The Offering (15 page)

We stayed close to these trade routes, using the map Caspar had marked for us to show which roads were safe, and which were most treacherous.

I tried to imagine what it had been like centuries ago, before Sabara—with Ludania in its prime—when vehicles like these had been plentiful, and all of the roads running in every direction had been teeming with them, day and night. When technology had been on our side, and fuel had been plentiful.

For decades now trains had been our most dependable source of transportation, and now many of the rail lines were under repair after Xander's revolutionaries had destroyed them in his efforts to overthrow his grandmother.

Ludania was in sad shape.

“You know, it's hard to concentrate with the two of you breathing down my neck,” Eden grumbled. Her point was emphasized when we hit yet another hole in the pocked ground and the VAN pitched, throwing both Brook and me backward into a pile on the gritty floor.

“Oomph,” I gasped when Brook landed on top of me. She floundered, like she was having a hard time getting up, and I half-believed she was doing it on purpose, trying to get a rise out of me as she became an uncoordinated mass of elbows and knees—everything Brook wasn't.

I shoved her off me when she wasn't making enough progress on her own.

She laughed at my attempts to free myself. “You, Layla,” she accused between giggles, “make a terrible cushion. It's like you were
trying
to be lumpy.”

“Well,
you
,” I shot back, deciding to play along with this more jovial Brooklynn, and grabbing a handrail to pull myself up, “are an even worse guard. Shouldn't you have tried to catch me or something?” I brushed the sand from my backside decisively.

Brook's eyebrow lifted as she started to say something more, but then Eden called out, “HOLE!” in warning.

Brook and I both reached for the rail just as one of the giant tires dropped into another of the craters in the ground and the VAN listed heavily to the side.

We both giggled now and clung to the bar. We refused to let go as Eden continued to shout out warnings. It became a game to us, seeing which of us could stay on our feet the longest.

Brook won, like she always did in feats of strength or agility, and eventually I had to call a truce when both my arm and my head were aching. I released the bar and wandered down the short aisle, then sank onto one of the thinly padded benches. I stared out ahead, still marveling at the panoramic view spread before us. From behind me Brooklynn began rummaging through crates that had been crammed together on the shelving to keep them from shifting.

The rocking motion of the VAN, which had at first been jarring, began to take on a rhythmic motion, lulling me as
exhaustion took its toll. Sure, I'd slept, but not soundly, with Brook's bunk right at my back, and not nearly long enough, since Eden had woken us before the sun had risen.

My eyes had just started to drift close when I heard Brooklynn's voice, low and filled with awe. “Man, these kids have some serious firepower. Check out this Stinger, Charlie.”

“Layla,” Eden corrected from the front of the VAN, and I wondered how she'd even heard us above the rumble of the engine, which sounded like successive bomb detonations.

“Yeah, right . . . Layla. Check out this Stinger,
Layla
,” Brook drawled, and I turned to see what had her so enthralled.

The Brook I'd grown up with had always enjoyed the finer points of femininity: wearing pretty dresses, impractical shoes with tall heels, dancing with boys, kissing.

The Brook I stared at now would most surely have preferred a switchblade to a high heel, or a grenade launcher to a party gown. I could tell as much when I saw her stroking the shiny carbon crossbow she held, with its sleek scope and fine-tipped arrow. It looked like it was fresh from the manufacturer, which it likely was, considering the work camp had been a munitions factory. Still, it was hard to imagine that these kids had access to so much firepower. As far as I'd known, only the military had access to items like these, not wards of work camps who'd been abandoned and forgotten. Sabara still had so many secrets I had yet to discover.

I jumped up from my seat, as fascinated by the firearm as Brook was. “Wow,” I breathed, rubbing my fingertips over the smooth metal surface.

“You wanna hold it?” Brook handed the crossbow to me,
and I took it deftly, weighing and appraising its quality, and wishing we were out in the open so I could try it out. I lifted it so I could peer through the high-powered scope. “Maybe when we stop, I'll teach you to shoot,” Brook told me, and my head jerked back in alarm.

I was suddenly aware that Brook had no idea what I could do with this thing. For all her portentous talk about there being no secrets in the palace, she had no idea I'd been training with Zafir all this time. All at once I couldn't wait for a “lesson” with Brooklynn. I wanted to show her what a quick learner I could be.

I grinned back at her. “That's the best idea I've heard all day,” I answered, handing the crossbow back to her and trying to look a little clumsier as I did so.

She didn't seem to notice my sudden ineptitude as she turned her attention to Eden. “How'd you talk 'em into letting us take all this? It's like an arsenal back here.”

Eden's reflection shot Brook an exasperated look from the mirror that hung above her. “You think my brother was going to send us out in the VAN unarmed? He's young. He's not stupid,” she explained, as if Brook were both—young
and
stupid.

Brook shrugged. “Okay, so how is it that these kids still have all this stuff? And why hasn't anyone noticed and come to take it from them? These are military-grade weapons. None of this stuff is easy to come by. What if Queen Elena or someone else discovers their little operation? Do you think she'll just leave them alone because they're a bunch of kids? They have no adult supervision. No protection.”

“They don't need protecting—” Eden started to answer, but Brook stopped her, her eyes narrowing as if she'd just thought of something more.

“Come to think of it, how
are
they able to take care of themselves?” She held up her hand, interrupting Eden once again. “And don't say hunting. I saw how many of them there are. There's got to be more to it than catching some squirrels and fish.” Her eyes went wide, as if a thought had come to her. “They're not . . . They wouldn't . . .” She pursed her lips then. “If you ask me, they haven't shut down entirely. I bet they're still doing some manufacturing over there. Maybe not on the same scale, of course, but I bet they're using whatever materials they have left to make weapons.” Brook straightened her shoulders as she waited for Eden to meet her eyes in the mirror. “Eden, if those kids are selling weapons and you knew about it . . .” The implication in her words was clear.

Eden didn't respond to Brook's allegations, whether because she had no knowledge of what Brook was accusing Caspar and the others of, or because she was protecting her brother's secrets, I didn't know. Eden looked away from Brook, and her stare became transfixed, as did all of ours, out the window in front of us. The VAN became silent except for the rumble of the engine, as we all watched the land flatten and lengthen, the ground leveling out until it looked like something that might never end. We could see forever from where we sat, but the scenery never seemed to change. It felt as if we were stuck in one place. As if the ground beneath us were moving but we remained in one place.

Only when the tires on Eden's side fell into a rut, and she
had to swerve to maneuver out of it, were we reminded that we were still forging ahead.

“Fine,” Brook relented, as if the VAN's sudden lurch were Eden's response. “No questions about the supplies. So what about Caspar, then? Can I ask about him?”

Eden's black expression eased a little as she scowled less from the mirror, which Brooklynn took as permission to go ahead.

“What happened? I mean, to your parents? How did the two of you end up in that place?”

It wasn't what Eden had expected, and her scowl returned, as sour as ever. “They died.”

“And you didn't have relatives?”

“Nope.”

“No family friends who would take you in?”

The muscle in the side of Eden's jaw jumped, the only visible sign she was even bothered. “Not both of us,” she answered.

“How old were you?”

I found myself straining forward on my seat as Brook's questions became my own. The only difference was that she was brave enough to voice them aloud.

“Twelve,” Eden replied.

Brook was relentless, undeterred by Eden's abrupt responses. “So Caspar was . . .”

I saw Eden's eyes flick back once in the reflection, but only once. “Was what?” she asked, being intentionally obtuse.

“You know exactly what I'm asking. How old was
he
?”

“Five.”

I flinched as if Eden had shot me with the crossbow, the
arrow finding my heart. I thought of Angelina. I couldn't help myself. At five years old she was so little, so innocent. The idea of her in a place like that, especially the way it had been when the chief had been in charge . . . I couldn't fathom it.

“Ouch,” Brook stated flatly, her thoughts likely similar to my own.

“We were fine. We had each other.” Eden sounded so convinced, so sure of herself, that I almost believed her.

Then Brook said the words that skewered that belief, deflating my confidence in Eden's avowals. “But you left him. Why'd you do that?”

That was when my entire world started to spin. Not literally, but very nearly. The VAN tilted one way, and then the other, and even though I wasn't sure what was happening, I knew enough to hang on for dear life. I clutched the seat back in front of me, just before my chin clipped it as I was tossed forward.

Brook wasn't as lucky. She didn't find anything she could grip fast enough. She fell, and landed like lead against the floorboards, slamming into them face-first.

It all happened so quickly—the unexpected careening, the rocking back and forth. I found myself fighting with gravity, which sucked and pulled at my body, trying to move me all at once to the front of the VAN. While behind and all around me I heard items falling off the shelves and rattling along the floor.

And then just as quickly everything moved in the opposite direction, and I was abruptly pinned against the back of my seat. My head flew back and smacked the bench behind me.

When it all stopped—when the VAN had finally come to a full and complete stop—and everything was still and silent at last, I lifted my head to assess our situation.

Supplies littered the aisle, and dust hung in the air.

Brook didn't seem nearly as confused as I felt, and she shot up from the floor, looking like a hornet, ready to sting. “Why'd you do that?” she accused, and still I had trouble discerning why she was so angry. “Why on earth would you do that?” she demanded as she strode furiously toward Eden.

Eden sprang up too.

My mind was as cluttered as the VAN now, and the dawning that Eden had done this on purpose, by slamming on the brakes, came entirely too slowly.

But Eden didn't back down when Brooklynn confronted her. She approached Brook with just as much will, and I could feel my hackles rising as the situation escalated.

“You have no business questioning my motives,” Eden barked in Brooklynn's face. “You know nothing of our lives before Xander. Nothing about what I had to give up to join his rebellion. Or even why I did it.”

“I know I wouldn't have left that little boy—”

Without warning Eden swung at Brook. I reacted too, jumping out of my seat and hurtling toward them, not sure what my plan was but knowing that nothing good could come from the two of them coming to blows.

“Stop!” I shouted, but I was too late. Eden's fist found its target, crashing hard into Brook's jaw.

Brook staggered backward, momentarily dazed by the blow. But it lasted only a moment, and Brook came back up
almost as fast as she'd gone down. Before I could shout again, she was launching herself at Eden.

I'd seen Brook fight one other time, the day she and Xander's troops had stormed the palace. The day Sabara's Essence had fused into me.

But that day I'd been too weak, and too concerned with other matters, to realize how capable Brook was. My parents and Aron had both been taken hostage and tortured by Sabara. And I'd been concerned about my sister, whom Sabara would just as willingly have taken if I hadn't said the words first, sparing Angelina.

I knew Brook could wield weapons and strategize with the best of them. Otherwise I'd never have made her the commander of my armed forces. But with her unarmed, I half-expected Eden to lay Brook flat after a couple of well-placed blows. Turns out, I'd underestimated Brook's ability to defend herself hand to hand.

They were well matched, these two women. Too well matched for my liking, and I watched as Brook landed a solid punch to the lower right side of Eden's back, making her double over and wince in agony. And just when I thought Brook had the upper hand and Eden might back down, Eden turned, still huddled over, and launched a kick straight at Brook's chest, sending her staggering back once more.

I turned on my heel and rushed toward the rear of the VAN, deciding I couldn't let this go on or someone would end up buried in the rocky soil before we reached the border. I was irritated enough by their childish behavior that when my finger stroked the trigger, I barely had to swallow back a sliver of guilt over what I had to do.

When I released the safety, both of their heads snapped up,
as if they'd been conditioned to identify the sound of deadly arms and react to it.

“You wouldn't.” Eden's eyes narrowed as they focused on the crossbow I held, directed at the two of them.