10
After we leave the general behind, Rook turns to me and says, “I think it’s time we talked.”
I fold my arms and rub my elbows. By my estimation, it’s been almost a week since we left New Manhattan, and all I’ve wanted are answers. Now that it’s time, I’m not sure I’m ready.
“Then let’s talk,” I say, because there’s also no choice.
“This way.” He leads me into another wing and opens a door, revealing a room larger than mine, decorated in gray and blue, including a big bed covered in soft sheets, a thick fur rug, a desk and chair sitting under a small window, a few sofas, and an entire wall of bookshelves stuffed full to nearly bursting.
I gasp at the sight, taken aback at the sheer amount of paper on display. It’s almost obscene.
“You told me you had a window,” I say.
Rook offers me a confused look. “Yes?”
“You were trying to lure me to your room with the promise of a window when you had all of this?” I sweep out a hand to encompass the shelves as Rook snorts a laugh and shakes his head.
“I guess I was tired last night. Off my game.” He smirks, then gestures toward the wall. “This is most of my collection.”
I cross the room and begin inspecting the titles. Some I recognize from their digitized versions available to us in the city. Many I’ve never heard of. I knew more books existed—millions and millions of them—but most were lost in the centuries between the wars and everything that came after.
“You can touch them,” Rook says. “Borrow whatever you want.”
I trace the lines of embossed script along the spines until I pull one out and flip it open, savoring the smell and the feel of it in my hands. “This is incredible.”
I recall the moment when Rook and I had escaped the city and I lay next to him after stitching up his side. I’d thought a place with books couldn’t be that scary. But after everything I’ve seen, I think I might have been wrong.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, a note of pride in his voice.
He settles into an armchair near the fireplace, and as I examine the bookcases, my gaze snags on the violin propped in the corner.
“Do you play?”
Rook glances at the instrument. “I do.”
“You never said anything.”
His mouth opens and then closes. “You’re right.”
It’s a small thing, and ultimately it shouldn’t matter, but it’s just another reminder that I don’t really know him as well as I thought.
“Will you play for me?”
“If you like,” he says, tipping his head and watching me with such an intense look that I turn away, trying to gather myself as I focus back on his shelves.
“Will you come sit down?” Rook asks after a moment. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I want to tell you everything. If you’re ready.”
Am I ready?
I turn around to face him, and he offers me a thoughtful look. I’m scared, but Rook always manages to make me feel less afraid.
So, I cross the room and drop onto the plush seat.
“None of this is what I imagined,” I say softly.
“I know,” he says. “And that’s intentional. There was no reason for you to know about any of this. Not at first, anyway.”
“Because The Shield wants to keep this from us. For some reason.”
“The Shield needs you, Poet. It needs the hierarchy of your world to keep your society functioning. Without the Hollows and cogs to do your manual labor, who would provide for you? Who would grow your food and make your clothes and repair your buildings? Who would provide you with all the luxuries you enjoy?”
“No one,” I say. “Or it would have to be us.”
“And do you think The Shield has any intention of toiling in a factory all day? What about your father? Or Knox?”
My cheeks warm with shame and embarrassment. “Of course not.”
“The Shield might preach about the evils of the world before the Warming Age, but they’ve set up a system that is eerily close to the one that destroyed civilization.
The haves and the have-nots, with a carefully placed middle group to make it seem like there’s a chance to join the upper echelon if they just play their cards right.
The structure relies on exploiting other classes of people to support the most ‘important’ one. ”
I nod along. “Right. I knew that, I guess. I just . . .” I shake my head.
Rook forges on. “But it also isn’t enough to simply allow you these luxuries,” he says.
“They force you to fight, sometimes die, for your privileges.
Hence the initiations at Amery. They remind you that you are expendable and that you could lose everything, too.
In that way, they keep you in line, so you never question a world that is actually unfair to everyone.
“Just like the first people who gathered on the shores of New Manhattan to build a new world, the people of the Veil gathered, too. It wasn’t called that yet, but the first leaders of our world agreed to draft the accords that would govern our people.
The most important tenet being that one class of people wouldn’t exist solely to serve another. ”
“But you still have ranks,” I say. “Your father clearly sits above everyone.”
“He does,” Rook says. “But important decisions are made together. People are allowed to question things. Push back on what they disagree with. And I’m not saying our way is perfect, either, but he works very hard to never abuse his power.
He always tries to come from a place of the greater good rather than personal gain. ”
“And The Shield is all about personal gain,” I say. I know that. I’ve seen it firsthand.
“The Shield offers an illusion of choice,” Rook continues. “All wrapped in a sparkly package, to keep you looking inward. At them. Always at them.”
I sit back in my chair and consider that, chewing the inside of my cheek.
I think about my father, understanding that he didn’t rise to his position out of empathy or concern for anyone else’s well-being.
He’s addicted to the power he holds, and he helped shape our reality in his image, along with those of The Shield and everyone like him.
“Is that why you hate New Manhattan?” I ask.
Rook stands up and paces across the room a few times, running a hand through his hair. “Not exactly. If they’d been content to simply close themselves off and exist in their bubble, things might have been fine.
“But to build their world back up from the ashes of what was left, they needed resources.
They had to find a way to provide all the comforts you enjoy, and thus, they had to plunder the Veil.
In the early years, long before either of us was born, there were constant skirmishes between our sides.
But New Manhattan was better organized at the time, and the group you call the Solitudes lost out.
Eventually, The Shield was created, and the city grew self-sufficient enough to begin enjoying a measure of security.
“But of course, they never forgot about us,” he says. “Throughout the last century or so, they’ve worked very hard to ensure we could never find the same foothold. Every time we’ve built something with any sort of permanence, they’ve marched in to destroy it.”
My stomach pitches at the darkness in his tone.
“About twenty years ago, the leaders of the Veil found this mountain. They believe it was created during one of the largest climate disasters.” He gestures around us.
“They began converting it into what you see now. My father helped build this place from the ground up. We’ve kept it a secret from The Shield during all that time.
They don’t even know it exists, and we do everything we can to ensure that never changes, using the station camps to deflect their attention.
They assume it’s all we have, and that’s why we had to blindfold you. ”
“I figured it was something like that,” I say.
“Thanks to Cloudspire, we were finally able to start building lives of stability. We’ve been able to carve out a place of relative security, and while it’s still a long way from what you enjoy in the city, it’s something we can call our own.”
“Why don’t you go somewhere else?” I ask. “Farther away, where they can’t ever find you?”
“There’s only so much habitable land left on this continent. A lot of it is still underwater, and most of what is usable has been claimed by the Neo-Cities or the Kindred.”
“Right,” I say. “That makes sense. I guess they weren’t lying about that.”
“There’s always a little truth in every lie.”
I stare out the window at wispy clouds stretching across a gray sky.
“Is this why your people raid New Manhattan?” I ask, recalling the video that Edward found in Mr. Robins’s office that night.
Rook and I still need to talk about it. I’m not sure why I’m hesitating now.
He hasn’t brought it up, and that’s starting to worry me because he never avoids discussing anything when it comes to us.
What is he afraid of? Or perhaps, more importantly, what am I so afraid of?
“They say it’s because you’re trying to take our food. ”
Rook shrugs. “Partly, yes. While we have a more consistent food supply than we’ve ever had, we’re still susceptible to bad harvests and must be careful never to waste anything.
But it’s also to remind them we’re out here.
That we aren’t going anywhere. And that at some point, they’ll have to accept that what’s left of this space isn’t only theirs to rule. ”
“Why don’t they just work with you instead of against you?” I ask. “Maybe that’s a silly question, but isn’t there enough for all of us?”
“I can’t pretend to understand their minds. In the past, The Shield was more open to trading ideas and goods with the cities, but about thirty years ago, they stopped almost entirely, cutting themselves off from everyone.”
“Why—what happened then?”
“It’s hard to know for sure, but that was around the time New Manhattan became self-sufficient.
General Sol figured out how to power the city, and .
. . it meant they didn’t need anyone else, I suppose.
Everyone was desperate to understand how they’d done it, but they turned away and threatened anyone who wandered too close.
When my father realized there was something different about me, we started to wonder if she’s the same.
I’ve tried to gather Spark the way she does, but . . . I’ve had little luck.”
He lets out a frustrated sound, and I look away, realizing that he also came to Amery to figure out his power. Our power.
A moment later, Rook appears before me, dropping to a knee. He grips the armrests of my chair, and eventually I look up to meet his gaze.
“I want to apologize for lying to you,” he says.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it,” I confess.
“Okay,” he says, exhaling a shaky breath. I appreciate that he isn’t pushing me.
Then I gesture around the room. “Do you think my father knows about all this?”
He nods. “At least some of it. The scions would have to be privy to some of the most essential details to fulfill their roles.”
I stare at a wall, trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts. “How did they keep this all a secret?” I ask, mostly to myself. Sometimes we heard rumors or stories about places beyond the city, and I feel so foolish for never questioning it.
“Memories are short,” Rook says, answering me. “If you repeat something enough times, it becomes the truth.”
“This place is so . . . remarkable.”
“I’d like to show you something,” he says. “If you’ll come with me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why?” he asks, tipping his head.
“Because I trusted you. Because I thought I knew who you were, and then you threw all of that into question.”
He opens his mouth, and I lift my hand to stop him.
“I get why you had to do it, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You know everything about me, and I feel like I know nothing about you, and that . . . hurts. It makes me feel like I was standing out there on a crumbling bridge all alone.”
He takes my hands, folding them into his. “Then let me show you just how sorry I am. Let me show you who I am.”
“No secrets this time?”
As he presses my hands against his heart, he shakes his head.
“No more secrets. Let me prove that my actions were more important than the truth I couldn’t share.
Let me prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust again.
” He pauses. “And if I fuck this up again, you can tell everyone that sometimes I’m still afraid of the dark. ”
I snort out a laugh. “No one will believe that.”
“Do we have a deal?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.
I offer him a wry smile. “It’s a deal.”