The Scent of Lilac: An Arrow's Flight Novella (16 page)

           
“Leah,” I
repeat. “You came.”

           
“I can’t
stay long,” she answers. “But I had to know how you’re managing.”

           
“I’m
not.” I peer at her, tears welling. “I’m not managing at all. I’m... barely
existing.”

           
Her eyes
dart downward to my protruding belly. “The pregnancy appears healthy.”

           
I pin her
with my eyes. “Yes.”

           
“Good,”
she nods. “This with help your case.”

           
“My
case?” My heartbeat thrums, frantic. “What is going to happen to me?”

           
“If all
goes well, nothing. Once your punishment is complete, you will be allowed to
return to your life.”

           
“And what
is my punishment?” I dare to ask.

           
“This.”
Leah nods with a glance around the cave. I crease my brow.

           
“For how
long?”

           
She
purses her lips a moment. “Until the child is weaned.”

           
 
This announcement hammers me like an avalanche
of sharp rocks boring down on top of my head. I break away from her and scuttle
to my feet.

           
“No, no,
no, no!” I spin, hands pressed to my temples, and take her in with angry eyes.
“You can’t let them do this to me, Leah. You can’t think to leave me here. I
won’t survive this.” With a sob I fall to my knees before her and bury my face
in her skirt. “Please, please, please. Anything but this.”

           
Her hand
falls onto my head. She caresses my hair a moment while I hopelessly weep into
her lap, before she twists her fist into my tresses and gently pulls my head
upward. I focus on her through my tears.

           
“Enough,”
she commands. Oddly, her voice carries a harsh tenderness that makes me hold my
breath on a hiccup. “Count yourself lucky, Mia. If Mona were still in charge,
she would have skinned you alive already for what you’ve done. You have been shown
mercy. Be grateful for it.”

           
“Be
grateful?” I yank free and stand, anger riddling me all the way to my bones. “And
what is my crime? Have any one of you asked me what it is that I’ve done?” I
wipe at my tears with the backs of my hands. “Everyone simply assumes, but no
one cares to know the truth.”

           
“And what
is the truth?”

           
She
waits. I shake my head. It won’t matter what I say; she’ll see it as guilt.

           
“Where is
Bridget?” I ask instead.

           
Leah
wipes at the wet stain my tears left on her skirt and clasps her hands together
over her knees before looking up at me.

           
“She has
been freed already—for her willingness to answer every question the Council
posed.”

           
I close
my eyes.

           
“What did
she tell you?”

           
 
“Enough to keep you here.”

           
I nod, not
surprised. Blaer warned me.

           
“Bridget
is a follower,” Leah continues. “She will be easily conformed. You, however?
You, I worry about.”

           
I raise
my head, a spark of that courage returning. Leah watches me with steadfast
eyes. I am trapped in this hole, going insane. What do I have to lose by
anything I say? The baby kicks—hard—and I smile.

           
“You
should worry,” I whisper. “Much and often.”

           
My words
hold no weight, not really, but they are enough to spark something in Leah. She
straightens, her face a sheet of alarm, and her mouth drops open.

           
“I’ve
been thinking about some things Kate said.” I cross my arms, take two steps
across the floor. “You leave me in here, and I’ll think some more.”

           
“Mia—”

           
I cut her
off, my tone flooding with anger.

           
“You said
yourself that you saw reason in Kate’s words. And yet you do nothing about it.”

           
“I am a
member of the Council. What I think must be surrendered to what I must do. I
don’t like it, but I have no choice.”

           
“But see,
you do,” I insist. “If Kate taught me nothing else, she taught me that regardless
of the Moirai, we always have a choice. And we always have a consequence. The
question is are we willing to suffer it?”

           
Leah
starts to rise, but I move in, blocking her, and she settles back.

           
“We know
some things, Leah. We know the Council has lied to us. We know at least one
other village is out there somewhere. But mostly, we understand that there is
such a thing as love. Do you know of it?”

           
I pause
at this, and Leah visibly swallows.
 

           
“It’s
unstoppable. So the Council can continue to harass us. It can beat us, it can
manipulate us into submission, but it’s all very clear to me now.”

           
“What
is?” Leah tenses, her voice filled with trepidation, and for a moment, I am
fearless.

           
“That you
can hang Meg. You can slit Layla’s throat. You can lock me in and toss away the
key. One by one you can dispose of us, but there will always be a Kate or a
Blaer... or another brave girl to replace us. Because the spirit is resilient,
and love is courageous.” My hand falls over my baby. “I’m just beginning to
understand this.”

           
I step
aside, and Leah rises and moves for the gate where a jailer waits to let her
out.

           
“You’re a
coward, Leah,” I say quietly. She stops, glances back at me over her shoulder.
“I would know. I’ve been one for a very long time.”

           
Leah
refuses to look at me again. She stalks out, full of importance, and the gate
rattles fiercely when the jailer slams it into place. I watch her through the
bars as she pulls her shawl up over her head and disappears into the rain.

           
My bravery
slides into the pit of my stomach and turns it sour. For all my words, I’m
still here. And here I will stay. But in the fleeting bits of my courage, I
make a silent promise: I refuse to let this place drive me mad.

           
Just
outside the gate and slightly to the left, I see a small stone. Squatting, I
stretch to my limit through the bars until the very tips of my fingers find it.
A quick flick, and I manage to edge it closer. I clench it in my fist.

           
I
estimate that I am roughly four months from my time. I take the stone and with
it, I dig into the cave wall until a vertical mark appears. Mark one of
seventeen months. I step back, satisfied. Keep track of the days to keep track
of my mind.

           
I slip
the stone into the pocket of my skirt and stretch out onto the mat to wait for
the breakfast cart.

 
have no other
option but to adjust. I spend days memorizing the indentations on the ceiling. And
after counting one hundred-thirty two times, I am certain there are nine
hundred eighty-seven separate notches. The cave is ten of my steps from side
wall to side wall and fifteen of my steps from the gate to the back. And not
one of the ten bamboo bars are the same width around.

           
Sometimes,
I draw pictures in the dirt, but mostly I sleep.

           
I talk to
my baby. I tell him how the river sounds and what a bird looks like in flight.
I whisper to him that he will be born under the sign of the Goat and that I promise
to teach him how to read... once I learn myself. I describe
Chad
to him, but it makes me sad, so I only do this once.

           
I talk to
myself, too, which helps with the loneliness. I imagine that someone is here
with me, consoling me. Protecting me. There’s a peace in it, as if an unseen
presence hovers, and I begin to wonder if there truly is someone here with me
or if I’m finally going mad. Either way, I’m grateful for it. It makes my days
shorter and my nights long and restful. It lessens my fear. And the marks on
the wall accumulate, and I believe that I am sane.

           
The gate
clangs every day at the same times, and a jailer deposits my tray. So I’m
surprised one afternoon when the gate opens and Leah walks through carrying my
lunch.

           
I rise to
my feet and face her.

           
“Hello
Mia.”

           
I nod
without answering. She stands stiffly, the tray tight in her grip.

           
“Rabbit
today,” she offers, dipping her chin toward the plate. Another awkward moment,
and I take the tray from her.

           
“Why did
you come?” I ask.

           
She
weaves her fingers together and lowers her eyes. “I don’t like how things ended
between us the last time I was here. And… there is trouble in the Village. I’m
afraid we are once again losing control.”

           
I stare
at her, not willing to show any kind of concern or comfort. She deserves
nothing from me. We sit in silence until finally, she licks her lips, paces a
few steps.

“We’ve had to secure several
women in the Pit who have defied the Moirai. The others aren’t pleased.”

           
“I see.”
I settle somewhat ungracefully onto my mat and lower the tray down beside me.
“And why do you feel the need to share this with me?”

           
Another
pause. I take that moment to tear a piece of meat from the bone. Leah faces the
gate, hands on hips, and speaks with her back to me.

           
“Blaer
has gone for Kate.” I stop chewing. Leah turns.
        
“Do you think she will find her?”

           
I shake
my head. “I wouldn’t know. We don’t really know which way she’s gone.”

           
“Could
they have gone.... east?” Leah asks hesitantly. When I nod, she closes her
eyes. “
Eden
is east.”

           
I
straighten. “You know of
Eden
?”

           
“Oh yes.
And I’m certain that is where those boys will take Kate.”

           
“And you want
her to come back?”

           
Leah
paces again. “I’ve consulted with Anna Maria and a few of the others. We think
it’s time. A majority of the women will never accept another leader—not when
Kate’s name was in the box.”

           
I nod. “That’s
why Blaer went after Kate.”

           
“We are
sending scouts to find them all and bring them home.”

           
Her words
flood me with a slight apprehension. “What will you do to them? To Blaer and
Fallon and Gina? Will you punish them?”

           
Leah
smiles. “If Kate is with them, it won’t be our sole decision to make. And no
one hopes Kate is with them more than I.”

           
“Except
for me,” I reply, and Leah laughs.

           
“I will
not dispute that.” She sits. “Can you hold on a little longer, Mia?”

           
As much
as the idea sickens me, I feel hope for the first time. I toss my eyes toward the
marks on the wall.

           
“Yes,” I
reply.

           
Leah
reaches for my hand and squeezes.

*

           
I’m awakened
by screams. They echo across the Pit in rounds. I lumber to my feet and press
my face against the bars.

           
“Hello? Is
anybody out there?”

           
The
answer is another scream. It comes from the left, and when the next one hurls
itself into the air, I know what it is. Someone is in labor.

           
This
time, the scream is followed by thick sobs, and a murmuring voice far down the
line of cells calls out: “Something is wrong! Help me, pleeeeeease… someone
hel—”

           
Her
pleading is stopped by another pain that sends her voice into another hurtling
wail, and my heart begins to beat against my throat.

           
“Somebody!”
I yell, my face squeezed between the bars. “Somebody help her! Please!”

           
The
alternate screaming and sobbing continues through the night. I sit by the gate,
clutching one bar in my fist, and long with her that the baby will come soon. I
close my eyes, try to find the peace inside the presence, but tonight, the cave
feels empty.

           
Just
before the sun lifts its face above the mountains, the screaming subsides into
deathly silence. I hear no baby’s cry, and I fear the worst.

           
When the
breakfast cart appears, I still sit at the gate, but the jailer shoves into me
when she opens it. I stand.

           
“There
was a woman screaming all night a few cells over. I think you’d better check on
her right away.”

           
The
jailer peers at me, blinks once, and closes the gate. She leaves the cart and
moves down the row, and I press my face into the bars, straining to see to no
avail. Soon, her gruff voice calls out, and two more jailers come trudging
past. They mumble among themselves in low voices—too low for me to hear what
they say. But when one passes by again, I see the look in her eye plain enough.
The breeder is dead… perhaps the child, too.

           
I sink
onto the mat, numb, and I wrap my arms around myself. How could this happen?
How could the Council have been so thoughtless as to lock away a breeder so
close to her time and not keep watch over her?

           
The other
two jailers haul the bodies past my cell, a hulking heap wrapped in a bloody
blanket, and nausea settles in my throat. I fight it back and turn my eyes
away.

           
The anger
comes on slow and deliberate at first, like a fire moving across a field of dry
grass. Then a wind kicks up, the fire flares and spreads in a rush, and I am
enraged. I spring to my feet, squeeze my fists into tight balls. I didn’t see
who the girl was, but I’m sure I knew her. I know all the breeders. And what
had she done to deserve imprisonment? What infraction did the Council hold
against her? Was she also loyal to Kate? Or had she rescued her mate from this
dungeon, too?

           
I clench
my jaw, fight the angry tears that threaten. None of us have done anything that
deserves this.

           
My
breakfast is cold, and I eat only because I must. I can’t keep the image of the
jailers hauling away the dead out of my mind. And I can’t help but think that
the girl very well could have been me. When it is time for this baby to come,
will I be alone with no one to aid me?

           
I shiver
this thought away. These are the things that could drive me mad.

           
Just past
dusk, Leah ducks into the cave and joins me on the edge of the mat. Her solemn
eyes rest on me.

           
“Who was
it?” I ask.

           
“Fern.”

           
I nod.
Fern was a year older. This was her second child.

           
“Why did
this happen? The midwife should have been on watch for her already.”

           
Leah
shakes her head. “It wasn’t her time. The baby was three months early. Nobody
expected this. And nothing could have been done for her.”

           
I gawk at
her, unable to speak.

           
“I
understand how upset you must be,” she continues. “You and Fern were the only
ones in this section. The jailers claim they heard nothing.”

           
“They
didn’t,” I whisper. Leah eases her hand toward mine.

           
“Don’t
worry, Mia. I will make it my own personal agenda to see to it that you have a
midwife on watch long before your time comes.”

           
“Then
you’d best start sending her now,” I answer flatly. “Because if I’ve counted
correctly, I am two months from
my
time.”

           
Leah
lifts a brow, jarred by my clipped announcement. I merely stare at her. My
anger hasn’t burned off just yet.

           
“I won’t let
anything happen to you.” Her words are firm and steady.

           
I want to
believe her. I try to.

           
But then…
morning comes... and everything changes.

*

           
The
jailer opens the gate for the two guards. I barely have time to roll over on
the mat before they enter and haul me to my feet.

           
“Wh—What’s
happening?” I stammer, sleep still heavy in my voice. “What are you doing?”

           
They
plant me in the middle of the room, and I stagger on shaky feet until one of
them grabs my elbow and steadies me. The other one gestures toward the open
doorway.

           
“The
Council has called an assembly. We’re to take you to the clearing.”

           
“The
clearing?” I straighten, brushing the sleep from my eyes, and look at the guard
still gripping my elbow. Ruth. She sweeps her hand toward the entrance again,
but I hold my place, my eyes widening with a sudden, familiar fear. “What for?”

           
“We know
as much as you do.”

           
A cold
chill eases down the length of my spine. The baby feels it and gives me a hard
kick. There are only ever two reasons we are summoned to the clearing: for a
celebration… or an execution.

           
I
swallow, clench my fists. “I’d rather not go.”

           
Ruth frowns,
shifts in her brown leather uniform. “You have no choice, Mia.”

           
I step
away and bump into the chest of the other guard. She looms over me by at least
a head, and both her hands clamp onto my upper arms. A draft sweeps into the
cave causing the bamboo to whistle like an out-of-tune wooden instrument, and
every ounce of peace that I felt just yesterday vanishes.

           
“You can
walk, or we can drag you out,” she says, her fingers tightening around my arms.

           
My eyes
drift toward the markings etched into the wall. Thirty-three notches. Thirty-three
days of my life have passed by, and this just since I started counting. This
reality jabs me in the gut and my shoulders sag. What good will it do to fight
them? Whether I’m being summoned for a celebration or for my own execution, I
can’t gain one single day back. And what would be braver? To fight them here
and still be dragged to the clearing or to face whatever is in store for me on
my own terms? I know what Kate would have done. Another tense minute, and I
jerk out of the guard’s grip and exit the cave. They follow.

           
The walk
to the ladder is a long, silent one, and it doesn’t escape me that of all the
women purportedly locked in the Pit, I am the only one the guards fetch. This
conclusion makes me even more wary as I struggle to climb the ladder against my
weight. Safely at the top, I face Ruth.

           
“Am I to
be set free?”

           
This is
my wishful thinking rising to the surface. I fear the worst. Ruth glances at me
with piercing green eyes outlined by a yellow circle around the edges.

           
“We
weren’t told any details. Only to bring you at once.”

           
“Only
me?”

           
“Only
you.”

           
“And who
ordered it?”

           
She
doesn’t answer, instead walking away. The other guard, I don’t recall her name
at all, nudges me until I move forward and set my gait to match Ruth’s. The
lump already lodged in my throat swells a size, and I say nothing more, but my
thoughts stampede through my head. Perhaps the Council has changed its mind
about my punishment. The cold sensation invading my spine seems to freeze,
choking out any possibility of warmth. I am doomed.