Chapter Fourteen
Adrian
“I know nothing of gods and men. I know only suffering and pain.”
Iwoke up the next morning with a note underneath my door that said, simply: luxury goods.
I showered, dressed, and forced down some granola before making my way out of my apartment in a daze.
Joining the growing throng of people darting across the square, making their way toward elevators and office buildings, I fought to ignore the way the crowd still seemed to part at the appearance of my gray jumpsuit.
I stared ahead at the stone walls on either side of the elevators so I didn’t have to look aside at the inhabitants of the Underground who still stopped to gape at me as I passed.
I wondered absently how long that would last. Would they still watch me in a year, in ten, in a thousand?
I sighed, closing my eyes as the elevators dinged loudly and we all stepped forward together. So intent was I on not making any eye contact with those around me, I didn’t realize who stood next to me until she spoke.
“I tried to warn you,” Zya said, her voice low.
I took a breath, ignoring the pang in my chest at the obvious pity in her tone.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I hissed in response.
“No,” she answered simply. I felt the movement of her shoulders as they shrugged against mine. “We’ll never make it back. But as hard as that is to accept, Champion, there are worse fates.”
My head whipped to her just as the doors opened and she stepped out onto level six; textiles.
I opened my mouth to call after her but she was gone with the crowd, sweeping into the tunnel beyond on the way to another day of work.
My lips shut with the doors but I blinked at where she'd been only moments before.
Champion, she'd called me. Not Fallen, not Betrayed. Champion.
Did this Second Ring daughter still truly think of the Trials as something one could win?
Before I could ruminate on the matter for too long, the doors were opening again and I was shuffled along with the second to last of the workers making their way down to the depths. The ninth level; luxury goods. My assignment for the day.
I made my way down the hall toward the lockers and reached for a clipboard hanging in front of the doors to the broader chamber within where men and women stood hunched over separate workstations.
They were bent almost entirely over, tiny magnification tools pressed to one eye as they examined the gems which had been pulled from the mines below, evaluating them for clarity, cut, and size, or so my clipboard said.
Others nearby, stationed behind them, crafted settings with the smallest pliers.
They made gold and silver rings, chains and clasps for bracelets and necklaces, hooks for earrings.
Further down the hall, some workers processed furs from level five, evaluating them for use before sorting them into separate piles to be constructed by textiles.
Another portion of the level worked to distill and ferment various alcohols and liquors I'd noticed the First Ringers thoroughly enjoyed during my time there. I lingered there the longest, watching the work and smiling faintly when I thought of what these proud laborers would think of the Finnegan brothers’ illicit operations.
“So you can smile,” someone spoke.
I turned to see Kane grinning my way. He bent at the knees, wrapped his arms around an enormous wooden barrel, and hefted it over his shoulders. Then he was turning and carrying it off to place it among the various racks in the back to age for the gods knew how long.
Irritated, I followed after him.
“When I have a reason to,” I answered.
“So what was the reason just then?”
I hesitated, wrapping my arms around myself as Kane heaved the massive barrel onto the rack with the others, grunting with the effort as he did.
“I was…remembering,” I confessed. “Two guys I knew back in Sanctuary, friends.”
He glanced over his shoulder, dark hair falling into his eyes as they met mine. He gave me a quick once over as he secured the barrel to the rack.
“I know there’s nothing I can say to help,” he said.
There was something sincere in his tone that had me avoiding eye contact as he continued.
“But you could have friends here too, if you wanted. I know you won’t forget them.
We would never ask you to. But Darius is here and Roxy, Hugh, and I aren’t so bad. If you wanted to talk about them—”
“I don’t.”
He watched me for a moment longer, head cocked to the side in curiosity, but then nodded.
“So don’t,” he replied, dropping his hands away from the barrel as two other men walked by, carrying another barrel between them.
We watched them go in silence before either of us spoke again.
“Look, the Underground is all I know so I can’t say I understand what you’re going through.
But if somebody ripped me away from here, away from Roxy, from our parents, I’d have probably fallen apart a lot sooner than you did. If it’s any consolation.”
I met his eyes and couldn’t help but nod in appreciation. He couldn’t understand, none of them could, none except Darius, and he wasn’t going to lie to me and say he did. But he could understand what it was to lose someone, how much that might hurt. And that was enough. It would have to be.
“Okay,” I said finally, nodding.
Something settled between us. An understanding of some sort. No further words were uttered, no explanations or offers, but when Kane ended his shift that evening saying he was meeting the others at Darius and Roxy’s apartment, I went with him.
For a time, it was almost as it was before.
Roxy welcomed me with a broad smile and offered me a beer.
I took it gratefully, clutching it for support while everyone arranged themselves carefully around the seating in the living room, giving me space to choose my own spot.
I settled in next to Hugh on the couch and listened while they all spoke about their days.
Roxy complained about a whole shipment of silverware getting bent when the goons from delivery dropped them off their carts.
Darius mentioned the beans were coming in nicely this year and Kane explained that the demand for whiskey seemed to be rising.
Hugh spoke little of the work he did on level three.
Water collection and purification wasn’t all that interesting to anyone, apparently.
I didn’t say a word for the first hour. I just sat there, sipping my beer in silence and tried to ignore the concerned glances they shot me from time to time, as if they were afraid I might crack again at any moment.
Still, they seemed content to let me wade into the conversation in whatever way was most comfortable for me.
I should've been grateful for their understanding, should've seen how much they cared about my sanity, to grant me that small mercy.
But instead I merely felt overwhelmed and excused myself from the room, after two hours, to fetch myself another beer and more for whoever needed it.
I braced my hands on either side of the sink, taking deep breaths and blinking away the tears before they could fall. I felt as though I was going to pass out and suddenly all I wanted was to be alone, away from here, far away.
“Adrian.”
The way my best friend said my name nearly shattered me to pieces. I reigned in my emotions and heaved a shaking breath as I turned to face him.
“I know how hard this is,” he told me, taking a cautious step forward. “Believe me, I do.”
I clamped my mouth shut and nodded. I knew he did. Better than anyone else, the Culled could understand. I knew that. And yet I couldn’t quite forgive him for having never tried to get home. Not even once.
“I know acceptance feels impossible now,” he said and my brow furrowed in confusion.
“But it’s so much easier when you finally find it.
When you realize this is your life now, that this is the hand you’ve been dealt and you have to make the most of it.
There’s a life to be found down here for you, Adrian.
And I hope that I, that Roxy and Kane and Hugh, can all be a part of it. It'll take some time but I think—”
“Acceptance?” I asked. “You think I’ve given up?”
He blinked at me as though he was just as stunned as I was.
“You—what do you mean?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“I haven’t given up on trying to reach Sanctuary,” I told him. “I never will, Darius. I’m not you. I can’t just wipe my family, my friends, from my mind. I can’t just find a new life here because it’s easier.”
“You think I just forgot about them?”
“What am I supposed to think?” I snapped, throwing my arms up in exasperation. “You never talk about them. You never tried to get back. You never—”
“But you did!” He was shouting now.
Our argument was beginning to catch the attention of the others. Roxy came to the threshold of the kitchen. Her wide, sad eyes swung from Darius to me and back again.
“You tried and you failed and you can’t accept that!" he screamed at me. "You’ve always been so damn stubborn, Adrian, and never satisfied.”
“I was the one who was never satisfied? You were the one who wanted your name in the Hall of Heroes! You were the one who wanted to sign up for the Trials in the first place! You’re the whole reason I’m even here!”
His shoulders fell at that. I saw the moment his jaw clenched, the heat of fury went out of his eyes.
“So that’s it,” he muttered, his voice colder and more distant than I'd ever heard it before. “You blame me.”
I shook my head.