19. Luna #2
Sawyer takes a second before shaking his head. He picks up his fork and knife while Liberty eyes him carefully. If he’s merciful, he’ll never tell her the truth.
Cannibalism is a silly taboo, but one I’ve learned the outside world takes seriously. It’s telling that our Dregs often choose to starve.
Sawyer cuts into the meat and brings it to his mouth with a trembling hand. His eyes closed, he pushes it inside and swallows the bite whole, his fist covering his mouth like he might throw up.
Very dramatic.
Liberty notices.
“What is this exactly?” she asks.
“Karu,” Thorne echoes Father. I look over to see half his plate gone.
“What animal is Karu?”
“A species of sapiens common to this region, but not often consumed,” I hurry before anyone can say it. “Please ignore Mr. Hansley’s weak stomach. He’s had a hard time getting used to our food. Apparently, organic does not have much appeal to him.”
“That’s true.” Aubry chuckles around a mouthful, twirling a fork-speared chunk of dripping meat. “We used to make fun of him for stocking the manor with chicken nuggets.”
Sawyer’s body convulses with a gag. His face turns green while his fist grinds against his lips.
“A species of sapiens?” Liberty slides her plate away. Truthfully, I didn’t think she’d catch that.
Father’s lips spread ear to ear. My hair slips down my back as his hand finds the curve between my neck and shoulder, thumb pressing in, slow and rhythmic. His eyes never leave Liberty.
Sawyer’s fist lowers as he stares at me in a way I don’t understand. His eyes go to Father, then back to me, then to Father’s hand.
Something comes over me. A feeling familiar yet nameless, the same from last night.
A small, involuntary jerk hikes my shoulder. My neck stiffens.
“My sweet Luna has always been a bit clinical. Always too smart for us.” Father’s doting smile finds me as his thumb skates across my collar bone. Sawyer’s gaze pins me so hard, my face flushes.
I look at my plate.
“Karu is the offering of our deceased. If a body is not diseased when it passes into the afterlife, we accept its nourishment so we may always carry its strength. Here in the Shadow Sanctum, we are one. Every generation. Forever.”
Liberty’s head droops, her hand meeting her halfway. She covers her mouth as she turns, and for a moment, I think she might keep it together.
Then the hurling starts.
“What?” Aubry whispers, mouth full. Her fork clanks against her plate.
Sawyer takes her cheek and plucks the piece of meat from her mouth. He tosses it on the plate, shoves it away and presses his lips to her ear. Liberty empties her stomach on the floor until she’s dry heaving.
Chaos. In ten seconds flat.
Thorne gets up to go to Liberty’s side while Raven throws her napkin on her plate and shoves out her chair. Solidarity toward me, I think. Father doesn’t stop her when she leaves.
The rest of my sisters bite their lips and exchange humorous looks.
Father speaks low in my ear. “Do you still believe your pets are going to accept our ways? Or can we stop wasting our time?”
I stare down at the table, nails scraping my thighs.
It’s just a lesson.
Do not react.
But I can sense Sawyer’s eyes every time they hit me, my back weighted by Father’s arm. Never have I wanted so badly to rip away.
Father scoots closer and forces my chin up, fingers digging craters into my cheek. His beard tickles the hinge of my jaw as hot breath blasts my ear. “Do you see now why we don’t initiate women? This is what the outside world produces. This is what we’ll become if you get your way.”
Weak.
That’s the word he means, but the word that tries to cement into my brain is cruel.
I close my eyes, but the images that surface are worse than those of the room. Liberty’s gagging makes my stomach clench. Aubry’s crying shallows my breath.
A thought so harsh my shoulders rise to my ears: it will only get worse.
Something in me cracks.
“You’re right, Father.” My voice wavers and cheeks contract beneath his hand as I work my jaw.
I chuck my napkin on my plate before shoving from the table, silverware rattling as my palms slap wood. If I were smart, I’d keep my voice low, my face neutral. Fractures in leadership can quickly widen under pressure—and my enemy knows how to press.
Sawyer's eyes warm the side of my face as I glare down at Father. It’d be easy to say I lose control.
But I’ve never lost control in my life.
“This is our present under my influence.” I flick my wrist at the chaos. “Imagine the future under yours.”
Father’s eyes widen as his upper lip twitches. No more doting. No more lies.
I storm from the room. Aiden watches as I pass—smart enough not to follow.
Once I’m outside, I brace myself against the concrete railing and draw cold air through my lungs. I face the ground as if sick. Wrap one arm around my stomach. Fresh air makes it no easier to breathe.
When the door opens, I expect Father. Possibly Thorne.
I’m wrong.
Sawyer’s presence thaws the ice in my cheeks. My teeth unclench while I stare at a patch of stubborn snow.
I don’t know if it’s his scent, his movement, or the gentle shut of the door.
But I know it’s him before I turn around.