34. TALIESIN
The air in Clay and Imran’s cell smells of blood, old sweat, and the cloying sweetness of death.
But Imran is shivering so hard his bones are rattling against the cot frame, huddled under a thin rag of a blanket Dot must have swiped from the Guild laundry.
He’s been out of it for hours, but now the haze in his eyes has cleared. He’s lucid, and that scares the hell out of me. I’ve seen this before.
The final rally.
“I dreamed of the sea.” Imran’s voice is a ghost of a sound, a dry rasp that barely carries over the hum of the block. “The water was blue, the sky was blue. You couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.”
“That sounds beautiful, Immy,” Rory soothes. She’s using a damp corner of her sleeve to dab the sweat from his forehead. I know she’s exhausted. It’s been two days of this, none of us have had more than an hour or two of sleep. I’d finally sent Sky off to rest, the kid was making herself ill.
I reach over and give Imran’s arm a soft squeeze. “Keep thinking about that blue. It’s the best color. It’s the color of everything wonderful.”
The sea, the sky, Aurora’s eyes.
Dot hovers in the doorway. Clay and Layla are already at work, because fuck, the show must go on. “Uh, I’ve gotta go, but, like…fuck.” She curses then takes something out of her pocket. Striding over, she holds something in her hand, obviously deliberating whether to set it down or not.
“Is that… a stuffie?” I ask, staring at the matted gray felt.
She stares me down, her jaw working and looking ready to swing at me, but then she sighs, a deflating sound that makes her shoulders slump, she places the lint bundle on the bed.
It’s a tiny, felted mouse, whiskers made of stray blue thread from a Guild jumpsuit. It’s delicate. It’s beautiful.
“It’s stupid,” Dot grunts. “Whatever. Repetitive motion keeps the head quiet, alright? But you tell anyone the Digger laundry-boss plays with dolls, and I’ll put you in a dryer on high heat.”
I nod, keeping a straight face, then she stomps out.
“Needle felting?” Rory whispers. “That’s the big secret?”
We share a smirk. It brings so much-needed lightness to the room.
Imran smiles too. It’s a tiny, fleeting thing. Rory places the toy into his clawed hand. “We’re a funny family, aren’t we?” he mumbles.
“All the best families are weird,” I tell him. “Normal is overrated.”
“You want to try some more soup?” Rory has a spoon poised.
After a moment he nods. “Please, I’m hungry now.”
Yeah, it’s got to be the fucking rally.
The afternoon goes on and his energy wanes again. I’m getting up to stretch when Francois suddenly appears. He doesn’t say anything, and he’s holding a bundle of dark, heavy fabric under one arm.
“Yeah? What?” I bark in his direction.
His eyes are fixed on Rory, looking at the shadows under her eyes, for the toll the last forty-eight hours have taken. Then he shakes out the bundle.
It’s a heavy, navy-blue wool peacoat—the kind issued only to Guild members for the winter months. It’s worn and shabby but warmer than anything else in this block. “I believe a fever brings chills,” he says.
And that’s not all he delivers. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out a handful of sugar packets. “So the boy can taste something other than…” he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
Blood pools at the corner of Imran’s mouth, and dribbles down his pale skin.
I stare at the coat, the sugar. Those things would have come at a cost.
“Why?” I ask.
Francois finally looks at me, his eyes flat and unreadable.
“Because…” His gaze flicks back to Aurora, lingering on the way she takes the coat and lays it over the shivering boy.
“…because the sound of chattering teeth disturbs my peace.” He starts to turn away, but stops again, like he wants to say something else.
Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it. And I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tearing open a paper packet, I lick my finger and stick it in the sugar, then transfer it to Imran. “Try this, kid.”
His eyes close and a look of bliss crosses his features. “Mama,” he whispers.
I catch Rory’s eye over the boy’s head. Our eyes lock in a raw, aching grief.
Then everything changes.
Pounding footsteps thunder in the corridor—too fast, and Layla shoves her way past Francois, eyes wide with a terror that turns my blood to ice.
“What?” I move toward her, so does de Vaux.
“Sky,” Layla chokes out. “The fucking COs took her. One of my guys just saw her being hauled toward the administrative wing. Toward Voss.”
Fuck.
Rory lunges to her feet as I glance back at Imran, the boy and Sky are good friends now, this is the last thing he needs. But it’s OK, he’s drifted again, mercifully oblivious to the latest crisis.
“She will not be one of his fucking canaries,” Rory growls, her eyes sparking that electric blue. “Over my dead body.”
No, Princess. Over my dead body.
I’m already moving toward the door, my blood boiling with a need that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the pack. “I’ll find a way.”
Francois’s arm snaps out, barring my path. “You? And just how do you plan to achieve that, Mutt? By barking at the Warden’s heels?”
I have no answer for him, only the shiv in my hand and the fire in my gut.
Rory pokes a finger hard into the center of Francois’s chest, right over his cold heart. “We all know you’ve got more sway with the monsters upstairs than anyone else. Go. Get. Sky. Back.”
Francois raises an eyebrow, then hooks his fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. I hate to see him touching her. “It’s that important to you?”
Rory doesn’t flinch. “Yes. Please, Francois.” Her eyes are begging along with her words. “Whatever you want, just save her.”
He’d better not think he can demand a repayment from her, her body. That is not happening.
Francois’s gaze flickers to me, then back to the agony on Rory’s face. Something in his expression shifts. The predatory smirk falters, and a look I’ve never seen on the bastard appears.
Almost like a lightbulb goes off.
He looks almost human.
He lets out a long, slow breath and releases Rory’s chin, his hand dropping to his side. “Fine. I shall rescue your sparrow,” he murmurs, his voice almost subdued. “There will be no price for you to pay.”
After a second, the arrogant mask of the Elite slides back onto his face.
“Not because I care for her wellbeing.” He leans in, but I can still hear him.
“But because I want to be the one who makes that look of despair vanish. I want you to remember, when you look at me, that I’m more than a monster, I’m someone who saved your family. ”
He doesn’t wait for a thank you or any response, simply turns and glides out of the cell.
“Follow him,” I rasp to Layla. “Make sure he actually heads to admin.”
“Understood, boss,” she nods, casting one last baffled look at me before vanishing. As soon as she’s gone, Rory collapses into my arms, her body vibrating with tension.
“It’s OK,” I mutter, burying my face in her short blonde hair. “He’s going to get her. It’ll be a matter of ego now.”
Her hands curl around my neck, her grip desperate. “I don’t understand him, Tally. He could have asked me for anything and he didn’t. That’s not how Elites work.”
“He’s still got an agenda, babe. You realize he didn’t come to Quo to protect his father’s property, right?”
“Then what? What?”
“You, Rory. I think he wants you to…love him.”
She lets out a snort. “That’s fucking crazy.”
“Is it? Think about it. He’s obsessed with you. Everything he’s done here has to keep you safe and improve your wellbeing, and I guess…” I can’t believe I’m saying this, “…I guess I can’t fault him for that.”
Imran lets out a small, thready moan behind us.
We pull apart instantly, our focus snapping back to the cot. Imran is fading fast, his skin shifting from a feverish flush to a translucent, waxy gray. The brief rally is over, and the dark reality is crashing back down.
This place breaks so many things. Especially hope and trust.
Immy is already shattered beyond repair.
But as I look at Rory, the fire in her eyes, I know one thing for certain.
I won’t let it break her.
Never.