11
Rook instructs me to return to my room, put on some warm clothing, and wait for him.
About twenty minutes later, I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock comes at the door. He’s added a jacket to his outfit, and the sight of him in his element makes my stomach turn liquid with messy warmth.
“Hi,” I say as he stuffs his hands into his back pockets and cocks his head. We just had a moment in his room. I want to keep my distance, and it occurs to me how much it sucks trying to be angry with someone who’s so physically undeniable.
But it’s more than that. It’s his self-possession. His confidence. And the fact that I’m pretty damn sure he’s genuinely sorry about everything.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Where are we going?”
He gestures with his chin to some distant spot neither one of us can see. “Into the forest.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
They blindfolded me and told me so little about this place, but Rook wants to share a piece of it, and that feels like a significant step toward finding what we lost.
I grab the leather jacket I arrived in. It’s seen better days, but I was able to get most of the blood off at least.
“This way,” Rook says. We walk side by side down various halls, passing a few people who nod to Rook and mostly ignore me.
I understand the source of their hostility now, and I can’t fault anyone for it. It would be easy to say that I wasn’t personally responsible, but to the people of the Tiera Frais, I represent the enemy. It’s that simple.
We enter a huge room with concrete floors, while the ceiling and walls are left as exposed rock, soaring high overhead. The scent is earthy, a little pungent, but not unpleasant.
“What is that?” I ask. “The smell?”
“Gasoline,” Rook says. “We use it in some of our vehicles.”
From a young age, we all learn about the wars people once fought for fossil fuels, so they could power their cars and machines.
When the worst days of the Warming Age hit, a lot of it had been depleted, burned up, wasted.
It’s also responsible for the storm clouds that now plague our world.
It’s strange to think that a substance pulled from the earth could have caused so much heartache and death.
“Most of the cars operate on solar or electric power,” Rook explains. “But sometimes gas is needed in a pinch. It’s hard to come by, though.”
I notice a few people tinkering away at various vehicles. A few pickup trucks with wide, flat beds and some larger ones with huge carriages on the back are likely used to transport goods. I spy motorcycles and then a row of small, four-wheeled buggies.
“ATVs,” Rook explains, gesturing to one on the end. “Our ride for tonight.”
He unplugs one from a wall outlet, swings a leg over the seat, and drops onto it. “Hop on.”
I hesitate, knowing that riding together will mean pressing myself against him. I don’t hate that idea, but then I hate myself for wanting it.
“Come on,” he says. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
I huff out a small laugh and then swing my leg over, straddling the seat, with Rook’s warm body wedged between my thighs.
“Hang on,” he says, his voice low and rumbling.
I wrap my arms around him, sliding my hands along his stomach, feeling the ridges of defined muscle.
He’s so warm, and his heartbeat pulses against my chest. Then he flicks a key and twists the handlebars before the ATV roars to life.
With a rev of the engine, we lurch forward, shooting out of a wide sliding door and onto a cleared stretch of plain.
The wind tears at my hair as we fly across the earth, entering the forest and barreling down a network of trails.
Rook races us past the branches and leaves, and my heart expands.
I inhale a gulp of air that tastes like sunshine.
It smells just like Rook. A little wild.
A little sharp around the edges, but warm and full of promise.
We continue down the path for several minutes before he brings us to a stop.
He cuts the engine, and silence descends, enveloping us.
But it isn’t completely quiet. Not really.
If I listen, I can hear the wind rustling the leaves and the soft chitter of birds and insects.
I hear the rush of water and the tiny, insignificant sounds of life breathing through the forest. Things I’ve only ever read about or heard through the filter of a screen.
Rook looks back. “How was that?”
“Amazing,” I say, and he grins.
“Come on. I’ll show you one of our gardens.”
We hop off the ATV, and he leads me down a narrow path through the trees. It doesn’t take long before we emerge into a large clearing lined with hundreds of rows of plants.
“This is one of our vegetable plots.” He sweeps out a hand, pride in his voice.
“It provides most of what we need to feed Cloudspire for the summer months.” He points into the distance, where I see a row of greenhouses.
“And those keep us sustained when the temperature drops. It never gets as cold as it used to in the Warming Age, but some things still can’t survive the winter.
Resources can get tight, but we make sure no one starves. ”
I stare at it all in awe. I haven’t had many reasons to visit the greenhouses in New Manhattan. I’ve simply trusted that food would always be available, but seeing this makes me realize just how much I’ve been taking for granted.
I spot a few people working, tending the plants and wearing long aprons with large pockets and wide-brimmed sun hats. Someone spots us, and Rook waves before they return the gesture and resume their work.
Rook leads me down a row of tall green stalks.
“Corn,” he says to me, and I think I knew that, but I wouldn’t have been able to say for sure.
We pass lettuce and beets. Strawberries and blueberries.
Apple trees and even some grape vines. He points them all out, naming everything, saving me from having to ask.
We stop at a plot bursting with carrots, their lacy green tops waving slightly in the breeze. Rook bends down and yanks one from the earth, rubbing away the dirt before he hands it to me. “Try it.”
I frown at the offering. “Really?”
He laughs. “I promise it’s fine.”
I’ve never eaten something straight from the ground, but he bends down, plucks another carrot from the garden, and bites into it.
Now I feel silly, so I follow suit. It crunches under my teeth, exploding in my mouth with a burst of sweetness.
I’ve had carrots before, hundreds of them, but this one is so full of flavor that it actually makes my teeth hurt.
“Why is it different?” I ask. “What did you do to it?”
Rook smiles, and we start walking again. “Nothing. This is just what food is supposed to taste like when it’s grown out in the open.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, and after a moment, Rook peers back at me. “You okay?”
“It just never occurred to me that food could taste different.”
He offers me a sympathetic look. “You don’t know what you don’t know.”
I guess that’s true, but it still feels like he’s being very generous.
We pass through the garden and emerge into another patch of forest. The sun is setting, and clouds gather overhead. I’m not itchy, though, so maybe the storm will clear off tonight.
“I have something else to show you,” Rook says, and we walk for about ten more minutes before we again emerge from the trees and find ourselves on a cliff overlooking a valley.
It’s lush and green like a leafy emerald, spreading for miles.
Blood rushes in my ears as the sun sets between a range of distant mountains, casting the entire valley in golden light.
I’m overcome by how big everything is.
It sounds strange, but after growing up bordered by the soaring towers of New Manhattan crowding me on every side, this is the first time I’ve ever stood under a vast, continuous sky with nothing surrounding me.
It’s overwhelming. Crushing. Hard to breathe.
It feels like I might fall through the earth and become smothered forever.
“I wanted you to see this,” Rook says. “When I was at Amery and I’d think of home, this is what I’d picture. I won’t deny the city offers a certain kind of glamorous beauty of its own, but it’s closed off. Artificial. Generated to keep you all happy and looking anywhere but out.”
He says those words carefully, as if he’s worried about offending me, but it’s at that moment I realize how right he is.
I nod and approach the cliff’s edge, stopping just short of stepping off.
I peer down, feeling like the world is shrinking below me, and then I look out as it expands, stretching over endless miles I can barely comprehend.
“I understand why you missed this,” I whisper. “It might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Rook comes to stand next to me. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel the warmth of his body and the way the air compresses around us.
I watch his profile. The way the sinking sun highlights the contours of his straight nose and full lips.
I think about all the times I’ve kissed him and how much I want to do it again.
Neither one of us says anything for a long time. We enjoy the comfortable silence—the rush of the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, and other sounds of the natural world I’ve never heard before, but some instinct rooted deep into my human DNA understands them.
I inhale deeply, my bruised ribs twinging, but it also feels like this air is literally healing me.
A tear slips down my cheek that I can’t explain. I’m overwhelmed. Overcome. Broken down and torn apart piece by piece, as every incontrovertible truth I’ve ever believed has shattered.
Rook moves closer, and I stay where I am, leaning into him. Slowly, he reaches up and tucks my hair back over my shoulder. I’m still conflicted. Still hurting from his lies, but I don’t want to be mad at him. I don’t want anything but this moment and this quiet intimacy.
As the stars emerge in the night sky, they glow so brightly and in such abundance that I can’t help but be left in complete awe. It feels like I could reach out and scoop up a handful to keep in my pocket.
I think of the tattoos on Rook’s arms. Now I truly understand them.
I remember how they’d stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite explain.
Freedom, I remind myself.
They made me think of freedom, and I’m struck by a sense of insignificance. Of how small my life has been with my entire world confined to a single strip of land.
When Trinity accused me of being a Keeper in front of everyone in New Manhattan, I thought it was an ending.
But out here, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe it was actually the beginning.