Chapter Thirty
Fern
They leave me alone for the rest of the day. They bring me food and juice, and check in with me, but otherwise, they let me doze.
I drift off, dreaming fitfully.
I’m angry. I’m so angry, I can barely see straight.
At one point, my anger forces me to tears, and I sob silently, ashamed, into a pillow.
How dare they. How dare they bring me back. How dare they try to impregnate me. How dare they kill my parents. How dare they take over every major country on the planet.
I cry until I fall asleep.
But my sleep is light and restless. And full of the rich smell of smoke, good, safe smoke, like a woodstove. And reminding me of Ben.
When I wake fully, the sky is dark and my eyes immediately flick to the open door.
Can I get out the window in time? I look to the window and take stock of things—hesitation heavy in my mind—but even as I do so, Arch appears in the doorway.
Fuck.
He steps towards the bed and holds out his hand. “Come, bride. Let’s eat. Theo made some bolognese sauce with some frozen venison for the pasta I got at market last week.”
I blink, surprised that I’m not being strapped to a bench for punishment. Surprised to hear the term “bolognese” again, after my father—the cook of the family—died.
I struggle to sit up, muscles sore. Arch looks like he wants to help me but he doesn’t touch me.
Good. Fucker.
I stand of my own volition, ignoring his hand. He sighs and gestures for me to lead the way. I do, heading—naked—to the kitchen.
The smell is amazing, there is no use denying that. My mouth waters as I take in Ben, standing behind Theo, his arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck. I clear my throat, awkwardness dancing through me.
They turn languidly.
“Ah, sweetling.” Theo smiles, all ease and light. “I’m glad to see you awake.”
Ben turns and strides to a stool at the island. “Here, flower, we don’t want you to be cold.”
He holds out a floor length robe.
My eyebrows draw together, suspicious.
But I step forward and let him put it on me. It’s heavy and lined. I pull the belt tight.
“Thank you.” I attempt to not sound as grumpy as I am.
“Sit, please,” murmurs Arch, indicating the stool, even as he slips into the one next to me.
I do, and Ben and Theo go back to finishing dinner. Ben chops sweet peppers and carrots and adds them to a large bowl of greens. Salad. I love salad. When Ben opens a cupboard and pulls down a glass jar, I gasp.
“Are those...raisins?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes,” he says as he tilts his head. “We have river-grape vines that cover the arbor out back, near the fire pit. They are wonderful for grape juice. The leavings can be dried for a type of raisin.” He steps across to the island and places a good-sized handful in front of me.
“Wow,” I whisper. I don’t have grapes in my small garden. Nor does any family in my compound. “Do you can the juice? Or...?”
Arch answers, “We usually can some, taking a day or two extra off to get it done, but even for three it is still a lot of work.”
I answer without thinking, a mantra my father repeated, “Many hands make light work.”
All three of these idiots grin at me. I take a few raisins in my mouth and Ben turns, adding some to the salad. The dried fruit hits my tongue, perfectly tart and rich and the exact texture I remember. Damn, these are fantastic.
I sit, savoring the raisins Ben gave me, as they finish making dinner. Arch sits beside me silently. He eventually stands, going to help dish food. He turns and nods towards the table. “Go sit, bride. I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” He smiles.
I stand slowly, tugging my robe tighter around me, as if it will protect me from them. I step to the table, our places set and waiting. I sit slowly, looking back at them. The moment my eyes are upon them, they all spin away, going back to what they were doing.
Dinner is awkward; they all chatter of inconsequential things, and heap servings of food on my plate.
I am not fooled however. I have a punishment coming. A large one. Trying to escape. I frown even as the tart raisins turn to ash in my mouth.
Brides are new; I am unsure of the punishment for escape of a bride. The punishment for the escape of a rebel, who they capture as ‘servants’—if we’re not killed, however, is the removal of both large toes.
Apparently it makes it hard to run.
Surely an escapee bride will earn a worse punishment.
Too bad it isn’t death, I think, dejectedly staring at my plate.
I jump as a tail wraps around my calf, the tip stroking slowly in a comforting manner. I look up and Theo meets my eyes with a tiny smile before returning to the conversation.
Is this truly so bad? I frown harder. Three large strong males, more than capable of protecting me.
And providing. This huge house, no need to haul water or firewood.
Autumns canning grape juice together, springs boiling sap to make maple syrup, summers swimming in the lake and winters curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.
And nights spent coming my brains out.
I shake myself and it must be harder than I intended for the tail withdraws. Theo’s face is quietly sad.
Good, fuck him.
Yes, I tell myself, it would be that bad.
These stone bats are responsible for my parents’ death.
For the loss of our way of life. Though my again-traitorous brain points out that these three particular gargoyles had no personal decisions in the uprising, nor did they personally kill my Mom and Dad.
The holo on the fridge lights up, beeping happily. I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth.
Raquel must have seen my missed call the other day. Please, please, do not let her be calling back a random number. Surely she knows it was me, trying to get a hold of her? My note through Nann should have gotten to her by now.
I don’t keep a holo at home as there is no reasonable explanation for a brewer to have one; it would be suspicious as fuck. But Raquel, and other sector’s leaders have them, and we all must memorize the numbers.
Arch stands and crosses the kitchen, touching the blinking green circle, no bigger than a dessert plate.
“Earl Archibald,” emerges a masculine voice.
Oh thank fuck.
I start to zone out, from relief I assume, but I snap myself out of it, even as I take a crunchy bite of salad.
My eyes stay locked on my plate as I listen.
“There is an uprising near Greenville Base. I am worried that it will spread.”
Arch’s posture changes minutely and I can tell he’s annoyed.
“And this is my concern... why exactly?”
Yup, he’s pissed.
“The Koth chime is out of area on a vacation, making your chime the closest of any rank, aside from the original target chime.”
“I am on break myself, Commander.” Arch’s voice is tense. “I recently took a bride. I will not be responding, nor will any of my chime, to any regional emergencies until our leave for bonding is up.”
He crosses his arms and glares at the holo silently.
A small cough emerges from the screen. “Of course, of course, I understand. Just keeping you apprised of the situation.”
“Good,” Arch says, sounding pleased, “Thank you for the update.” And without waiting he touches the screen, ending the call.
I frown as I chew another bite. An uprising not far from my village? That’s... bad. My stomach turns, thinking of the families in my area with young children.
What predicated this? Is this somehow in response to my escape?
Arch sounded surprised though, not like he had asked for an attack as retribution of my behavior. I feel ill regardless.
Did I cause this?
I place my fork down and swallow hard.