Chapter 12
I throw my suitcase in the narrow gap between two cottages and race toward the square.
I forget my sorrow, my resentment, my best intentions to return to the Tzu house as I fly toward Eden’s Gate.
Only those making the ultimate sacrifice and the honor guard accompanying them have earned the right to approach the Wall.
I know the privilege is not mine to claim. Unfortunately, I’m out of my mind.
Jonas is alive!
Or, at least, he could be, if I get to him soon enough.
I’m not sure of my new plan. I don’t have one. Before I spoke to Marina, I’d intended to find my mother’s killer and make the Tzus hurt like I do. But now? Well, hope’s a dangerous thing. Is it possible Jonas is alive up there, desperate to return?
I stop short before the Wall. I’ve reached an invisible boundary, my deepest-rooted beliefs holding me back. The cobblestones before me are notably darker. Hardly anyone has dared to step this near.
For Jonas, I must.
I take a tentative step forward, heart pounding.
I never imagined I’d see Eden’s Gate up close.
It isn’t smooth or perfect beneath the vines, like I’d always imagined.
The stone is cracked and weathered, and the thick green tendrils clinging to it are barbed like wedding roses.
A glistening sap coats each thorn, bringing to mind my antimicrobial sundews in the greenhouse.
I take a moment to appreciate how the edges of green leaves give way to brilliant purple.
My whole life, I’ve never seen such a lovely shade of violet.
I tip my head back. The Wall stretches endlessly up, vanishing into the mist.
I take another few steps. I’m now close enough to see the soaring strip of silver panels that harnesses the holy Sun and lifts our Harvest basket to the sky. Both technologies are so advanced it boggles my mind, but it makes sense our Founders would invest in this, our most sacred ceremony.
A breeze flutters one of the violet-tinged vines to reveal a chunk of a panel missing.
I search for it on the ground but don’t see it.
The panels must be decaying with age, like the tablet that operates them.
But even with a piece missing, I can feel the Wall’s power, soft fingers trailing across my skin, raising the hairs along my arms.
What would happen if I touched the Wall?
Or if I climbed those vines all the way to the top?
No one’s ever tried, not that I know of. Not only is it forbidden, it’s stupid. One of the first stories Valley children are told is about a boy named Jack who tried climbing the vines and got too high. The plant pulled away from the Wall, and Jack plummeted to his death.
Only a fool would attempt it.
The breeze kicks up again, even stronger this time, rustling the vines against each other.
The shushing noise it makes sounds like a voice.
My skin lifts away from my muscles. When the breeze becomes a gust, the vines dance.
Their barbs scratch like nails against the Wall, leaving behind oily streaks and whispering what sounds like…
my name? Something primal in me goes still, listening.
Rosieeeee…
“Jonas!” I scream. There must be a crack in the Wall!
My brother somehow made it down the other side and is just across from me, calling for me from the Beyond.
I must get to him. I dive forward, legs pumping.
I’m reaching out—fingertips nearly brushing stone—when I’m thrown to the side by a great force.
I land on my back, hard, and the wind is knocked out of me.
In a single, fluid motion, Gryphon reaches down, grabs me at the waist, and hoists me over his shoulder.
Before I can react, we’re moving. I thrash against him, wild with rage as he carries me away from the Wall.
He pins my wrists at an angle. Since I can no longer strike, I lunge to bite.
He immediately clamps his other hand on my head, holding it away from him firmly and effortlessly.
I can’t hurt him, but grief has stripped me of dignity, and so I keep snapping air like a wild thing until he drops me, hard and graceless, the requisite twenty feet from the Wall.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, his voice low, eyes gliding over me. “What were you thinking, coming that close?”
“I heard Jonas!” I cry.
His eyebrows shoot up, not with anger at my idiocy or pity for my delusions, but with surprise. He runs his hand across his face to hide the expression, but it’s too late. Something explodes in my heart. “You know! You know that people can survive Beyond! How could you not tell me?”
Gryphon unsheathes the sword at his side and pretends to examine it. “It’s unlikely.”
“But possible?” I demand.
His jaw twitches. He studies me and then his blade. “I’ve heard it’s possible,” he finally says.
Marina had told the truth. I feel like I could float away. “Then I must save Jonas!”
I launch to my feet, but my legs are shaky.
Gryphon leans over. I think he’s going to offer me a hand.
Instead, he places his pointer finger where my shoulder meets my arm, catching me off balance.
He pushes me back with all the effort it would take him to flick on a light. I land back on my butt with an oof.
“You’re weak,” he says arrogantly. “You don’t have the strength to go Beyond.”
“I don’t need it!”
“No,” he says, matter-of-factly, “you need the tablet. And that’s under Council protection.”
I narrow my eyes, picturing the cabinet I saw Misia return it to.
As if he can read my thoughts, Gryphon laughs.
“Don’t even think about it. They keep a close eye on the tablet ever since what happened with the Chemists.
” The joviality falls from his eyes. “And I’d turn you in if I thought you were planning to steal it.
Rules are made to be followed, Rose. It’s my job to see that they are. ”
I’m still on the ground. I feel like he’d take me more seriously if I was standing, but I don’t want to risk him pushing me down again. So I stay put, feeling as small as a raindrop in the river.
He squints into the misty, cloud-bloated sky. “Even if the tablet fell into your lap right now, it wouldn’t have enough charge to work. It can take up to three days of direct sunlight between uses nowadays.”
It’s similar to what his mother said. I suspect it’s true. Nevertheless, my anger’s returning, building. Suddenly, I’m raring to punch Gryphon in the throat, just like I wanted to do to his mother earlier. “I can wait seventy-two hours.”
He crosses his arms. “Rose,” he says quietly, “a person would need bottomless luck and a lifetime of combat training to survive out there. Jonas might’ve had one, but he definitely didn’t have the other.
” His voice hitches in a way that makes me want to cover my ears. “I’m sorry, Rose, but he’s dead.”
His eyes are so sad, so vulnerable, that I lower my gaze. It’s been a long time since I looked at Gryphon and saw the boy who brings me daisies.
.
Gryphon returns to his patrol, certain that I’m done with foolishness for the day. His absence is a relief. It gives me time to parse out what I’ve learned.
A person would need bottomless luck and a lifetime of combat training to survive…
Marina had been tormenting me again. For the last time, I vow.
The Rose she used as her own private plaything died alongside my mother.
This Rose is angry, and she’s tired of living small.
My mother’s quiet obedience after my father’s death—always walking with her head down, never questioning the Council, never even raising her voice—didn’t protect her or my brother, did it?
I pound the ground with my fist. Jonas shouldn’t have been Harvested. Not on my wedding day. Not ever. He was young, healthy, and a good citizen up until the end.
Wasn’t he?
Entering the Record Keeper vault was a rule broken, sure, but it shouldn’t have been enough to get him Harvested. Besides, he was in the vault right before my wedding, and the Harvest basket was already lowered when we showed up. Someone had planned for a body to go in there all along.
I close my eyes. There’d been more. What were his last words?
We’re not what we seem.
What could that mean? I sigh from the bottom of my soul.
There’s only one way to find out. I will get around Marina and into her basement on my next attempt.
I have to, for Jonas, for my mom, and for all the villagers still at risk with a killer on the loose.
The thought gives me a thin sense of purpose, enough that I’m able to get to my feet.
I’m brushing myself off when footsteps approach. “I’m going,” I snap at Gryphon. “Just give me a moment.”
But when I lift my gaze, I see it isn’t him.
It’s Leonidas Khan, his normally smug face as slack as a bag. He’s twenty-five to Gryphon’s eighteen, but the two grew up training together and have always been close. It needled me with jealousy when we were younger.
“There you are,” he says in a strained voice. “You’re to come immediately. There’s been another animal attack.”