Chapter 2
Chapter two
The Below
Even with my arm clutched tight, moving at all is pure agony, my battered ribs fighting every breath I take.
Luckily for me, all I have to do on the descent is control my speed.
That I can do one-handed. I have to leave my friction anchors behind, but given that I’m the only one crazy enough to climb the canyons that lead out of The Below, I’m not too concerned.
My pack, on the other hand, is another story. Left abandoned up on the surface, I’m not sure I’ll be able to retrieve it. But that was a worry for another day. I need this shoulder set, and there’s only one person I trust to do it without snitching.
I’ve had my fair share of accidents that required care without stepping into the clinic.
It’s a wonder that my best friend Dom ended up a gardener and not a healer when a fair amount of our childhood was spent cleaning my wounds and stitching me up.
He isn’t half bad with a needle. Most of his handy work has hardly left a scar.
I take the long way to the gardens. Sticking to the outskirts of the city proper. Given that I look like I barely escaped a cave-in, I’d rather avoid prying eyes. There are already enough whispers about me.
Daughter of the traitor.
Outcast.
Crazy.
And those were the kinder things said. I duck into the tunnel that leads to the gardens.
It’s wide and well lit, unlike the passage I had taken to TóuKita canyon.
The gardens are massive. The three main caverns are dedicated to the mushroom stacks and algae vats that make up our staple crops.
Then there are all of their adjoining smaller caves dedicated to the delicate produce that make meals in the main cavern worthwhile, and a few sub-caverns cultivating luxury goods like spices and coffee.
The route is worn smooth, well-traveled by the gardeners who have dedicated their lives to feeding Bǎodela.
I send up a silent prayer to the pantheon that I won’t run into anyone. My only saving grace is that it’s an odd hour. If it had been at shift change, the tunnels would have been packed and there's no way I would have got to the Lorategián cavern without being questioned.
Contrary to popular belief, I do have luck on occasion, and today happens to be a lucky day…well if you don’t count my run-in with the dragon. What were the odds? I’ve never seen one so close, and never have I seen one out in the storms.
Three sharp turns and then I’m edging around a corner into the small sub cavern that Dom tends to.
After a quick sweep of the space, I push out a relieved breath.
With the exception of the towering mushroom stacks that glow a soft blue, the cavern appears empty.
I know better, though. Dom never calls out sick, and he is scheduled for this shift.
Slowly, I walk through the crops. Every painful inhale smells of earth and musk, the scent of our staple crops permeating into the very stone.
I walk three rows before I find Dom, who’s lost in thought, as he looks back and forth between the notepad clutched in his hand and the mushroom stack before him.
Even crouched, Dom dwarfs the plant. He’s built like a mountain with a strong jaw, broad nose and rich chestnut skin, but his temperament is more akin to a soft summer breeze, playful and light.
I clear my throat, and he glances up from his work, a deep scowl carved into his face.
“That bad, huh?”
His eyes widen, and he blinks in surprise.
“What?” Dom says.
“I can’t possibly deserve that scowl.” I wince, taking a step closer, trying to catch a glimpse of his notepad.
He snaps it shut and shakes the scowl from his face as he looks me over. His expression turns to one of worry, thick lips turning down. “What happened?”
I avoid making eye contact. “You know, the usual.”
He narrows his dark eyes at me, thick brows drawing together.
I wave him off with my good hand. “Just a run-in with a dragon.”
His eyes go wide as he appraises my injuries with fresh eyes. He steps close, grabs my upper arm gingerly, and guides me back to his workstation.
“What the hell, Ollie! A dragon?” he hisses close to my ear as we step into the shed carved into the back wall.
“I mean, I didn’t plan it.” I shoot him a crooked grin, but all I get in return is another scowl. He’s doing that a lot today. “Listen, I don’t need a lecture, but I do need you to set this shoulder for me.”
Dom sighs. “It’s going to hurt.” His voice is resigned.
“I know, I know. Can we just get it over with?”
Dom nods, his tight dark curls bouncing with the motion. “Fine.” He moves to position the arm, then glares at me. “Ollie?”
“What?”
“Lift your arm for me.”
“Is this a cruel joke?”
“Just humor me.”
Slowly, I lift my arm, shaking and painful but functional.
“That’s what I thought. You managed to keep it in its socket this time.”
“Prime.” I grin up at him. “Do I still get a honey stick for being a good patient?”
Dom shakes his head, but smiles. “You’re still a child.”
“Guano,” I spit back at him with a smile.
“You’re just proving my point.”
I chuckle, then cringe. “Don’t make me laugh.” I give him a half-hearted smile as I rub at my bruised ribs.
The smile falls from Dom’s face, replaced with a glare. “It’s not just the shoulder, is it?”
I shrug and force another laugh, instantly regretting it.
Dom moves to a shelf carved into the wall, pausing a moment to place his fingertips on the Kuàngnirea shrine sculpted into the rock face to mumble a prayer, probably asking Guārgia to watch over me as he so often did.
Or perhaps he asked Metalajīnshǔ for strength, another common prayer as my best friend.
He then retrieves a woven basket full of medical supplies.
“Let me at least wrap your ribs.” He steps closer and grabs the hem of my top.
I knock his hand away. “I can do it myself.” I stick out my hand for the bandage. Dom rolls his eyes, but relents, slapping it into my palm.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“I can manage just fine on my own, thank you.” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, the bandage slips from my fingers and unravels toward the ground. Dom catches it and rewinds the bandage with deft hands.
“Clearly.” He flashes a knowing grin. “Just let me wrap them.” He tugs the corner of my top up, and I once again knock his hand away, grabbing for the bandage.
He slaps my hand in response, and we descend into a pathetic tussle as Dom holds the bandage above my head and swats my hand away with the other.
A throat clearing freezes my movements mid-hop with Dom’s palm against my forehead as he holds the bandage high in the other hand.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” A deep baritone I would know anywhere comes from the doorway.
I turn slowly to find Caius Amarala, captain of the guard, perpetual thorn in my side, standing in the doorway.
My stomach turns just at the sight of him.
He’s tall and broad, with chiseled features even the gods are jealous of.
Plenty of women in the caverns think that made him handsome, even if his soul is darker than the collapsed caverns below.
I elbow Dom, who finally drops his arm, clutching the wrap behind his back. I glare at him.
“Real smooth,” I whisper.
“What was that?” Caius steps into the shed and makes a show of looking over the supplies lining the shelves.
“How can we help you, Fox?” Satisfaction swells in my chest as I watch Caius’ ears turn pink at the tips. He may be a man now, but I still know how to prod at the insecure little boy inside.
When he turns to meet my gaze, his expression is indifferent. “It’s Captain Amarala.”
“Of course, Captain.” Dom steps between us before I can goad the good captain further. “I don’t often see you in the gardens. What can we do for you?”
Caius gives a self-satisfied nod. “True, I don’t often have business in the gardens, but I need Oliviana, and given that you two are nearly inseparable, I figured I would start here.”
“We aren’t inseparable,” I mutter, but Dom gives me a look, imploring me to pick my battles, and so I suppress the urge to stick my tongue out at my best friend. Instead, I turn back to Caius, square my shoulders and plaster a saccharine sweet smile on my face.
“And why were you looking for me, Captain?” I pull out the title just enough to irk him.
Caius narrows his prasiolite-green eyes ever so slightly at the taunt, and I’m glad I already had a fake smile on my face to hide the real one that now tugs at the corners of my lips.
“We are in need of a tinkerer.” Caius turns to the side, extending an arm to guide me out of the shed.
I cross my arms and plant my feet, working to hide the grimace at the movement. “And what need does the guard have of a tinkerer?” I ask.
Caius forces a breath through his nostrils, the only sign that I have gotten under his skin. “I have been sent by The Council to retrieve you. Now, if you will.” Once again, he gestures for us to leave.
I shoot a look at Dom, who gives a slight nod. I sigh, then let my arms fall to my side as I brush past Caius.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” I grin at my best friend one last time on my way out.
He gives me a worried look that says to behave myself in front of the council.
After all these years, I’m not sure why Dom bothers.
I never did have much sense when it came to self-preservation.
The council meeting will go the way it will go.
The silence is deafening on our return to the main cavern. I can feel Caius studying me, but it isn’t until we’ve nearly reached the main street that slopes down into the city center that he finally speaks.
“You look like you were caught in a rockslide.” Caius furrows his brow in disgust.
“Wow, thanks, Fox. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” I smile sweetly up at him through my lashes.
“Captain Amarala,” he corrects, “and I only mentioned it because you have an audience with the whole council.”
Heat creeps up my neck and pinpricks across my skin under his gaze. I roll my eyes and look ahead. “What, are they not going to give me the job because I don’t look respectable enough?”
It’s quiet for a beat before Caius finally answers. “I guess not. I was going to ask if you wanted a chance to change first, but if it doesn’t matter….” He shrugs.
I ball my hands into fists. “Exactly, it doesn’t matter.” I quicken my pace to stomp ahead.
Bǎodela proper bustles with activity. Vendors line the main street, carved stone pillars jutting up from the ground with hemp banners strung over each, stitched with symbols indicating the merchant’s specialty. Stone benches nestle beneath the miasma of designs, packed with a kaleidoscope of wares.
The entire scene is overwhelming, and unlike Caius, who stands a head taller than most and is built like the statues of the gods that surround us, I don’t have the stature to hold my space in the crowd.
It takes him all of two seconds to match my new pace with his long legs.
I clench my jaw tight, swallowing down my annoyance at this cryptic summons, at how easily he moves through our world, at his very existence beside me.
The world was built for men like him, and nothing I do can change that.