Chapter 12
TWELVE
margaret
The next few days passed with no incidents, but I most certainly didn’t get any closer to making friends.
The others seemed less than eager to get to know us. I hated referring to them like that, but as time went on, it was clear that they considered us different. For whatever reason, these people weren’t going to let us into their inner circle anytime soon.
They’d talked to Benedict briefly, apparently gathering all the information they could about Athena. They’d shut the rest of us out like we were nothing. Like we knew nothing.
Even when I tried to speak up—even when I tried to help, I was brushed off. Dismissed.
Katherine and I were thrown into any physical work they could come up with, probably to avoid including us in the inner workings of the place.
They thought we were too stupid to notice, of course.
Their behavior surprised me at first. These were women. In my experience, women were more open to listening to the opinions of others. To including others. To being—well, not jerks.
But these women were nothing like the ones I’d known.
They were nothing like Athena.
They were nothing like my mother.
Once I realized they weren’t interested in sitting around a campfire and making friendship bracelets with us—hypothetically, of course, because nobody seemed to think friendship bracelets were cool anymore—the sting of rejection faded. Katherine and I did our work and kept to ourselves.
It gave me ample time to learn more about Katherine. She was cunning, and not just in the obvious way. She was a survivor. So was I. So was Athena.
But Katherine was more shrewd. More distrustful.
Every morning, for example, she woke up before the rest of us and snuck off to get breakfast alone.
I pretended not to notice at first, but before long, she’d return with fruit and bread for me, too, and we’d huddle in our little corner of the beautiful stone building and eat in silence while the others slept.
We ate, yes, but Katherine spent that time plotting as well. Scheming. Her brain worked constantly, like she was silently giving herself pep talks to survive the day.
She had an alertness about her that sometimes made me sad. Like she was afraid to relax—even for a second. Even to sleep at night.
And she always left her boots untied and set up beside her bed, ready to be quickly slipped on. She was always ready for an escape.
As the days passed, I found myself wanting to talk to her about her life. Wanting to know what had made her like this.
Athena had told me a bit about her own life. A sad life, where she’d endured the death of her parents and siblings.
Katherine thought it was Athena’s fault. We all knew it wasn’t.
But Katherine had clearly been through some stuff, too. Stuff that made her flinch at the sound of a fork dropping on the other side of the cafeteria. Stuff that made her pretend to drink wine while everyone around us imbibed for real.
Even now—as we wheeled wagons full of chopped firewood from the surrounding trees of the valley—her eyes darted over the horizon, looking for any possible threat.
I kept my mouth shut as we finished our journey to the main courtyard. As we approached, we discovered that most of the women were here, gathered together.
“What’s this?” I whispered to one of the girls in the back of the group.
“Valley meeting. You’re late.”
The men—who made up less than a quarter of the numbers here—clustered on the right side of the space, while the women filled the rest. Valerea stood onstage again, speaking to the crowd.
Katherine cursed under her breath and dropped the handle of her wagon, making it clatter against the stone ground.
Valerea stopped, and every person gathered turned around.
I wouldn’t consider myself shy, but after being very clearly told where we stood around here, I couldn’t help but flush at all the attention.
Across the space, Benedict smiled, the expression full of pity.
“As I was saying,” Valerea continued, “there will be a small gathering here to celebrate the anniversary of the valley’s establishment. You’ll all be expected to attend, of course. Enjoy the festivities, because this will be the last bit of downtime we have before our next mission.”
I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised by that last part.
While these mystics hadn’t seemed to have done much to actively defy the Ministry since we’d arrived, I’d heard the whispers.
I’d noticed the way women closed their mouths when we walked in.
The way many filtered their words when we were around.
Something was going on. We just hadn’t been made part of it.
But I wasn’t a fan of mean girls.
I made a mental note to catch up with Benedict. Surely, he knew something. Maybe they had confided in him.
Surely, at least he was respected enough to be involved in discussions relating to the information we’d brought with us.
Later that night—after Katherine had slipped away to shower and get her few hours of sleep before dawn—I went for a walk.
I’d always loved night walks. It was special, this time when the moon shone. When the night insects sang, just waking from the hot, loud day.
The night was quiet. Cozy. Peaceful.
It spoke to me.
Sure, I wasn’t exactly the quiet type. But I did long for something that only the night could give me.
I longed for something…something mine.
And this time allowed me to explore the valley without any prying eyes.
Valley. That’s what I’d started calling it, anyway. Using the term rebel defiance headquarters for this place didn’t quite seem right to me.
There wasn’t much here. The buildings hadn’t been here more than a handful of years, and there hadn’t been much thought put into the aesthetics.
But that didn’t matter in a place like this.
Natural beauty was the main attraction. As I walked across the pebble path that led down the main street, the river bustled just out of sight, the trees bristling in the breeze and the owls hooting.
I passed the small wooden building that housed the cafe. I tried the coffee once, but I sure as hell—sorry, Elijah—wasn’t doing that again. My whole body had nearly exploded. The blacksmith shop was next to it. I was careful not to get too close. Tilly, the blacksmith, scared me a little.
Then there was the main kitchen—which Katherine and I had worked in a handful of times—and next to it was the mysterious building that I hadn’t been allowed into.
The strategy building. The building where real work happened.
While I wasn’t a strategist and had no experience with battles, my brother and Athena were out there, fighting their way to get back to me.
And I was sitting back while much less informed people did all the work.
A groan in the silence sent my senses aflame. I wasn’t alone. I froze, my lungs seizing up.
Another groan, followed by a feathery sigh.
Two people were hidden in the shadows out here.
The sound had come from an alleyway to my right.
Ducking, I tiptoed to the corner and peered into the dark space.
“Please, Kat,” a man whispered. Benedict.
I couldn’t see him. He was hidden in the shadows. What were they doing out here? What was Katherine—
Oh. Nope. NOPE.
Clouds drifted, allowing the moon’s full light to shine down.
And I instantly wished I could unsee the sight in front of me. Katherine was on her knees before Benedict, her head bobbing. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair and tilted his head back, moaning as he thrust into her mouth.
She clutched his thighs like she was urging him deeper.
Okay—I wasn’t trying to look, really—but my attention trailed down Benedict's open tunic to where…to where…
My stomach quivered. God, Margaret. Get it together, woman! These are two adults partaking in a completely normal adult activity!
Katherine’s moans were full of just as much pleasure.
I couldn’t look away. They weren’t doing anything wrong. But this was…unexpected. I hadn’t thought of Benedict as an erotic person. And Katherine? I never would have guessed she could loosen up enough to do that.
But their bodies fit together perfectly this way. It looked good. For a single, inviting moment, I pictured what it would be like if I were there with them, too.
Would I be on my knees beside Katherine? Would our tongues dance together across Benedict’s hardness? Would we take turns sucking all of him into our mouths?
Would she have a hand between my thighs, too? Pleasuring me while we pleasured him?
Or would he want me all to himself? Maybe he’d want me spread out for him, maybe he’d even want her to watch—
I squeezed my eyes shut.
MARGARET. DEAR GOD. THESE ARE YOUR FRIENDS, NOT YOUR SEXCAPADE PARTNERS.
I finally tore my attention away and shook my head. Hard. With any luck, I’d dislodge those filthy thoughts and shake them free from my twisted, twisted mind.
“Like watching, little snake?”
My heart leapt into my throat, stifling the squeal that escaped me as I whipped around.
The man standing before me was more than just handsome. He was ethereal, with sharp, godly features. Like his face had been molded distinctly from perfection. His dark, curly hair peeked out from the hood of his jacket, his eyes so clear I could see my reflection in them.
“What?” I whispered, stepping away from the alley to put more space between myself and the couple still going at it. “No, no, I—”
“You what?” The man followed me with slow steps. Not in a creepy way, my instincts told me, and they were always very accurate.
No, there was nothing but curiosity there. And maybe a little humor.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, my pulse still thrumming.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Long enough to be amused.”
“Well, the show’s over.” I sidestepped him and headed back down the path.
“It doesn’t have to be over,” he said, his feet thumping lightly on the ground behind me. “Why don’t I ask them if you can join them? Could be fun.”
Before he could even think about following through with those words, I spun around, closed the distance between us, and slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
He smiled beneath my palm.
Holy hell. I had to grip his shoulder with my free hand and stand on my toes to reach his mouth because he was so darn tall.
Who was this guy? I would have remembered him if I’d seen him before now.
His eyes danced in the moonlight as he took in my features—and now that I stood practically flush against him with my hand against his lips, he probably saw all of me clearly.
Rather than pull away, he grasped my wrist and dragged my hand an inch from his mouth, giving himself just enough space to reply. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “I’m not embarrassed. I don’t care about that at all, actually, or whatever was happening there. But they’re my friends. They deserve their privacy.” I pulled away from him and backed up a step, ignoring the fire where his touch had just been.
His smirk deepened. “And you? What do you deserve?”
I huffed. “Is this something you do often? Stalk women in the dark and ask them bizarre questions?”
His focus flickered down to my lips and lingered there.
And stayed. So long that he surely knew I’d noticed.
Long enough to prove he didn’t care what I thought.
“Only women like you, little snake.”
He stepped forward, ducking, eyeing me much like a predator sizing up his prey.
But I wasn’t frightened. I had been in the presence of terrifying men many, many times.
Men who wanted to hurt me. Men who had hurt me.
And this was different. The heat in his eye was not one of fury. Not one of blind, violent lust.
If I wasn’t mistaken, it was one of adoration.
And that realization made my legs quiver.
“I should go,” I said, breathless. “It’s late.”
He held his smile and nodded. “It is. Sleep well, little snake.” The breeze picked up, blowing a long, wild wisp of my dark hair across my eyes.
When I pulled the piece away, the stranger was gone.
I was alone again, with nothing but distant moans and the sound of my desperate, hammering heart for company.