Chapter 17
chapter
seventeen
Haven
I’m eating a bowl of oats with Prue and Idris, who happens to be the hyena masked boy.
I scrape my tarnished silver spoon into the dense mixture, taking a hearty bite.
Idris raises a chipped porcelain cup with gold-breasted robins painted on the rim to his stubble-covered mouth.
The bitter smell of coffee fills the tiny kitchenette.
It’s been around twenty-four hours since Knox and I were snatched off the road. And I’ve been getting along well with my kidnappers.
“Is it just you two?” I ask, pointing my spoon at them both.
Mold sprouts along the walls and trails the rusted pipes. Dust sits in a thin film above the carpet. The house is in a serious state of ill-repair.
“There are fifteen of us here, including General Prue,” Idris says. “The others are patrolling the grounds.”
I didn’t think they had any formal chain of command. Our sergeants like to make it seem like they are unorganized and sloppy, but it’s clear to see that they are far more structured than we were led to believe.
“Where is this place?”
“One of our safehouses,” Prue says. “We have a few scattered around the divisions, along with some functional settlements. Our numbers are increasing by the day. It’s been tricky finding ways to shelter everyone.”
“I didn’t know there were so many of you,” I confess.
“It wasn’t always this big,” she says. “At first, we resisted the Bind because we didn’t understand it.
So, we ran away from our homes and society.
Lived like wild beasts in the forests and great parks.
When your mother discovered the truth, we finally had proof, and with it we could grow our numbers, build our networks, and infiltrate their systems.”
“I’m a soldier at the Forge. I’m training to join an elite unit overseen by the Commandant,” I say. “Maybe I can help.”
My mother died for this, and I plan to continue her legacy. This is greater than punishing my father and the Supreme Director. This is for the children who will grow up in a broken world, for both the Untamed and the Commons.
“We have a contact in the Forge,” Prue says. “We’ll advise him that you are with us, and he’ll reach out to you if we need any intel. Thank you, Haven, for your offer.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask, surprised.
I never told her my real name.
“When you stopped time, you called yourself Haven,” Prue says with a small smile.
“You can’t say my name out loud,” I say, glancing behind me, as if Knox will hear. Even though he is nowhere near us. “I switched places with Mercy. Knox doesn’t know. Nobody does.”
“Your secret is safe with us,” Prue promises.
“You’re pretty cool,” Idris says, chewing on a buttered bagel. “You know that?”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Did you guys feed Knox? I don’t want him to die.”
“The boy ate,” Prue says. “He keeps threatening to hurt us if we don’t bring you back.”
My mouth twitches. “He is all bark and no bite.”
“You should probably go back before he gets suspicious,” Idris says. “You’ve been out here for a bit.”
The last thing I want is to raise any alarm.
“Did Warrick respond?” I ask.
“We’ve been negotiating through his proxy, Sullivan,” she says.
How predictable. Warrick couldn’t even bring himself to deal directly with my kidnappers. Some father he is. At least Sullivan cares, which means they might have a chance of seeing their prisoner again.
“You’re back!” Knox says.
His shoulders drop with relief.
“I thought they killed you.”
My shackles are back on, and Idris attached them to the long chain, just like before.
“I’m their leverage,” I say. “They’re negotiating with Warrick.”
“Where did they take you?”
“They got someone to check my head,” I say. “I passed out after. They gave me some food, and here I am.”
He frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I will be when Warrick gives them what they want, and we get out of this place,” I say.
Knox leans his head against the wall. His forehead is caked with blood, and his jacket is covered in dirt. I’m a little guilty that I’ve been having a blast with the Resistance members while he was left here to suffer alone.
“I’m losing my mind,” he groans.
“Should we play a game?”
“What kind?”
“Hmm,” I say thoughtfully. “The kind where I ask questions, and you answer.”
Knox’s mouth twitches. “So, an interrogation?”
“No,” I say with a smile. “A game.”
Knox stretches his legs.
“Shoot,” he says.
I sit upright, pleased that he wants to satisfy my curiosity.
“What’s the deal with Ender?” I ask. “Who put that stick up his ass and why did they leave it there?”
Knox chuckles. “You’re trying to get me killed.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Ender isn’t just another high-ranking officer; he’s been meticulously groomed by his father to take his place as the next Supreme Director.
He was drilled in strategy, manipulation, and politics.
Every lesson is designed to prepare him for absolute authority,” Knox says.
“To secure the top seat and lead the Continent, he has to be ruthless, calculating, and unflinchingly cold.”
“Never saw him as a politician,” I say.
I rarely watch his father’s speeches on the screens. Not since he reversed the law that protects the children of rebels. His smile is always a tad too wide, his words coldly polished, his promises overly exaggerated.
I try to picture Ender at a podium, smiling at the avid reports, but the thought is impossible to conjure. He is too sulky, too self-absorbed, too frigid to win people over with his faux charm.
“That is why he is going to wed your sister,” Knox says. “Everyone loves a family man.”
“How romantic,” I say dryly.
“My turn,” Knox says. “I have a few questions of my own.”
“I thought we agreed I would be asking the questions.”
“I just let you think that,” Knox says, tilting his head. “What is it like having a twin?”
“We never got along as children,” I say. A smile drifts along my face. “We fought all the time. I think our feud started when I accidentally stuck gum in her hair. She had to shave her head, and she never forgave me.”
“Sounds brutal,” he says, with a wry grin. “You two look so alike. How could your mother tell you apart?”
“A mother’s intuition.” I shrug. “We could never trick her.”
“Do you switch places often?” he asks.
My eyes narrow, but his face is relaxed. That familiar smile tugging at his lips.
“No,” I say slowly. “We only did it when we were young. I struggled with mathematics, while she couldn’t pass her science class. So, we would sit in for each other’s exams, since we were decent in the other’s subject.”
“Sounds quite convenient.”
“It was at the time. We’re best friends now,” I say. “I just wish my mother could see us. She’d be so happy that we are getting along.”
She had always said that having a sister was a blessing. At the time, I had vehemently disagreed, but now I know that Mercy is special. Even if we argue at times and don’t have much in common, I know that she will always protect me as I will her.
“I’m sorry,” Knox whispers. “About your mother.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you?” he asks gently.
“Seven,” I say.
Knox is silent, and I turn to my side to get some sleep. The floor is hard, and my ribs are sore, but I don’t have the strength to talk anymore.
By tomorrow, we should hear back from the High General’s office about how they plan to handle the prisoner exchange or if they reject the offer.
“Night, Mercy,” Knox says.
“Good night,” I murmur.
Prue nudges my shoulder at dawn. The windows are barred with thick planks, but I can see twinkles of midmorning light creeping in. Like a serrated blade, it cuts through my skull, making my eyes throb.
It’s been two days since we were captured. I would kill for a fresh pair of clothes. My uniform is stained with dirt and dry blood. Knox doesn’t look any better. He’s curled up on the floor, eyes closed, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones.
“Your father is buying time,” she whispers. “I don’t think he has any intention of releasing the prisoner in exchange for you. He is likely assembling a search and rescue team.”
I rub my eyes, pulling on the chain.
“What now?”
“We’ll need to send him a message,” she says. “I’ll need a lock of your hair.”
“As long as it’s not a finger, I’m fine,” I say.
Prue brings out a knife and snips a piece of hair from my nape.
“You can use the necklace too,” I say.
Warrick bought it for Mercy on our birthday. He never got me presents because I was a “disobedient brat,” in his words. I keep the chain on so it can help me channel more of my sister’s good nature and remind me to stiffen my temper.
“That might stir him,” I add.
Prue unclips the gold necklace with the dainty swan from my throat and tucks it into her pocket.
She heads out the door, and I lean my head back.
“What did she want?” Knox asks, stirring from his slumber.
“More leverage,” I say. “My father is not balking.”
“We don’t negotiate with the Resistance,” he says. “It is taught in our training. Your father cannot help you. We are going to die in this ugly place.”
“You’re supposed to be the optimist.”
“Well, fuck that,” he says. “It doesn’t pay my bills. We need an escape plan.”
“Any ideas?” I ask.
Knox leans his head back, groaning in dismay.
“No.”