Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (20 page)

Read Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Online

Authors: Nazarea Andrews

Tags: #Social situations, #YA dystopian romance, #Beauty and the beast, #Grimm, #Futuristic romance, #Teen science fantasy romance, #Dragon romance, #Teen series, #Faerie tale, #Retelling, #YA Grimm, #Twilight, #Teen dystopian, #Divergent

BOOK: Edge of the Falls (After the Fall)
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I blink, startled from my thoughts. Arjun is glaring at his partner, but the sky-dark eyes are focused on me as he smirks. “She thinks this is especially idiotic.”

Shock makes my mouth fall open and he clarifies, “Arjun, not you.”

“Enough,” Arjun growls, so guttural it is almost indecipherable.

Merc glances at him, lazily unconcerned, and then stands, stretching. “Ready?”

Arjun looks to me.

No. I’m not. Not ready to leave this tiny cave that has somehow become mine, not ready to leave the pack that is warming to me, not ready to leave Merc with his quiet, unorthodox affection, Jade, Gali—even Rook.

I am so very far from ready. I look away, around the small stone room, memorizing it, even though it is imprinted on my mind. I use the moment to wipe my tears away, and when I turn back, offer them a watery smile. If they notice the tear tracks, they are kind enough not to mention them. I nod, and my voice is surprisingly steady when I answer, “I’m ready.”

Chapter 19

The forest is silent as I follow Merc down the mountain. He sets a quick pace, and my breathing is heavy as I struggle to keep up. I stumble and Arjun catches me before I land in a grove of bright purple poison plants.

He growls, a loud rumble that pulls Merc to a halt. The other wolf looks back, impatient. “We need to get clear of the woods,” he says, looking around.

“We need to get her there safely,” Arjun snaps.

I hold up a hand, shaking free of Arjun. “Stop coddling me,” I say to him, pushing my hair back. “And Merc, slow down just a little. I can’t keep up with you.” They stare at me, and I huff, a little out of breath. It startles them into motion and they range around me, circling back to guide me over a stream. Graylight barely filters through the forest, shrouding us in darkness thicker than I am used to.

They call back and forth, wild undulating cries that are both startling and familiar. Under the noise of our trek, the woods are silent, the birds and small forest animals gone still and quiet in the presence of the ban-wolves.

It reminds me that they are dangerous, predators. That I once feared them. The thought is strange, like looking through the Shield—it twists and distorts things slightly, making them at once familiar and unrecognizable. How could I have been that girl? I wonder. How can I go
back
to being that girl?

How can anything be the same after this?

We reach the edge of the forest late in the afternoon and Arjun decides to camp in the shade of the trees. I sniffle, rubbing my dripping nose on my soft mittens. I half-sleep as we wait for the rabbit roasting over a small fire to be ready, even though it makes me queasy. Watching grease drip into the flames, I can’t help but think about its death. Merc had been walking at my side when it darted across our path, and he had caught it, splitting open its soft belly so quickly I had been unable to follow the movement. I had seen the bright eyes dim. At the time, I had wondered if I would be able to stomach it.

Now, after walking for several hours, I find I am able to push the death from my mind in anticipation of food.

“How long will it take to reach the Manor?” I ask.

“At our current pace? Tomorrow night,” Merc answers, around a yawn.

That soon. I feel the familiar panic and pain building and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. It seems almost natural to count as I reach for calm, the numbers a rolling litany in my mind. Ten. Twenty. Again.

My breathing slows, and I open my eyes again. Arjun is leaning over me and his voice is low, full of tension, when he asks, “Sabah, are you okay?”

I want to laugh. Cry. Scream. Instead, I flash him a bright smile, and nod. “Fine.”

 

**

 

Our pace quickens in the open. The ground lifts in gentle hills around us in all directions as we leave the mountains and forest behind. They darken to a smudge on the horizon, rising into the black sky like gray thumbprint. But I could find it, if I wanted to—I could find the cave.

“Rook doesn’t care that I know how to get back to the caves,” I say, after we have been walking for a while. I feel them exchange a look over my head. “Why?” I ask, though I think I know the answer.

Merc makes a disgusted sound in his throat. “Tell her, Arjun. She deserves the truth.”

I stop, turning to look at Arjun. He’s glaring at Merc again. “Arjun?” I say, softly.

His eyes are full of sadness and regret, so broken they pull a sound of distress from me.

“The pack left. Rook and Gali and Jade should be gone by now and were the last in the cave. When we leave you at the Manor, we’re going to meet them—the cave holds nothing that can betray our location to the Commission.”

I hear what he isn’t saying, what he is careful to avoid, with Merc watching us. After the acidstorm, they have fled to the safe haven of their City.

“Why?” I whisper, my eyes darting between the two ban-wolves. One is lazy and disinterested, one looking so devastated I wonder if I am wrong—is leaving me outside Mlena what he really wants?

I shake the seeds of doubt before they can offer false hope, gritting my teeth.

“Berg. The Commission—even the Mistress. Rook doesn’t want you to be used against us by them—so we’re leaving before you can be,” Merc says when Arjun doesn’t respond.

It makes sense. In a way, I am grateful. But it is a slight gratitude, overshadowed by the knowledge that he will be truly gone. Hearing it so definitively forces me to acknowledge the small hope I have harbored—that he will still run the Shield. That he will watch me, from afar. That I still matter, that he cares, even if only a tiny bit.

I turn away. “We need to keep moving.”

“Sabah,” Arjun says, catching my arm in a gentle grip. “I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

I smile at him, and cannot believe that anyone—especially Arjun—would ever believe it was real. “It’s nothing, Arjun. My life is there.”

He releases me abruptly, his eyes going blank. Nods. “As long as you’re happy.”

I want to scream at him, want to slap that hatefully blank look off his face and force him to see how
not
happy I am. Pride is the only thing that keeps me from breaking down.

Stripped of him, I cling to what I have: dignity and pride. If he doesn’t care, I will not let him see how much I still do.

 

**

 

As darkness deepens, Arjun scouts ahead, looking for somewhere suitable to make camp for the night. Merc walks beside me, and casually says, “You know where we are going, then?”

I look at him, startled. Before I can blank my face, he nods, seeing the truth in my eyes.

“It’s a chance, Sabah. At a life,” he says.

“It’s a very good chance for the pack,” I agree.

“He’ll miss you.”

I shrug. “He’ll survive.”

A short, derisive laugh answers me, and we lapse into silence. Arjun screams from somewhere ahead of us, and I glance at Merc, questioningly.

“He found a place to camp, ahead,” Merc says, his pace lengthening. I hurry to keep up with his long stride. Something is bothering me, and I touch his arm.

“Wait,” I say. We slow, and he looks at me. “What do you think of this?” I ask, quickly. “Of me, staying at the Manor?”

“I think you’re both being idiots,” he says without hesitation. “But you have to see that for yourself.”

He smiles at me then, a smile free of complacency, and disgust and judgment—a smile that is pure and sweet and sad.

 

**

 

The fire has burned down, and Merc is sleeping. Arjun holds me against his chest as I watch the flames. He’s quiet, watching the darkness that surrounds us. “Arjun.”

He murmurs into my hair and I twist in his arms to stare up at him. “I have something for you.”

I’ve been thinking about it, since talking to Merc before we made camp. I don’t want to leave Arjun tomorrow, especially now that I know it will be a final goodbye. But staying with him is not an option that I have either.

I slip out the small picture, and squelch the lingering feeling that this is betraying Berg—even if he goes to the City, he will be able to see me, visit me. Arjun won’t. That will make up for one small photo.

Arjun’s golden eyes stare at it for a long time, and then find mine. They’re dark, and somehow remote, removed. “What is this for?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t want you to forget me,” I whisper, ducking down to hide against his chest.

Arjun makes a noise that sets my pulse racing, and his claws prickle against my scalp as he clutches my hair, pulling me up to face him. “I could never forget you,” he whispers fiercely, and I make a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a cry. His lips are on mine, demanding, hungry, like a force of nature. I whimper against him, twisting and pulling him closer—can he be any closer? His mouth moves over mine hungrily, and he nips at my lower lip, so gentle his sharp teeth do not even break skin.

I taste salt in the same heartbeat he does. He pulls away, and his expression softens, the heat fading away in the face of my tears. “It’s not goodbye, Sabah,” he murmurs, “not yet. We still have a few days—until you can talk to your Mistress and Berg.”

His words seem to loosen something in me, an impossible tightness I did not even realize was there. I gasp a full breath, and feel almost dizzy. He smiles, and pulls me down, stroking my hair. “Sleep, sweetheart. You have a long day tomorrow.”

 

Chapter 20

We are walking slowly, hand in hand—knowing he is leaving me here, I cannot release him until I
have
to. The river is a steady gurgle at first, gradually gaining momentum until it rushes past us in its bed, racing to a sharp plunge and jagged rocks.

Distantly, I can see the glow of City lights.

Merc and Arjun stop at a bend in the river, exchanging a look. Merc looks at me, and he smiles lazily. “Remember to think about what I said, Sabah,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I nod, and he steps back. “I’ll wait for you,” he says, glancing at Arjun.

My ban-wolf nods, tense.

The wind is pushing at me, stinging my legs through the thick pants. In my socks and boots, my toes are numb. I know the Manor is warm, safe, a fire is roaring in the study and the kitchen, and Lilith is setting the table—even after a month away, I know the routine they follow.

And yet I am rooted, unable to move, waiting for some signal from Arjun. He reaches up, catching a tendril of my hair around his claw. “Give me your hand,” he whispers.

I hesitate before I extend it, palm up. Faster than I can follow, he has something silky and supple tied around my wrist. “It is only right you have a token of me as well,” he murmurs.

I nod, refusing to look down. He swims in my vision, and I roll my eyes up, hating that he will see me cry. Again. I do not want to cry.

He kisses me, so unbearably softly it pulls a shudder of longing and grief from me. And then he pushes me, lightly, toward the house. “Go, Sabah. I’ll be here—waiting. You know where to find us.”

I stumble a little, shifting my pack on my shoulders. Behind me, I hear a soft rustle of movement. I don’t look—if I look back at him, I will never go forward, never go back into the Manor. I will forget pride and dignity and beg to stay with him.

I stop by the big pine, and assess the house. It’s quiet, but lights are gleaming behind the window shields. Somewhere, in there, are secrets none of us ever guessed. And the friend who loves me, in his flawed way.

I take a deep breath, and focus on my children—Kaida, the boys, Spiro, Sari and Keeyla—the children I have raised and cared for. I straighten my shoulders, and can almost feel the warmth of Arjun’s lips as I stride to the side door.

The smell of stew and bread is so strong it makes my knees weak. It is my first thought, as heat soaks into me and I close the door soundlessly behind me. The tiny alcove is full of cloaks and shoes and the smell of home.

I can hear humming, soft and off-key, Cook’s habit when no one is around to listen. She has her back turned to me when I enter the kitchen, and for a moment, I just stand in silence, watching her move around the counter, slicing and stirring and humming to herself.

I let my bag drop to the ground and she jerks around.

Cook’s eyes widen so slightly I would have missed it if I wasn’t watching for it. Then her lips compress in a thin line and she shakes her head at me. “Best get yourself cleaned up, and go see Mistress—dinner will wait.”

“I can’t just slip in at dinner?” I ask, grinning. She snorts, and I sigh. “No, I suppose not.”

Cook watches me with a critical eye as I pull my wet sweater off. “You’ve lost weight, girlie.”

I shrug. “Food is a bit scarce Outside.”

I turn away before she can voice the questions I see in her eyes. “Mistress is in her study?” I ask, leaving. I don’t wait for an answer—of course she is. Where else would she be? As I climb the stairs, a thousand memories assail me, all tainted with the new knowledge of the secrets hidden by the woman we trusted.

I should take a moment to change, to clean up and brush my hair. I don’t—I am not ready to face the children, and the more time I spend in the halls of the house, the greater the chances of them finding me. The anger that has simmered in me for days has a target, and I
want
to confront her. So I dart up the stairs, skipping the fourth one—the squeaky floorboard will draw anyone curious within hearing range.

I breathe easier when I am in the flickering darkness of the third floor. Mistress has always spent most of her time in the dark halls of the third floor, the quiet rooms behind closed doors—and in all my years within the walls of the Manor, I have never pushed that solitude. I have never entered her quiet study or invaded her space without invitation.

I pause in the hallway—wondering if my hesitation and fear will rise. I feel almost empty without them. When they don’t come, I move forward, to the only door with a strip of light glowing from beneath it.

Without knocking, I open the door, and slip inside. In the silence, I watch them, bent over a book and tablet, her voice a soft murmur as he scribbles notes. They look up slowly, as if reluctant to be pulled from their work. I smile at them, icy cold.

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