Mine to Tarnish (8 page)

“It’s probably time to find someplace safe for the night. We both need to get dry and warm.”

“
How are we going to do that out here?” I ask, hoping he’ll reveal one of the hidden hideouts he said they have.

He grins, sparking that strange but pleasant fluttering in me again. “It’s time for you to learn how to survive in the wilderness, Kat.”

Chapter Eleven

H
e was serious about teaching me how to survive. Once he’s found us a place to camp for the night, he sets me to work finding sticks. After I’ve gathered enough to satisfy him, though not nearly as much as he’s gathered, he sends me to pick strawberries from a patch he discovered. This time when I return, he has a rabbit and two squirrels, which he shows me how to skin and prepare for cooking.

I’ve cooked many times, but it’s different to skin them. “Oh posh. I can’t. Its little face is making me feel guilty.” And like throwing up. I’ve handled raw meat many times, but this…

He gently takes the knife from my hands, his words soft yet firm. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow will come too soon. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Almost my whole life. Mary wanted us to help others, but doing that meant we had to find a way to avoid getting in trouble with the law officers or councilmen. It’s harder getting food for a group of people than two tarnished on their own.”

He finishes readying the last squirrel, hanging it over the fire, and I finally feel like I can look at him again. “That was very selfless of Mary and you for assisting her.”

“Mother wouldn’t have it any other way. Ever since we were tarnished, she’s wanted to help those who met our fate.”

Wait, did he just say— “She’s your mother? I thought boys who were tarnished as children were taken away from their families.”

“We are, but mother was… well, you’ve met her. She knows how to get what she wants.”

Except for having him come with her when they escaped from the warlocks pursuing me. “So they let her keep you?”

“No. After my blood tested with no magic, I was tarnished. I don’t remember much except screaming. Mother screaming they couldn’t do this. Me screaming not to leave her. As she tells it now, she was led away at the same time, just to a different depraver than I was. Apparently my lack of magic was enough for Father to get rid of her as well.”

The same would have probably happened to my mother if Jack had been born that way. Father would have found a wife more capable of passing on magic and I would be an only child or have step siblings. As difficult as it’s been since my testing, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it was for him and Mary.

“Once she was tarnished, no one wanted her. Said she was too feisty to take into service so she was left to make her own way. In the tarnished part of town they liked her, and she joined other tarnished not under a warlock. It worked well. She was able to barter for information and eventually found me in a tarnished boy’s home. It didn’t take long to rescue me from that place. Only tarnished work there, and they were delighted to be able to reunite us.

“
Once we were together again, she formed a plan to help other tarnished find their children. It’s evolved a great deal since then, but for the better I think.”

“
She did all that? Came up with the idea that tarnished could gather and collaborate without getting caught?”

“
She did, but some have been caught.” The firelight dances across his features, highlighting his grief.

The fire crackles and pops, filling the air with its smokey scent. I take a hold of his hand. “Does it happen often?”

“Thankfully not.”

“
What happens when you are caught? You’re already tarnished which is what they use to threaten women when just a beating or hexing isn’t enough. What more can they do?”

“
Torture us. Kill us. Tarnished women are taken more than the men.” His face is hard. Fierce. “Those who we haven’t been able to help, or don’t think we help enough, get captured on purpose to find such an end. Of course they hope to be killed, not tortured. Some can’t find a way to support themselves, no owner to take them in, no skills to earn their food and clothing. It’s hard, but I think this life is worth fighting for, worth making better, even if it’s not as fine as the Grand Chancellor's.”

I shiver at the thought, but no matter that it sounds scary, it sounds as if it something worth thinking on. “I believe I’d like to help as well.”

“We’d like that,” he says. “But let’s get you safe first.”

After we eat, he prepares to take the first watch while I settle down next to the fire. In a few hours, he’ll wake me, and we’ll switch. As I drift into sleep, my thoughts are heavy with him and his mother, with what they’re accomplishing.

***

The next morning, we hurry to take camp down and make it appear as if we were never here. Charles sees much more than I do. Long after I think all signs of us are gone, he’s brushing away footsteps and burying the remains of our fire. Once he’s satisfied with it, we start walking again.

There’s no telling which direction the river is anymore. Yet as turned about as I am, Charles knows exactly where we are, which is no surprise with everything he does. It would just be nice to know as well. I meant what I said last night about helping the tarnished. If I can find a way to help, there will be many new things to learn.

It takes several days of walking. The entire time, Charles continues to teach me about how to survive with nothing but nature. It’s good to know, though I think I prefer not having to. I prefer it over living in a cave, but I’m still hoping to find something that makes a good alternative. For now I’m just happy not to be under the rule of an owner.

Charles makes the journey easy to enjoy. He’s there without pressing. He’s unlike any other male I’ve ever known. Much of the time we walk in silence, things peaceful and happy. Other times, he’s quietly pointing things out, telling me more about his life or listening to me talk. I can’t help but feel sad on the morning he says we’re almost to our destination.

We walk for several hours when the forest grows thinner, and he says, “There’s a town here so we don’t want to get too close. The meeting spot isn’t much further.”

“Can we be sure that they can’t track me through the ribbon? I don’t want to repeat the experience of running everyone out of their place of hiding.”

“
They haven’t caught up to us yet.”

“
But they could be too far away still for their magic to work, correct? Perhaps as soon as they grow close enough they’ll be able to. Perhaps it will happen after we reach wherever your friends have gone now.”

“
If it makes you feel better, we’ll use the meet up spot to let them know we’re fine, but we’ll wait several days before joining them at their current hideout.”

“
That would help me feel better about the situation.”

“
We’ll wait it out then.” He takes a hold of my hand, like mine belongs in his. “Let’s see who’s waiting for us and let them know.”

As we walk I ask, “Why don’t you call Mary mother?”

“We don’t let many people know our relationship. If we’re caught, they may keep us together, but if they knew she’s my mother, they’d separate us or worse, use us against each other to tell secrets about our hideouts.”

It’s sad they can’t be more honest about their relationship with their friends, though I like the fact he trusts me with their secret.

A few more minutes, and Helen comes into view. Inwardly, I cringe. Out of everyone who could meet us, why is it her? She hated me before; she must completely despise me now.

“
You’re both alive. Didn’t expect that. Mary said you would come here if you were.” Her tone is more neutral than I expected. Does that mean the hatred is boiling beneath the surface, or that she’s softening toward me?

“
How is everyone?” Charles asks.

“
Did they make it out alive?” I add.

“
They did make it eventually. All are safe.”

I grab hold of the closest tree and let it support me. Bad enough I was the cause of them leaving in the first place. If someone had been caught, injured, or killed because of me, I don’t know how I would fix it. Helen eyes me, her face still expressionless, but I no longer care. Everyone is safe.

“The hideout?” Charles asks.

“
They haven’t found it yet. A few warlocks are still roaming around it, but we’re hopeful. We may be able to use it in the future.”

Though not as important as their lives, it’s their home. I’m grateful I haven't caused that to be lost to them as well.

“Good,” Charles says. “We are going to wait before joining you so we can be certain we don’t endanger everyone again.”

“
You mean to make sure
she
doesn’t endanger anyone.”

I push away from the tree. “It is my fault. I’m sorry. If I had any idea that was possible—”

“It’s drilled into you that your Master always knows where you are and what you are doing.” Her voice is like needles stabbing me over and over again. “Did you think that was a farce? That they don’t really care if their things wander off?”

Despite my guilt and stupidity, despite the poor job I’ve done running away, that’s one thing I will no longer be called. I’ve always supposed it to be true. Now I know it to be true. “I may have made a mistake but I. Am not. A thing.”

Her expression returns to neutral. There’s no hint as to her thoughts on my declaration. But I feel the difference. My chest is bursting with something right and good. Something I should have discovered years ago.

“
I am not a thing,” I continue, “No other woman is a thing, and tarnished are not things. We are people, and we will be treated as such.”

Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to determine my true intention. If she really knew me, it wouldn't be hard to know my words are my true intention. It goes against everything I learned in class, everything Father and Jack tried to shove into me. Everything society has engrained in me. But it is everything,
everything
, that my mother taught. Only she didn’t know how to do anything with that realization. I finally do.

I realize Charles is starting at me, admiration shining through his eyes.

“I suppose I got a little carried away,” I say.

“
No, that was perfect,” he replies.

The warmth in my chest is back, strong and good and right.

“Mary won’t be happy you aren’t coming back right away,” Helen interrupts.

I glare at her. It may be rude, but I wasn’t done with that bright feeling.

“I didn’t think she would be.” Charles sighs. “We need to find a place to stay.”

“
If you’re intent on sticking with this girl, I know a spot you can be safe for some time. It’s got several different ways to escape should they find you.”

More escaping. Lovely. I hope the routes are a more reliable than the rowboat.

“That would be great. Thank you, Helen.” Charles discusses details with her before we part ways. There’s no mention of a boat or water, so I hope that means an easier escape. We give hurried good-byes, and she watches us depart.

“
The place we can stay isn’t far. It's just in town,” Charles says.

“
In town? I thought we were avoiding town.”

“
She said there’s no one searching for you here. We probably won’t pass many people if we take the back roads. Plus, it’s an actual house with food, clothes, and real beds.”

I barely remember what that's like any more. “
That would be a welcome change.”

“
There will be something to help your wrist. Some bandages at least, maybe even some medicine.”

“
That would be even better.”

We walk for another twenty minutes or so when town comes into view.

“Just pretend we belong,” Charles says.

“
In dirty clothes?” My hair probably looks a mess as well, and I have no face paint to speak of.

“
At least they’re dry. And you did a good job mending them.”

“
Clothes are one thing I can do. Father would never admit it, but the clothes I sewed always sold the best, and for the most money.”

“
He was a fool for not admitting it. An even bigger fool for selling you off, but I’m glad he did.” We exchange a glance that has my heart fluttering. He clears his throat. “We’d best get to safety.”

“
Of course.”

Before we even step into town, I lower my face. I follow him through town on dusty streets, the back ones clear of people like he expected. The thought of a place so close to freshen up makes it easy to keep up with his fast pace. Though perhaps not as much as the idea of spending more time getting to know him. The prospect puts a bounce in my step.

“It’s just around the corner,” Charles says over his shoulder.

We’re almost there! Clean house, hopefully relatively safe. We walk around the corner, and I chance looking up at our new shelter. My steps freeze. My whole body goes stiff. Panic sets in. Not at the house we're supposed to stay in but at the people to the side of it.