CHAPTER FIVE
The next week was agony.
I couldn’t shake the irritability that had settled in after Nya and Kieran’s departure, making every minor inconvenience feel like the most insufferable thing I had ever had to endure.
I could feel myself being short with Brielle, Zander, and even Cato.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself. I lost the sensation of hunger, and when the time of day dictated that I should eat something, I only managed a few bites here and there.
Despite what poor company I was to Brielle, she snuck me bowls of soup from Culinary Preservation’s kitchen for lunch each day, insisting that I must be coming down with something.
I forced myself to eat as much as I could to satisfy her.
Even though it was the middle of summer, and I would’ve been miserable trying to shovel down hot soup on a sweltering day even if I were well.
What I dreaded the most was going to bed at night. Or rather, attempting to go to bed at night. It was almost laughable. Did I really need more difficulty sleeping?
I struggled to shut my brain off, my skin crawling and limbs jittery. After several days of tossing and turning, my body was so desperate for rest that I finally managed to fall unconscious for a few hours here and there. But that turned out to be even worse than not sleeping.
I was plagued by two types of dreams. For once, neither of them involved reliving Irene’s death, which I suppose was a small mercy.
The first dream was of Nya and Kieran, and others whose faces I had never seen and would probably never see, getting gored by cave devils.
My brain got increasingly more creative with each nightmare, to the point where I didn’t know if I should be more horrified at the prospect of what cave devils could do, or horrified at myself for being able to concoct such deplorable scenarios all on my own.
The second dream that plagued me was somehow better and worse all at once.
I dreamt of Kieran, back in my bed, but this time without Nya present.
My brain was just as creative with the scenarios it presented for this one.
A mixture of things that I had experienced before and things that I hadn’t, but all of which felt brand new under his silver gaze.
Each time, I woke up with my heart pounding, sweat drenching my sheets.
Aching for something that wasn’t even real.
Feeling empty and alone in every possible way.
Several weeks passed. Eventually, my mood started to improve.
But there were still times throughout the day when my mind would drift as though caught in a current, floating downstream, bouncing off rocks and fallen trees that held unanswerable questions.
When Brielle or Zander directed a question to me or tried to include me in their conversations, it felt like I was looking up at them from far away. Two specks on a distant shore.
One day, after a particularly painful lunch where I couldn’t hide the fact that I had tuned out of their entire conversation, I returned to the Library to find Cato in his office. This by itself wasn’t out of the ordinary. But his demeanor was.
He seemed to be searching for something. Brows furrowed, mouth a grim line. Every drawer that was closed and stack of papers that was set down had a sharp smack to it that confirmed he was not in a good mood.
I knocked politely on the open door, poking my head in. “Is everything okay?”
“Maila, good. You’re back,” he said. “I know something’s been up with you lately, and I also know you’re not going to share with me what it is. That’s fine. But I need your help with something, and I need you to be a good sport about it.”
Clearly, we weren’t mincing words today.
“Of course.” I walked the rest of the way into his office. “What can I help you find?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “No, not this. The folder I need is around here somewhere.” He continued picking up things, examining them, and dropping them in frustration.
I wiggled my toes in my tennis shoes, unsure what I should be doing.
I was just opening my mouth to ask if I should come back later when he paused and looked up at the ceiling. He spun on his heel and dug into his leather messenger bag. A few seconds later, he let out a sigh of relief.
“It was already in my bag.” He held up a manila file folder with something I couldn’t quite make out scrawled across the tab. “Not like me to be so forgetful, huh?” he went on, voicing my exact thoughts.
“We all have those days.” I had been having those days more often than anyone lately.
“Come with me,” he ordered, slinging his bag over his shoulder and striding past me with a sense of urgency.
I had no sooner stepped across the threshold, and he was already locking the door behind me. I trailed after him for a few steps before I realized we were heading straight out of the Library.
“What about the messenger from Agricultural Preservation?”
There were a few books that the Agricultural Preservation department needed, and we had agreed to lend them out for a few days. With the grave understanding, as always, that if anything happened to those books, everything contained within them could be lost to us forever.
“I left a note for Trena. The books are behind the front desk,” Cato called over his shoulder, not slowing down.
It wasn’t my place to question him. I jogged until I fell into step behind him.
We walked out of the Library, across the main atrium of the Knowledge Center, and out the front entrance.
The courtyard was bustling with activity.
People were strolling a bit more leisurely than usual between the Knowledge Center and the living quarters, soaking up the warm afternoon sunshine.
We had endured so many midday storms lately that everyone seemed happy for a change of pace.
Breaking up the humidity was a cool, refreshing breeze.
A reminder to me, and anyone else who spent their evenings alone and reading about our climate—in other words, no one—that the ocean was nearby, just out of view.
I had read that Pre-Awakening, when Cyllene was known for being a lively seaside city, people used to visit at this time of year to see the ocean at its most beautiful shade of turquoise.
“I bet the ocean’s nice today,” Cato said conversationally, as if reading my thoughts again. Had he ever gone to the ocean? Did The Council permit Mentors to do things like that, in secret?
“I wish we got to see it more often,” I mused.
It would have defeated the purpose of having walls around the city if we left ourselves wide open on our eastern side.
Walling ourselves off from the dangers Outside meant truly walling ourselves off, including from the beach.
The most we could hope for was to stand atop a tall building on a clear day and see the hazy smudge of blue in the distance.
“It’s the price we pay for our safety,” Cato muttered a bit more darkly than the conversation warranted.
I nodded, then felt silly as I remembered he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head. “Yes, it is.”
We passed through the greenery of the courtyard, especially lush from all the rain, and entered the living quarters. I was more than a little curious now where we were headed.
Before I had time to process it, we had passed out of the other end of the living quarters and were headed down the front steps, into the city.
I felt a familiar prickle of anxiety as I took in the buildings ahead.
Much more…solid and real up close than they were when I looked down at them from my balcony.
People were walking and riding bicycles down the main drag.
A few in the distance were taking the streets on horseback.
The shouts and squeals of children echoed from the vacant lot a few blocks to the left of us.
I was never at my apartment during the day, able to sit out on my balcony when the sun was still shining.
The sounds of children playing was foreign to me.
“You probably don’t get out into the city much, do you?”
Okay. If I wasn’t already used to Cato being so perceptive, I would have been wondering at this point if he had some magical mind-reading abilities.
“No,” I said simply. “I don’t.” I hoped my tone conveyed the appropriate amount of respect and also deterred him from asking any follow-up questions.
To fill the silence that followed, I said, “I can’t remember the last time I rode a bicycle.”
Even with the limited options that we had in comparison to Pre-Awakening bike shops, the people pedaling past us rode bicycles in a variety of colors and styles.
Neon red and electric blue and chrome black and countless others zipped by.
Some had baskets that were laden with grocery bags, lunch pails, and other essentials.
“Funny you should say that,” Cato said, turning to face me. He grinned.
I blinked. And saw what was right in front of my face. “We’re riding bikes?”
“Sure are!” He circled to stand beside the white beach cruiser that was the bigger of the two bicycles. “I hope you like green, because that’s what I chose for you.”
My bike was really more of a light shade of teal, and I couldn’t help but feel touched as I stared at it. It was one of my favorite colors, one that Irene had always said went perfectly with the pale blue-green of my eyes.
As I toed the kickstand up and climbed onto the seat, I wondered if Cato’s polite concern for me lately was something more. Like actual worry from someone who genuinely wanted to see me happy.
“Where are we headed?” I asked. I was bouncing from side to side on my toes, trying unsuccessfully to steady myself.
Cato was circling nearby. He pulled up alongside me.
He hopped off his bike with practiced ease. “Get off for a second.”
My own dismount was…not graceful.
Cato kneeled down and proceeded to adjust something under the seat. Then he stepped back, motioning for me to try again.