I'm supposed to let you put yourself in danger in exchange for keeping
my
dangerous secret? Your Waywardness is the same as mine?”

“Course not. Tom—”

“I can't help my secret! What you're doing . . .” His shoulders sag. “I'm worried.”

My stomach clenches tight. “You've been my friend despite everyone eyeballing me since I was young. I'm telling you I'm doing what I have to.” I say it slow and measured because I'm afraid I'll cry. I bite my lip to stop it from quivering.

His eyes brim with tears.

I squeeze his arm. “I won't do anything that could end me at the Crossroads.”

“Promise?” His face is so trusting, it near breaks me in two.

“Promise.”

But I'm lying. Again. Affirmation is in two days—after that,
La Prise
will be upon us and we'll be locked inside the fortification until the Thaw. And I'll be Brother Stockham's life mate. Promise or no, I have to get back to that cabin. And I think I know a way.

I push the guilt down deep. Then I give Tom a smile I don't feel, and go to find Kane.

I STOP BY SOEUR MANON'S, HOPING SHE HAS
something—anything—for me to run to the Kitchens. She frowns when she sees me, but when I ask, her eyes light up like she's figured something. She smiles. Then she rummages around and finds a bundle of herbs.
“Ils sont des ‘herbes d'amour.'”
Oh, for the grace! I flush to my scalp, take the bundle of love herbs and flee.

When I push into the Kitchens, Sister Lucy is hanging onions to dry. She nods her head toward Storages when she sees my bundle.

He's near the entrance, sleeves rolled up as always, head bare, eyes like dark pools. Relief washes his face when he sees me. He pushes off the wall, unfolding his arms, his mouth pulling into that funny smile. I can't smile back. Blood is rushing in my ears. I'm dragging my foot something terrible too, but I don't care about that right now.

As I approach, his smile falters, his brow crinkles. He looks, for the first time I've ever seen, uncertain. And it's so
unguarded, so honest, that the cabbage moths already flitting in my stomach start thrumming so hard I can barely think.

And I know I'm about to do something foolish.

I glance behind me. Sister Lucy is turned toward the ovens, her back to us. I toss the herb bundle at a crate on the floor. Then, before I can change my mind, I step forward and bury my face in Kane's chest.

He draws me tight to him, his grip iron-strong, chest hard under his shirt. My face is in his neck now: warm skin and woodsmoke. The million cabbage moths soar up and close off the air in my chest.

He pulls me around the corner into the first pantry, closing the door with a free hand. Then he grabs me by the shoulders and draws back. “Em.” His voice is husky and soft: wind whispering through the spruce. “You're all right.”

I manage a nod.

“I was worried. You . . . well, you were so bleeding sick.” He looks at me so long I have to drop my eyes.

I find my voice. “Did—did anyone ask what you were doing? When you found me, I mean.”

“No.” He lets go of my shoulders and steps back.

I miss his hands straightaway, but my head clears a bit. “I'm sorry. For taking you to that cabin, I should have never—”

“Better than you being there alone.”

I swallow. “Bertrand Pellier, from the north—”

“I heard.” Kane's face is troubled.

“Do you think us going out there . . . Did . . . I mean, did we make it angry? Is it our fault?”

“It was a Taking, Em. It wasn't our fault.”

“Was that the
malmaci?
Out there?”

“I don't know for certain. But”—he rubs a hand over his shaved head—“well, at first I thought I was imagining it, but the more I think on it, the more I'm sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“Those voices above us, in the cabin. They were speaking words that sounded like ones my
kokum
used to speak.”

Kokum
. The First Peoples part of his blood. “Your grandma'am.”

He nods.

I stare at his face, trying to figure his meaning. The voices sounded like his
kokum
. Like First Peoples' speech. The First Peoples who used to live on this land? The rush of sound through the woods . . . The creak of the floorboards above us . . . My stomach drops as the pieces fit together.

You see, Clara found something in these woods.

The hair on my neck stands up. Ghosts of the First Peoples—my Lost People. Is that what my grandma'am found out there?

“But what about Brother Stockham? What about those bones?”

“Don't know,” he admits. “But I could read some more of that book for the answers.”

“I dropped it in the cellar.” My voice breaks. Tears well up and spill out.

“Hey, it's all right.” Kane reaches forward, takes my face in his hands and brushes at my cheeks with his thumbs. “We'll get it back.”

I swallow. I'm going to have to tell him my plan for that.

“Should we tell someone?” Kane asks. “Your pa or—”

“No!” I say. “It's just . . . we don't know what's going on yet. And my pa's so hopeful over this proposal—no.” I don't tell Kane about Tom, and I can't admit that even after our scare at the cabin, even knowing how much we're risking, I can't bear to give this up. I want to wash my Stain clean on my own; I want to prove Discovery my own way.

Kane chews on his bottom lip, his eyes searching my face.

Is he having second thoughts? It's not fair of me to expect him to do something he doesn't want to do. “You don't have to . . . to come with me . . .”

“I'm not leaving you on your own.” He frowns. “We do this together.”

I choke back my relief. It takes everything in me not to throw my arms around him again.

“But we'll need to get back to the woods unseen,” he says.

“Won't be easy.”

“Not with Watch and the Councilmen watching everyone.” He blows out a breath. “Almighty.”

Tell him.
“I've figured a way.” I take a breath. “I'm going to tell Brother Stockham yes.”

He pulls back like I've burned him.

I speak quick. “Just for now. I—I think I can convince him to let me go back to the river. Just once more before Affirmation. If I can get to the river, I can get back to the cabin. But Kane—” I grab at his shirt to keep him near. “It's not real. Once I get the journal back . . .” I trail off.

Kane's eyes are unhappy, uncertain again. “Em—”

“It's not real,” I repeat. The rough wool of his shirt between my fingers burns my skin. “You said you wished things were
different. I wish that too—I mean . . . I want . . .” I can't finish. I tug at his shirt.

He lets me pull him closer. “What do you want?” His voice is so soft. It's unbearable.

I can't say it. My heart is beating so fast it's going to jump from my chest. But he's here, he's so close, and he doesn't want me to be alone.

“You.”

He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they aren't uncertain: they're dead sure. He places both hands on the sides of my neck, under my jaw, and pulls my head gentle toward him.