Chapter 24
Baby Lottery
“Wake up,” Sarina shoved at my shoulders. “You're going to miss the Baby Lottery!”
I moaned, still half asleep as I sat up.
The Reproductive Allocation Raffle, or Baby Lottery as it was colloquially called, was another way the Ascendancy maintained strict population counts year over year.
Because inevitably, some children were lost to accidents, disease, and other tragedies each year.
It wasn't always possible for the children's parents to have more children.
Sometimes, married couples were unable or, more rarely, unwilling, to have children at all.
Not every married couple was heterosexual, either.
To keep the total population constant, the Ascendancy held the Baby Lottery, where tickets were drawn which could be used to legally justify the birth of additional children beyond the mandated two per household.
Anyone of adult age could enter, and the winning tickets could be sold or bartered as well.
Tickets did expire after a year, though.
However, I'd never heard of a ticket going unredeemed.
The winning tickets were worth more than any other commodity on the island. Even more than Starshells.
Nausea swelled as I thought about Alaric, and how different things might have been if our family had obtained a winning ticket. My gaze fell on the metal yo-yo on my nightstand.
“Hurry up! You'll miss the Priest!” she called, already fully dressed and tying up her frizzy curls.
Priests were dispatched from the center of Mesmoria, to each end of the island. Once there, they collected all of the names of citizens wishing to participate in the Baby Lottery. Would Instructor Weavir be collecting the entrants this year from the trainees, or would it be a different Priest?
I rolled out of bed, trying not to think about the guilt that roiled through me.
At least the supplementary training was effective, I was tired and sore, but not exhausted like I had been before the midterm. Or was I just feeling the perks of sharing a linking glyph with Zevrial? Either way, I was grateful.
Sarina practically dragged me out of the room, hurrying us toward the gate. It was so early even the crickets weren’t chirping. A line of other trainees had already formed, wrapping around the courtyard. Sarina and I joined them as the line meandered forward.
Pasha was in front of us in line. “Good morning!” She smiled far too brightly for how early it was.
I rubbed sleep out of my eyes, whining, “There is nothing good about mornings.”
“Normally, I'd agree with you.” Sarina bounced from one foot to another. “But not today! Today I’m getting a winning ticket.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What would you even do with it?”
“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe trade it for rare books.”
I laughed. “You'd trade a lottery ticket for books?”
“Rare books,” she corrected. “And lots of them.”
“I'd give it to my aunt,” Pasha chimed in. “She's always wanted a baby girl, and she's got two sons already.”
“I don't know what I'd do with a ticket,” I mumbled, my thoughts wandering again to Alaric. “Maybe if it had been two years ago...”
“Oh-ho-ho, spill. Did you have a secret lover then? How come I didn't know?” Sarina asked.
“No, I just...” Nothing left my lips. I missed him so much it physically hurt.
I cleared my throat, clogged with shame. The words were thick and sticky, mired like congealed honey on my tongue. “I just wish I'd had one back then.”
“So mysterious,” Pasha teased. “My aunt told me if I got her a ticket, she'd take care of my kids whenever I want.” Immediately gratitude washed over me for the change in topic.
“Free baby sitting? Not a bad deal,” Sarina said.
“Yeah, and I already have a betrothed too!” Pasha let out a wistful noise, her countenance softening. “Soon as I graduate, we're getting married.” She caught herself before getting too swept up in her daydream. “What about you, Sarina? I've seen you watching Benji.”
“Smash, next question,” she said. I laughed.
“You wouldn't marry him?” Pasha prodded.
“He is hot,” Sarina mused. “But he's also distressingly predictable. I don't want that kinda energy in my life.”
“Who hurt you?” I asked with mock sympathy. Sarina gave me a sly side-eye.
“Tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine,” she said.
“I guess if you put it that way...” I drew out a long dramatic breath. “I'm also betrothed.”
“No way,” Pasha said, genuine surprise lifting her brows. “I thought you and Instructor Tyrell were...”
I let my facial features flatten. “We were what?”
“Nothing.” She held her hands up as if to defend herself.
“Everyone thinks you have an Instructor with benefits thing going on,” Sarina explained, analyzing my reaction. “Except me of course, since I know you always sleep alone.”
“Hey!” I protested, “That's...depressing. And true,” I admitted. “There's nothing going on between him and I.”
“Uh-huh,” Sarina drew the word out, insinuating.
“Honestly, nothing has happened between us,” I said. Part of me wilted at the truth in those words.
Oh no, that’s not good.
Did I want there to be something between us? That was a troubling thought. Caring about him was one thing, but wishing for more was another thing entirely.
Yeshar moved up into line behind us. My spine stiffened.
“Whatever, I want to hear more about this betrothed of yours.” Pasha said, changing the subject again.
“He's a real winner,” I muttered, wondering how much longer we would be stuck waiting in line. “His name is Jessarian. I'm breaking off our engagement before graduation.” Yeshar’s eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly as he eavesdropped.
“What?! Why? Not because of Instru—” Pasha asked.
“Not because of him!” I grumbled. “I planned to break the engagement even before I met him. Jessarian just...he isn't my type.” I was proud of myself for the diplomatic neutrality of that statement.
“A likely story,” Sarina said.
“It's the truth,” I said. “I even told my family about it before entering the Mistrun.”
“Actually, speaking of family, I need to borrow you after we finish here.” Sarina said, looking at me.
“Sure.” More trainees moved up to drop off their names with the Priest. The Priest collecting the names wasn't Instructor Weavir after all.
“I wish they’d let us out of the outpost for family reunions at least,” Pasha said. “My brother is turning ten next week.”
“Lisia has a reunion coming soon,” Yeshar said from behind us. “With a former acquaintance of ours.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Nikolach.” Ice slid down the back of my neck at the name. “Out, as of tomorrow.”
Pasha wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Nikolach? Don’t tell me you’ve got another guy after you, too.”
“Leave some for the rest of us,” Sarina added.
I waved away their commentary, trying to look unaffected in front of Yeshar, simultaneously without revealing that I’d been in the Reformatory to either Pasha or Sarina. “He’s someone I wish I didn’t know.”
Yeshar shrugged. “He’s inefficient, but he is useful, in his own predictably rough ways. And you have a way of attracting attention.”
Small bumps budded down my forearms, and rubbing them didn’t ward them off. The ease of the laugh I managed was crippled by the force required to produce it. Yeshar was choosing his words carefully, to prevent Pasha and Sarina from overhearing and understanding his true meaning.
“Lately, he’s been more of a headache than helpful, considering the recent state of my affairs,” Yeshar continued. “I hope any reunion between you two is also the last.”
I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to stay away from Nikolach, or for Nikolach and I to kill each other. Either way, I wasn’t about to take advice from Yeshar.
“You should really talk things out with him directly,” I said. “Work through your differences.” Yeshar’s face remained as impassive as stone. Thankfully, Sarina and Pasha had begun a separate debate about which weapon they’d choose for specialization.
Pasha stepped up to submit her name and gold coin as an entrant, Sarina following behind her. I mirrored her example, spelling out my name for the Priest, handing him my fee as an entrant, and trailing behind Sarina as she moved to a deserted end of the courtyard.
“So,” she said as soon as I reached her, wringing her hands and fidgeting. “I need a small favor.”
“Sure, what's going on?”
“It's my family. I know I don't talk about them much but,” she let out a heavy sigh. “That's because they're a lot. Lemme back up.” She took a steadying breath. “My family doesn't know I'm training to become a Voyager.”
“What?” My brain couldn’t comprehend her meaning.
“I left the day of the Mistrun without telling them where I was going before getting my assigned service. My birthday wasn't until after the Mistrun, but I lied and participated anyway because I needed to get away,” she said.
It took me three slow seconds to realize the echo of everything she'd just told me to my own arrival here. “So they don't know you're here,” I repeated.
“Yeah, and I'm not about to tell them,” she said. “But that's where the favor comes in. See, my Mom,” she continued wringing her hands. “I don't wanna tell her where I am, but I know she's probably worried about me. And I don't want her to worry.”
“You've been here for months,” I said. “Don't you think she's already worried?”
“No,” Sarina shook her head. “This... isn't the first time I've gone somewhere without telling her first. Or the first time I've been gone for a while.
But Mom doesn't do well on Baby Lottery Day,” she confessed.
“It’s personal. I need you to get a message to her for me.
To let her know I'm okay. Through the Priest.”
“Through the Priest.” Confusion reared up again.
“Yeah, that Priest will be able to get a message to her.
He doesn't recognize me, or you. He won’t know our names.
And so if you give him the message, even if Mom grills him for info, the description of the person who gave him the message will be your description, not mine.
And hopefully, she'll leave it at that.”