Chapter Nine
“C hildren too young to work live here.” Rowena paused outside the largest of the dormitories. “Sometimes they’re lucky enough to stay with their parents but not always, and often parents die before the child joins the labor pool.”
She wondered if her dispassionate recitation covered how much she missed her mother, even now. For children who were handed over to assigned caregivers, the future was bleaker than usual. Slay took in the facilities and then he seemed to read her expression.
“I guess I won’t be hearing any happy stories,” he said.
She managed a smile. “It’s not that sort of a tour.”
“There must’ve been some bright moments, though, right? Or maybe I just want to believe that because otherwise…” He sighed and rubbed his chest.
Rowena dug deep. “When my mother was alive, she told me about her life before she was captured. She described birds in the sky and flowers growing wild on the hillside, a riot of purple. She told me a lot about what it was like growing up in Eldritch lands. She mentioned her home village, Kelnora.” With a wry smile, she added, “Most of it sounded made up to me, but when I left Golgerra with Prince Alastor, I was stunned at how much bigger the world is than I ever imagined.”
“I would like to give it to you,” Slay said.
“The world?”
Oddly, it didn’t seem like he was joking.
He’d mentioned a broken heart when they first met, so maybe flirting with Rowena was helping him forget about that for a while?
Unexpectedly it gave her a pang to recall that he loved someone else.
But she could live with being a distraction, a bright spot to help keep him sane in a terrible situation.
“Yeah. You deserve so much better than this,” he said.
“Everyone does. That’s the whole point of our…endeavor.”
Slay nodded as a woman came out of the creche with a group of five children, none older than four. To Rowena’s eyes, she was exhausted and none too gentle. For her, this was probably work, and she had little kindness to give.
“Let’s move on,” she said softly.
There was a drop point nearby and Slay kept watch while she moved the stone.
Nothing. There were fifty different sites scattered around the undercity, and they would visit them all before the curfew bell rang.
She punctuated the tour with interesting stories, as many as she could remember, but so many of them ended badly.
There were no happy endings down here, unless you counted the sweet release of death.
And in that case, it always ended on that note, sooner or later.
“What’s your happiest memory?” Slay asked, seeming to sense that this walk down memory lane was destroying her mood.
“The first time I changed,” Rowena answered without hesitation.
She’d noticed the guards following them a while ago, but she didn’t think they’d seen her check the last drop. Her heart raced, and she tried to calm down, willing herself not to panic.
“Will you tell me about it?” He leaned close as if soliciting an intimate confidence, then he whispered, “I’m sure you clocked them but we’ve attracted some fans.”
“I see them,” she murmured.
The guards weren’t even trying to be subtle, ambling openly in their wake. Maybe that was the point—to tell Rowena and Slay that freedom was an illusion here—and that they were constantly being watched.
As if I could ever forget.
“Let’s give them something to talk about.”
Slay backed her toward the far wall, the boundary demarcating where the undercity connected to the labyrinth leading upward.
Rowena noticed that he was careful not to touch her as he propped an arm on the rock face and leaned down.
From the guard’s angle, it probably looked like they were kissing.
She wished she could really sell it, and then some devilish impulse took hold of her.
What’s the worst that can happen? I panic? Get scared? Been there, survived that.
She stretched up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his, hardly even a kiss, because in all honesty she didn’t know how.
Kissing was usually soft and gentle, born of affection, not part of the tyrant’s program.
It was strange being so close, touching only with their mouths.
His was warm and dry, and his eyes widened briefly in shock, then his thick lashes slowly drifted down.
I’m supposed to close my eyes?
It was better when she did, since she no longer had an embarrassingly close view of his eyeballs, and the side of his face. For a long moment neither of them moved.
Is this all there is to it?
Rowena silently admitted to faint disappointment, but on the plus side, she wasn’t panicked. This didn’t remind her of anything she’d suffered before. As she was about to draw back, Slay parted his lips and nuzzled at hers, sending a little shiver through her.
There’s more to it.
She’d seen people kissing with open mouths, tongues in play, but he didn’t do that, just soft sips and delicate presses that made her quiver.
He didn’t put his hands on her at all, and she wished he would, even if she freaked a little.
To test herself, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned into him. So far, so good.
The kiss heated and he dared more, a graze of tongue on her lower lip. She gasped and drew back, not because she was scared, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. From start to finish, it was lovely and left her craving more, exactly how this was supposed to work.
Ro smiled. “How was that?”
“I could kiss you for days,” he said, low.
The husky rumble of his voice sent another wave of pleasurable chills through her.
She risked a glance over his shoulder, finding that the guards were no longer interested in their doings.
She’d talked to enough people in Hallowell to be able to term this a date, though the opportunities for leisure in the undercity were few and far between.
Gambling, drinking, and sex offered the most diversion, but all carried risk in some form.
“I’m pleased with myself,” she confessed. Taking a deep breath, Rowena threaded her fingers through his as she moved off, ready to continue their quest. “Is this okay?” she added, feeling strangely shy.
“Fucking fantastic.” He rubbed his thumb over her skin, such a soft touch.
Her skin prickled on her back for some reason.
That often happened with Slay, nothing she’d ever experienced before.
Her nipples ached in the aftermath of their kiss, and when he whispered in her ear, the top of her head tingled.
Was any of that normal? She could ask Hettie, if she was willing to tolerate the kindly teasing that would accompany the answers.
The feel of his hand in hers didn’t set off her alarms either. Maybe if they moved slowly and she set the pace, eventually—
Oh, here.
Quickly she checked the area and found no one out of place. While Slay watched her back, as he’d promised, she darted into the alcove to check the next drop. Five sites later, she was starting to despair of ever locating the message that must be waiting.
I didn’t imagine the signal.
If they had changed the drop sites since she was gone, she had no hope of finding it. Can’t get disheartened.
“Let’s take a break,” Slay said at last.
Rowena shook her head. Though she was tired and her whole body hurt, she couldn’t quit until they ran out of time.
Slay appeared to read her resolve and let out a quiet sigh. “We shouldn’t miss the evening meal. Neither of us can afford to pare down further.”
“True. I’ll make you a deal. If we don’t find it soon, we’ll head back and get our rations.”
“Holding you to that,” he said.
Two more stops proved fruitless, but the next one after that, the drop near the market, had a scrap of paper hidden in it.
The characters wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, as the resistance had come up with their own pictorial writing as most in the undercity couldn’t read otherwise.
Keeping the code secret reduced the risk.
Rowena memorized the message and then ate the scrap of paper.
“Tomorrow night at eight bells,” she whispered. Louder, she added, “This was fun, I’m so hungry. Shall we eat?”
The next night, Slay battled amorphous dread.
To make plans, the resistance had to meet.
But meeting meant that someone with no loyalty might hear about the assembly and rat them out to the guards.
He wasn’t clear on the details, but it seemed like that was what happened before, courtesy of that scumbag Lucan.
This time, they couldn’t count on Prince Alastor saving agitators from the block.
None of these fears seemed to trouble Rowena, who was wending a circuitous path through the undercity.
After making periodic checks that they weren’t being tailed, they waited a full five minutes—she counted the seconds—before dodging into a rocky outcropping.
The passage was tight and narrow, seeming to have been carved by hand, and it opened to a wide space that might be a natural cavern.
“Is this where you used to meet?” he asked.
Rowena shook her head. “That would be unwise. Before, we used the comfort house, and that’s why we failed. Too many people come and go, making use of the services and facilities.”
Slay blinked. “Facilities?”
“Hot baths for those with the means to pay. Warm oil massages. It’s not just sex. I always wished I could afford to pay someone to brush my hair and listen to my complaints.”
“If you have a brush, I can handle the rest,” Slay offered, wondering if she’d let him.
In all honesty, it wasn’t like he had any skill at doing hair, but how hard could it be?
Rowena offered him a gentle smile, one that kindled an answering warmth in his chest. Damn, when she looked at him like that, his sternum hurt, like his heart wanted to leave his body and fly over to her on silly cartoon wings.
“You know I don’t,” she said, running a hand through hair that had become progressively lanker the longer she stayed here.
If she was pretty under these conditions, she might drive people to madness when she was clean.
His fantasies used to be much different, but now he yearned for things like running water and hot food; clothes were a different matter.
After working the sewing machines, he’d never buy anything without knowing how it was made again.
He did enjoy imagining Rowena clad in a pretty dress, however, because then he’d have the pleasure of stripping it off.
Settle down. This is not the time.
Quietly grateful that she couldn’t tell when he was indulging in dirty thoughts, he followed her to the back of the cavern. There was no other word for this place. Slay and Rowena were among the first to arrive. He recognized Hettie, though not the woman standing with her.
She had dark skin and hair shorn close to her head. Her strong features were faintly lined, and she held herself like a queen from her broad shoulders to her sandaled feet. Unlike most, she wore a pristine dress that set her apart from the working class.
Hettie stepped forward to make the introductions. “Chantisse, this is Slay. He’s from Ash Valley.”
Shrewd brown eyes met his, taking his measure in a glance. “Prisoner of war?”
He nodded, mildly impressed that she knew of the cat settlement. Chantisse must be better schooled than Slay, who’d slacked off constantly and didn’t know shit when his ‘education’ ended.
“I thought I’d be executed when they stopped the interrogations for intel,” he said.
Chantisse shook her head with a weary look. “That’s a waste of resources, no? They need grist for the mill, so they work their prisoners until they drop. They don’t even let the little ones who are born down here go, fuel for their endless engine.”
She kept saying ‘them’ like she wasn’t part of the Gol empire, but maybe that was a class difference? Discreetly, he breathed in and caught an unfamiliar scent. Not Gol. Not Eldritch, either. Closer to Animari, but she wasn’t cat or wolf and bear didn’t seem quite right either.
“It’s monstrous,” Rowena said.
Hettie nodded. “We’ll be twice as careful this time. And we won’t meet often. After this, we’ll use trustworthy runners to carry verbal messages.”
“Different ones each time,” Chantisse added. “We cannot fail again.” She wore an amused look as she caught Slay regarding her intently. “Did you figure it out, jaguar?”
That told him she had Animari senses; otherwise she couldn’t identify his other aspect so flawlessly. Abashed, Slay shook his head. “I’m not widely traveled. Before this, I’d only left Ash Valley a handful of times. Cats are territorial,” he added with a shrug.
“So I understand. And I’m part Gol, part bear. My shifted form is hybrid, an armored ursine. I have Animari senses, not the healing.”
He guessed that perhaps Chantisse had been born of a guard and a prisoner, like Rowena.
She wouldn’t identify as Gol under those circumstances, as she’d been oppressed by their horrific system her entire life.
No wonder she was leading the fight, despite the risks.
Like Rowena, Chantisse would probably do anything to topple the tyrant.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said.
She made a dismissive gesture as others started arriving. For such a big undertaking, startlingly few people turned up. That was safer, certainly, but how could they do anything with twenty prisoners?
“Most of you know me,” Chantisse said, calling the meeting to order. “But if you don’t, I run the gaming house. That provides me certain liberties and we’ll capitalize on that.”
“What’s our strategy this time?” someone asked.
“Gather information. First we watch and then we strike. We do have a plan, but it’s too soon to unveil all the details,” Chantisse said.
Smart. They needed to test their core group first.
The resistance leader indicated Rowena then. “You wanted to say a few words?”
Ro stepped forward and lifted her chin, all determination.
“I wish I could show you the sky. For a while, I had a gadget that let me capture images to keep. We’re missing out on everything here.
Everything. We all know that they’ll never change the system willingly because it benefits them.
Our labor allows them to live in luxury.
“I want to give the world to all of you. The outside world doesn’t hate us, not like the tyrant says.
If we succeed, you could live in Hallowell and do whatever you wish.
There are other mixed settlements. Another thing they lied about…
the borders aren’t closed to us anymore.
I went to Ash Valley myself. If we stand up, when we fight, when we win , we won’t be isolated from the world.
I promise that Prince Alastor won’t rule like his brother.
This won’t be easy, but I need all of you with me. Will you fight?”
“Yes!” The acclamation came softly, echoing in the cavern.
Slay understood why they didn’t shout, but the faces turned toward Rowena all shared one quality; they were rapt and ready to follow her anywhere.
Hell, so was he.