Burning Bridges (6 page)

It was wrong to consciously or even unconsciously think about the boy, but he was so…different, if that made any sense. When you
’
re accustomed to being told
‘
yes
’
all your life and some unknown stranger comes along and tells you
‘
no
’
, it
’
s a feeling so foreign…so remarkable, even, that it leads you to do crazy things. In my case, it was finding out exactly who this Ayden was.

“
Echo!
”
Issy
’
s hard voice pierced my thoughts as they veered back to reality. I glanced out the window and saw Clover, the city
’
s only decent tailor, waving over at us. The carriage slowed to a stop in front of her store and Mother was the first to climb out.

“
I already know the perfect dress,
”
she said, pulling a magazine catalog out of her purse. She flipped through it as Isobeli and I emerged from the carriage and made our way inside the store. Everything smelled like perfume and make up, hairspray and paint. Hues of pink here and colors of orange there. I knew they were going for a classy look, but the whole thing just looked tacky to me.

“
Welcome to
Madam Renaldi
’
s
, is there anything I could help you with
, my Queen
?
”
Clover asked, curtseying politely for my mother.

I glanced around the small store, suddenly plagued by rainbow
s
of dresses I
was bound
to try on. Dresses were Everlae
’
s thing, or even Isobeli
’
s. Dresses and me? That was a match made in Hell.

“
Good morning, Miss Othman,
”
Mother replied sweetly.
“
We
’
re not going to be here long, Echo just came to try on a few dresses for the ball tomorrow.
”
She indicated to a page on the catalog where a fairly thin woman posed in a dress
the color of eggplants
.

“
Oh, of course!
”
Clover
’
s eyes went wide with excitement.
“
The ball with the Prince, correct?
”

I nodded and allowed her to usher me to a dressing stall where she began taking my measurements and pushing dresses into my hands for me to try on. Not only did I hate dresses and all their overrated glory, I couldn
’
t figure the damn things out. When I tried on dress number one, the corset didn
’
t seem to want to stay in place and I
’
d worked up such a fuss to get in it that by the time I had it on right, the bottom ruffles looked wrinkled and disheveled.

When I got to dress number fifty-four some hours later and Mother still wasn
’
t satisfied, I knew I had had enough. I held my face in my hands, back pressed against the wall, as I sat on the
cold
linoleum floor. I really didn
’
t want to go tomorrow, but what other choice did I have? Upsetting Father surely wasn
’
t a smart one.

A soft whisper came from outside the window of the stall. It was faint at first
,
but it grew louder as I listened in. It was a humming—maybe of a song—and i
t was so compelling that it caused
me
to
stop entirely. I crawled over and peeked out the curtains.

It was the boy. His back was to me, but I knew it was him. His mussed, dark
tresses were
wild and unruly. He was too busy working in Clover
’
s garden, taking shovels to the dirt, to notice me or anyone for the matter. He whistled to himself as he worked and I couldn
’
t stop my eyes from taking advantage of his obliviousness. I
’
d noticed his arms before, the
inky
tribal tattoos and the way they stood out on his Amaretto-colored skin, but not like this. His taut muscles
flexed as he worked and beads of sweat dripped
from
him in the heat.
He
’
s strong
, I concluded. He
carried
a large sack of soil and
over his shoulder and brought it to a shed
. Again, his muscles worked as he moved.

Very strong.

I swallowed the saliva in
my mouth and groaned.
Echo, what are you thinking?
I thought loudly to myself. I mentally shook myself off, but sighed when the feelings still remained.
This is dangerous.

“
Darling, are you all right in there? How
’
s the dress coming along?
”
Mother called.

I glanced over at the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and frowned. If having half the dress on and the other on the floor counted as
‘
coming along
’
, then yeah, I
’
d say I was doing just fine.
“
I
’
m good, Mother. I
’
ll be out in a minute.
”
As I said it, my eyes went back to the window.

I had to talk to him.

In spite of all the alarms that had gone off in my mind between the time it took me to unlock the latch of the window and swing a foot out, I dropped myself into the bushes below and quietly made my way over to him.

The plan was to talk to him, try to reason with him about the night before, but as I stopped a good feet behind him, words evaded me. What was I going to s
ay? Sorry for bumping into you
? The thing was, I didn
’
t know what I did to be sorry about.

Suddenly he stood straight and
jammed his shovel into the soil
. Without turning to face me, he said,
“
What do you want?
”

I sighed, cover blown and fully exposed.
“
How did you know it was me?
”

“
You mean besides the fact that I could feel your eyes burning a
hole
to the back of my head from that window? Hm, no, I really don
’
t know what gave you away.
”
He began digging again, carrying on with his duties as if I wasn
’
t standing there.

“
Excuse me, but I just wanted to talk to you.
”

He turned around
and his violet eyes pinned me with a stare.
“
So talk.
”

“
I—I just want…
”
I stammered.
“
I just wanted to apologize for whatever I did to upset you that night.
”

He cocked his head at me.
“
That was three nights ago.
”

“
I know, but—
”

“
But nothing,
”
he interrupted, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“
You
’
re forgiven. I suggest you head back to your tea party before the Queen throws a royal fit.
”

The words fe
ll from his lips with every intention
to hurt me. There was a
second when
I thought about going back inside, but he
’
d made a challenge out of this and I wasn
’
t prepared to back down quite yet.

“
What is the matter with you?
”
I asked him.
“
You—you look angry all the time and you have this weird air about you. I don
’
t see how I
’
m the cause
,
but you sure aren
’
t giving me any reason not to assume.
”

“
Is that so?
”
he
asked
rhetorically
. He laughed, but I didn
’
t find anything about this funny.

“
Yes, I think so. If I did anything wrong just—
”

The amused smile fell from his godly face. Anger became evident where indifference had once vacated and he dropped the shovel to reach for me. His hands came out, but they merely grazed my skin. He thought twice before laying a hand on me. Instead, he brought his face as close to mine as he possibly could without physical contact.

“
You should go,
”
he whispered, his warm breath tickling my nose. From his proximity I could smell the virile scent of clovers and leather on his skin. As overwhelming as it was, the temptation to get even closer pushed me a step
forward
.
“
You don
’
t want to be seen with me.
”

“
I have every right to be here, you cannot make me go,
”
I whispered, my lips unwillingly trembling as I spoke. My eyes dropped to his biceps and a shiver broke through me at the sight of his markings.
“
You
’
re a Hunter…
”

I opened my mouth to continue on just as Mother
’
s voice called from the window.
“
Echo, what is taking so long!
”

He was first to break the embrace
,
and as
the
feet grew between us, a cold rush filled my lungs, leaving me speechless and confused.
The desire to
know this boy
was stronger now than ever
.

I sighed.
“
This isn
’
t over,
”
I said to him.

He smiled wryly, picking up the shovel to finish the day
’
s work.
“
Yes, Princess, it is.
”

S I X

Ayden

B
y the time
King Valentine was
dead and gone, this nation had
evolved into
something wicked and vile
. Kylon, Thediby, Delentia, and Siphon
’
s City belonge
d to New Haven and the Warriors.
Shadow Hills, Loracre, Prylyn, and Raycliffe remained with the Hunters. Eight cities and two havens all divided by a single border, in which rules not only controlled the amount of steps you took in a day, but was powerful enough to threaten your life, your family, and what little freedom you had.

Painfully, as the Princess walked away from me and I discreetly watched her leave, I felt the urge to break every one of those rules and throw caution to the wind. It wasn
’
t conscious thinking, I knew, it was just impulse and being caught up in the moment with her. In reality, I despised her and her wretched family with a burning passion. Rules didn
’
t apply for them; they were shown mercy and appraised with every step they took. Time was nothing of value; life was nothing but a game.

As for us—the unlucky chumps who
’
d lost this game of life over and over again—our days were measured by the breaths we took, tallied by scars and tears. Time was of the essence and every move you made was watched.

Rules
, I thought to myself with a shake of my head.
Some rules they are
.

From around the store I could
hear
the Princess and her parade getting into her
coach
. The Queen was loud
,
of course, shouting things about posture and perfect etiquette. I
had
the urge to
watch them leave, but instinct told me better. I had a
few minutes
left of work and I
’
d planned to stop by Giovanni
’
s afterwards. I had no time for distractions.

I shoveled the rest of the dirt into the flowerbeds and carried the wheelbarrow back to the shed. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I glanced around the small garden with a sigh. Gardening was the all time low. I knew I
had hit rock bottom. I worked seventy-two
hours a
week, and yet the income was
barely
enough to put food on the table. Father
’
s debt with the King seemed to be going
nowhere
any time soon
and Mother was too ill to work. Luck—
again,
that was the
only
reason
why
any of us were still alive.

“
I
’
m leaving now, Miss Othman,
”
I called to the store owner, making my way through the back door. The place was oddly quiet and empty, so I walked to the front desk where I was told to
leave the shed
’
s keys
. Today was only my first day and I knew I didn
’
t like the job. The woman barely looked at me twice before she barked at me to get to work.

The stack of crisp bills and gold coins lying open in the cashier
made me pause
.
I
scanned the store for the owner or
even
a
single
customer
.

I was alone
.

I knew
it would be the only time I
’
d ever see so much, the first and the last. It called out to me, pleading with a seductive comm
and
to take it and never think twice about the damage. Doubt sought out for me, but the pull of greed laughed wickedly as it drew me nearer to succumbing.
I
tried to convince myself that it was for my family, a
onetime
thing. I would pay Miss Othman back. I would.

I cl
osed my eyes for a brief moment and cursed
myself for what I was about to do, and gathered the money in my pocket. My hea
rt
palpitated
at a dangerous
pace
as
I left the keys on the desk and left the store as fast as I could.

I took all the alleys I found to get back home, not wanting to chance running into a guard with what I presumed was over a hundred thousand dollars
in
my pocket. Now that I had done it, I felt shamefully guilty for breaking a vow to myself. Stealing from the King was one thing, and no doubt any less despicable, but stealing from a retail shop not only humiliated me, but made me feel hopeless. Had it really come to this? Stealing, of all things?

It
’
s for your family.

I was
desperate, and desperately so. I was s
triving for some sort of resolution, light at the end of the tunnel, a cease to all my struggles—really, anything. My family wasn
’
t perfect, but they deserved more. With my mother sick and Father too drunk to notice that Milo was never home and Misty hadn
’
t eaten in weeks, a good majority of our welfare had befallen on me. Seeing as I had just stolen money—again—I
’
d say I was off to a pretty bad start.

If things didn
’
t get better soon, they never would
, a voice whispered in my mind. My conscious, maybe, but I knew it was the truth. I wouldn
’
t result to stealing, not again. I
’
d never been a dishonest man and I didn
’
t want to start. If my life was going to slowly deteriorate, I wanted to go a prideful man.
I would find another way of caring for them.

The money in my pocket felt suddenly heavy. The urge to turn around and return it all became overpowering, the guilt more than anything else.
Lost in my strangling thoughts
,
I barely registered anything when a
big
,
hefty
hand fell
on my shoulder and
quickly spun me around
.

Tyron.

The frown that settled on my face at the sight of him was obvious. I glared at his bloodshot eyes and his forced smile, his filthy hair and huge form. I managed to get out a shaky,
“
What
’
s up?
”

He smiled a devious smile.
“
Just taking a stroll,
”
he said. Behind him, from my peripheral vision, I could see his
friends
closing us in a tight circle. Suddenly, the air seemed sparse.
“
What are you up to?
”

“
Going home.
”
My eyes went to his one-hundred-pounded-and-all-muscled friends.
They watched me impassively.
If the money was heavy in my pocket before, well, it was about ready to burst a seam now.

“
How come you don
’
t hang with us anymore, Ayd?
It
’
s been a
while and we miss you
.
”
The other guys laughed at his blatant mockery.

“
Has it been? I didn
’
t notice.
”
My jaw clenched as I spoke.
“
I
’
ve been really busy. We
’
ll hang out, just not now.
”
I pushed past the circle of boys in front of me and shuffled through the dirty streets as fast as I could without looking hasty. The need to get away consumed me.

“
Not so fast, pretty boy,
”
Tyron called.

I froze and waited with
bated
breath.

“
What
’
s that in your pocket,
”
one of the guys yelled.

Without turning around to face them, I said,
“
It
’
s just a few coins Miss Bluejay gave me for helping her out in her garden.
”
A lie, but not completely.

“
How much,
”
Tyron asked, and I could hear him approaching
me
with stagnant footsteps.

With a quick rake through my mind for a probable excuse, I turned to face him and shrugged, acting as if I didn
’
t hold a fortune in my pocket and they didn
’
t know.
“
About four dollars in change. It isn
’
t much, but my brother needs new shoes.
”

Tyron nodded, his shaggy hair swaying loosely on his broad shoulders.
“
Understandable.
”
He casually draped his arm over my shoulder.
“
You see, I have a bit of a financial problem myself. You remember my girl, August, right? Well, she
’
s going through some things and I want to get her something nice. Think you could help me out? Financially, I mean?
”

The request would have come off as sincere if I didn
’
t know the type of man Tyron was. I
’
d never met an August a day in my life, but in retrospect, it was safe to assume this August was another one of the
many women
from
Prylyn he managed to impregnate
.

“
Sorry to hear that, but I can
’
t help you out.
”
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and took a step away from him. His demeanor had taken on a different
range
then, and his posed smile had faded. From the corner of my eyes I could see the others
closing in
again, and that
’
s when it occurred to me that they weren
’
t going to let me go without discovering what—or rather,
how much
—was in my pocket.

Tension between the seven of us grew heavy, and embracing the moment as a fight or flight, I swung my fist out at the redhead to my left and got him straight in the nose. He grunted and staggered back, but my victory was short-lived as I felt two pairs of hands clamp around my arms and hold them behind my head. The position forced my eyes on Tyron, his arms crossed over his chest and lips curved into a sadistic smile as he watched with the others while I struggled to get free. I wasn
’
t weak, but then again, Tyron and his fellows weren
’
t exactly human with all the drugs they took.

“
Ayden, Ayden, Ayden,
”
Tyron cooed, pacing towards me slowly.
“
When are you going to learn that I always—
”
His fist struck my lower abdomen, a blow so ha
rd it went straight to my head, and confused
my vision and caus
ed
my heart rate to increase tenfold.
“
That I always get what I want.
”
He rolled up his sleeve
,
and
even through my blurred vision
I could make out the tribal ta
ttoos on his forearm, marks
so different from any that I
’
d seen.

Hunters were known for their animalistic incorporations
in their art, and even in their
tattoos. My family
’
s symbol was a scorpion, a sign that portrayed wisdom and humility that was passed down from generation to generation. Others had ranged from a wasp to a python, but never had I seen anything like the one Tyron bore on his arm. The asp—vicious and inky—stared back at me as if it could sense that I reeked of fear. Fear that I wouldn
’
t fulfill the promise
s
to my family, and fear that once Tyron discovered the money in my pocket I wouldn
’
t even have the time to reminisce before I was locked up and thrown into the arena. 

Another blow to my chest forced all thoughts out of my head. I knew it wasn
’
t Tyron this time because I felt the i
mprint of a ring. As I bent for
ward
to desperately keep what little lunch I had in my stomach, the strong hands around my arms released me and I fell to the floor.