Dark Future (24 page)

“Not legally,” he said, shooting me a glance. “You’re the wife of my heart, but no laws bind us. I might’ve broken the Elders’ laws, but not religious taboos. Plus, neither one of us is a healer. We are not depriving anyone of our abilities.”

“Yes, but neither is she. They’re stronger together, and she even attributes her new powers to Zimm.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to make society believe that.”

I sighed. This was not the conversation I wanted to have. Quinn would have to fight her own battles. God knows, she let me fight mine. There was other more pressing information I wanted to know. “How did the Elders catch up with you?”

ConRad sighed and rubbed the base of his neck with his hand. “That’s another reason I’m upset with Zimm. Originally there’d only been five horses, one for each person. But a few days after we left you, Zimm—reckless idiot—wasn’t paying attention and his horse stumbled and went lame. We had to put her down, which meant Quinn and Zimm were riding double. Syon had us on the run. Damn bloodhound didn’t let up for a minute, having fresher horses and better supplies. I should’ve followed my instincts and gone off on my own. I would’ve found him and killed the bastard already. Instead, I’m running. Again.”

I hadn’t told ConRad about my own failed attempt at murder. If he knew, it would be one more reason for him to lock me safely up in the Sanctuary. And Lord knows he didn’t need another. My hand fluttered over my belly. This child would be my one-way ticket to nine months of confinement. I couldn’t bear being separated from ConRad. And child or not, The Prophesy would never be fulfilled with me tucked away somewhere safe.

“What happened?” I needed to hear the rest.

ConRad adjusted the pack to his opposite shoulder. He shrugged his shoulders as if easing stiff muscles. His movements were subtle, but I knew him. ConRad was tense.

“It was early in the morning and we were exhausted. The night before we believed we’d covered our tracks enough so we could rest till dawn, but they found us. In the end there was no choice . . . I knew who they were after. I gave my horse to Zimm and led the Elders away from the group on foot. I was able to avoid capture for three days, but the lack of food and sleep took its toll. I was finally caught.”

I’d thought he’d end the story there with his face an impassive mask, and his body closed off from all emotion. But he took a breath and pushed through as if the words were poison and he had to expel the venom.

“When they caught me, Syon had his men tie my hands behind my back. Then . . . Syon forced me at gunpoint to walk with him alone into the forest.” ConRad stopped talking and, for a long moment, we walked in silence. He wouldn’t look at me, but stared straight ahead putting an emotional distance between us with each step.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, tell him it was okay, but the barrier between us was too thick. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you had to do to survive, I understand. I’d
never think less of you because of it.”

He pierced me with the blue of his eyes. “You think I’d
let
him? You think this was about me? Some things
are
worse than death, Kris. He knows that and it sickens me. And yet you think I wouldn’t take a little pain to prevent
that
? Do you even know me at all?” He looked at me with disgust and my gut tightened with shame.

“He didn’t just want to rape me. If he did, he could’ve done so at any time. He wants me willing. That’s his game. And he knows that the only way he’d get that from me is through you. But the link between us works both ways, and I knew what he’d do. So that’s why I had you promise to never leave the Sanctuary.”

My heart broke at his words. I’d almost betrayed him. Almost betrayed him by giving Syon the means to break him, bend him to his will.

ConRad stopped walking and stared out into the horizon. He swallowed hard and dragged a ragged breath deep into his lungs as if to steel himself with courage. “I had to make you promise, because, Kris, everyone has their limits. And—God please forgive me—but mine . . . is you.”

Chapter Thirty-two

B
y mid-afternoon we’d made it to a ragtag camp, thrown together with battered tents and scanty lean-tos. Clothes were hung on branches and the smell of cooked squirrel and unwashed bodies ripened the air. I was surprised. When I’d last left the group, Red and Tank were the only soldiers, now over forty men milled about. Some of the men I knew from the compound; others had the look of being farmers. As ConRad and I walked into the camp, >men still loyal to their Commander in Chief stood in respect. ConRad was greeted with salutes and pats on the back, and even I received a hug from Red, which had ConRad arching his brow.

ConRad and Zimm left quickly after they showed us to our new camp to meet with some of the higher-ranked men. Quinn led me toward a fallen log that was used as a seat around a low campfire. We watched as our lunch sizzled in a flat iron pan and passed a canteen of water back and forth, content to observe the other soldiers work. The camp hummed with repressed energy. Guns were cleaned, knives sharpened, and weary guards patrolled the perimeter, their fingers never far from the triggers.

“Where did all these men come from?” I plucked at the collar of my damp shirt and blew down the opening to cool my skin. The afternoon was hot and the clearing provided little shade.

“All over,” Quinn said, in her typical non-forthcoming manner. She sat beside me, legs out stretched and crossed at the ankles, hair tucked behind her ears. For wearing such a male getup, military uniform and black combat boots, she looked decidedly feminine.

I threw her my famous deadpan look, which spoke multitudes about my lack of patience.

“Sorry,” she said, with a sheepish grin. “I communicate with Zimm simply by thinking the conversation in my mind. I forget with others I need to talk. Some have left their farms, others their posts—the word’s spreading.”

“And exactly what word is that?” Pulling information from Quinn was an exercise in persistence.

“Kris.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Look around you. This . . . is the Rebellion.”

The words made me edgy. Her tone was light and awe inspiring, as if she were witnessing a thing of beauty.

And she will incite a nation to rebel
. The word
Rebellion
made me uneasy. The term was a synonym for death. “Why?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer.

“Look,” she said, pointing to an older man, his shirt taut against the swell of his belly, his face already reddened from the sun. He seemed awkward with his weapon as he adjusted the strap numerous times, trying to find a good fit. A less likely warrior would be harder to fine. I wondered why he’d leave his life of comfort to live as an outlaw.

“That’s Ana’s husband,” Quinn said, readnn said,ing my thoughts again. “Word spread of the Elders’ corruption and the torture that is going on in the prison. People are sick of being under the Elders’ heavy yoke, tired of their daughters being sold to the highest bidder. And . . . ,” her words trailed off as she cleared her throat, “there’s suspicion around the number of stillborn female babies.”

Stillborn female babies.
I remembered the deadened look in Ana’s sunken eyes after she came back from the so-called birthing room. As per the custom, she’d been alone with the special sect of Elders. And now with Quinn’s implication . . . the thought was too monstrous to comprehend. “You don’t think?”

Quinn shrugged. “I don’t
know
. Not for sure anyways. The Prophesy is fulfilled by a woman. What better way to keep it from happening than to prevent the child from ever living?”

I gasped and wrapped my arms around my middle. I barely had time to acknowledge the life growing inside me, but a deep primal instinct to protect had already roared awake.

Quinn’s sad eyes found mine, and she patted my knee with her sun-spotted hand. “That’s only my theory. Most people, if they have any suspicions at all, think it’s a way for the Elders to keep control over society. What better way to keep men under control than by doling out females to only the obedient?”

I looked around at the camp. “It must be more than just a suspicion for all these men to become outlaws.”

Quinn nodded. “There is no more noble cause than safeguarding our children, fighting for the chance at a better life. The men heard of you and your band of rebels. Many came to pledge their loyalty.”

My heart quickened at the thought.
My band of rebels?

“They thought the sacrifice was worth it,” Quinn said, her voice solemn, the rounding of her shoulders no longer casual. Her blue eyes found mine. “Kris, we all have sacrifices to make.”

I came to my feet. “What exactly are you saying, Quinn? I’ve made sacrifices. I’ve given plenty for a cause I wasn’t even sure existed.” How
dare
she? Quinn had no right to ask any more from me, and I was about to tell her where she could stick her damn Prophesy.

Then her irises darkened, and blackness invaded the white sclera like a poison. Her eyes clouded over and, I couldn’t help it, my body tensed in response.