Текст книги "The 100 / The Hundred"

Автор книги: Кэсс Морган

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“Careful there, Jaha.”

Wells twisted around and saw a tall kid in a bloodstained guard uniform. The boy who’d forced his way onto the dropship—who’d held Wells’s father hostage. “Earth is still in recovery mode. We don’t know how much bullshit it can handle.”

Another wave of snickers and snorts rippled around the fire, and Wells felt a rush of sudden, sharp anger. Because of this kid, his father—the person responsible for protecting the entire human race—had been shot, and he had the nerve to stand there and accuse Wellsof bullshit?

“Excuse me?” Wells said, lifting his chin to give the boy his best officer’s stare.

“Cut the crap, okay? Just say what you really mean. If we do exactly what you say, then you won’t report us to your father.”

Wells narrowed his eyes. “Thanks to you, my father is probably in the hospital.” Being given the best possible care, and on his way to a swift recovery, Wells added silently. He hoped it was true.

“If he’s even alive,” Graham interjected, and laughed. For a second, Wells thought he saw the other boy wince.

Wells took a step forward, but then another voice yelled C voWells out from the crowd, stopping him. “So you’re not a spy?”

“A spy?” Wells almost laughed at the accusation.

“Yeah,” the impostor guard agreed. “Spying on us just like these bracelets, right?”

Wells looked at the kid in the ill-fitting guard uniform more closely. Had he been told about the purpose of the bracelets, or had he figured it out on his own? “If the Council wanted to spy on you,” he said, ignoring the comment about the transponders, “don’t you think they’d choose someone a bit less obvious?”

The boy in the bloody uniform smirked. “We can discuss the pros and cons of your father’s administration some other time. But for now, just tell us: If you’re not a spy, what the hell are you doing here? There’s no way anyone will believe you were actually Confined.”

“I’m sorry,” Wells said in a tone that conveyed anything but regret. “You appeared in a stolen guard’s uniform and held my father hostage in order to break onto this ship. I think you’rethe one who owes us an explanation.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “I did what I had to do to protect my sister.”

“Your sister?” Wells repeated. People broke the population laws more often on Walden than on Phoenix. But Wells had never heard of anyone having a sibling, not since the Cataclysm.

“That’s right.” The boy crossed his arms and met Wells’s eyes with a challenging stare. “Now I’m going to ask you one more time, what are you really doing here?”

Wells took a step forward. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, let alone this criminal, who was probably lying about having a sister and who knew what else. But then a flash of movement caught his eye. Clarke was heading toward the fire from the other side of the clearing, where she’d been tending to the injured passengers.

Wells turned back to the tall boy and sighed, his anger draining away. “I’m here for the same reason you are.” His eyes darted toward Clarke, who was still out of earshot. “I got myself Confined to protect someone I care about.”

The crowd fell silent. Wells turned his back on them and started walking, not caring if their eyes followed him as he made his way toward Clarke.

For a moment, the sight of her overwhelmed his brain. The light in the clearing had changed as the sky grew darker, making the flecks of gold in her green eyes appear to glow. She was more beautiful on Earth than he’d ever seen her.

Their eyes locked, and a chill traveled down his spine. Less than a year ago, he’d been able to tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. But now her expression was inscrutable.

“What are you doing here, Wells?” she asked, her voice strained and weary.

She’s in shock, Wells told himself, forcing his mind to wrap around the ill-fitting explanation. “I came for you,” he said softly.

Her face assumed an expression that broke through the barriers, a mixture of sorrow, frustration, and pity that seemed to travel from Clarke’s eyes straight into his chest.

“I wish you hadn’t.” She sighed and pushed past him, striding off without another glance.

Her words knocked the air out of him, and for a moment, all Wells could think about was remembering how to breathe. Then he heard a chorus of murmurs from the bonfire behind him, an Cehiw. d turned, curious despite himself. Everyone was pointing upward at the sky, which was turning into a symphony of color.

First, orange streaks appeared in the blue, like an oboe joining a flute, turning a solo into a duet. That harmony built into a crescendo of colors as yellow and then pink added their voices to the chorus. The sky darkened, throwing the array of colors into even sharper relief. The word sunsetcouldn’t possibly contain the meaning of the beauty above them, and for the millionth time since they’d landed, Wells found that the words they’d been taught to describe Earth paled in comparison to the real thing.

Even Clarke, who hadn’t stopped moving since the crash, froze in her tracks, her head tilted up to better appreciate the miracle taking place overhead. Wells didn’t have to see her face to know that her eyes would be widened in awe, her mouth slightly parted with a gasp as she watched something she had only ever dreamed about. Something theyhad only ever dreamed about, Wells corrected himself. He turned away, unable to look at the sky any longer, pain hardening into something dense and sharp in his chest. It was the first sunset humans had witnessed in three centuries, and he was watching it alone.

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CHAPTER 7

Bellamy

Bellamy squinted up at the sunrise. He’d always assumed those ancient poets had been full of shit, or at least had much better drugs than he’d ever tried. But they were right. It was crazy to watch the sky go from black to gray and then explode into streaks of color. It didn’t make him want to break out into song or anything, but then again, Bellamy had never been the artistic type.

He leaned over and pulled Octavia’s blanket up over her shoulder. He’d spotted it sticking out of one of the supply containers the night before and had practically knocked out some kid’s tooth in the ensuing tussle. Bellamy exhaled, watching as his breath crystallized in front of him, lingering far longer than it would on the ship, where the ventilation system practically sucked the air out of your lungs before it had a chance to leave your mouth.

He looked around the clearing. After that Clarke girl had finished evaluating Octavia and determined she only had a sprained ankle, Bellamy had carried her over toward the trees where they’d spent the night. They were going to keep their distance until he figured out how many of these kids were real criminals and how many had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bellamy squeezed his sister’s hand. It was his fault she’d been Confined. It was his fault she was here. He should’ve known she’d been planning something; she’d been talking for weeks about how hungry some of the children in her unit had been. It had been only a matter of time before she did something to feed them—even if it meant stealing. His selfless little sister was sentenced to die for having too big of a heart.

It was his job to protect her. And for the first time in her life, he’d failed.

Bellamy threw his shoulders back and raised his chin. He was tall for a six-year-old, but that didn’t stop people from staring as he made his way through the crowd at the distribution center. It wasn’t against the rules for children to come on their own, but it was rare. He went over the list his mother had made him repeat back to her three times before she’d let him leave their flat F trieClarke . Fiber meal—two credits. Glucose packets—one credit. Dehydrated grain—two credits. Tuber flakes—one credit. Protein loaf—three credits.

He darted around two women who’d stopped to grumble in front of some white things that looked like brains. Bellamy rolled his eyes and kept moving. Who cared that Phoenix got all the good stuff from the solar fields? Anyone who wanted to eat vegetables probably had little, mushy white brains themselves.

Bellamy cupped his hands under the fiber dispenser, caught the packet that slid out, and tucked it under his arm. He started to make his way over to the tuber section when something bright and shiny caught his eye. Bellamy turned and saw a pile of red, round fruit inside a display case. Normally, he didn’t care about the expensive things they locked away—twisted carrots that reminded Bellamy of orange witch fingers, and ugly mushrooms that looked more like brain-sucking black-hole zombies than food. But these were different. The fruit was a rosy pink, the same color that his neighbor Rilla turned when they played alien invasion in the corridor. Or used to play before Rilla’s father was taken away by the guards and Rilla was sent to live in the care center.

Bellamy stood on his tiptoes to read the number on the data panel. Eleven credits. That sounded like a lot, but he wanted to do something nice for his mother. She hadn’t gotten out of bed for three days. Bellamy couldn’t imagine being that tired.

“Do you want one?” an irritated voice asked. He looked up and saw a woman in a green uniform glaring at him. “Order it or step aside.”

Heat rose to Bellamy’s cheeks, and for a moment, he considered running away. But then a surge of indignation washed over his embarrassment. He wasn’t going to let some sour-faced distribution worker stop him from getting his mother the treat she deserved. “I’ll take two,” he said in the haughty voice that always made his mother roll her eyes and ask, I wonder who you got that from? “And don’t rub your fingers all over them,” he added pointedly.

The woman raised her eyebrow before glancing at the guards behind the transaction table. No one on Walden liked the guards, but his mother seemed particularly afraid of them. Lately, she’d grab Bellamy’s hand and turn in the other direction whenever she saw a patrol team approaching. Could she have done something wrong? Were the guards going to come take her away like they’d taken Rilla’s father? No, he told himself. I won’t let them.

He took his apples and marched over to the transaction table. Another distribution worker scanned his card, staring for a moment at the information on the panel before shrugging her shoulders and waving him forward. One of the guards shot him a curious look, but Bellamy kept his eyes straight ahead. He forced himself to walk until he’d left the distribution center and then broke into a run, clutching his packets to his chest as he tore down the walkway leading to his residential unit.

He palmed into their flat and shut the door carefully behind him. He couldn’t wait to show his mother what he’d brought her. He stepped into the living space, but the lights didn’t turn on. Was the sensor broken again? His stomach tightened slightly. His mother hated entering maintenance requests. She didn’t like having strang Khav ask, ers in their home. But how long could they spend in the dark?

“Mom!” Bellamy called, dashing into her room. “I’m back! I did it!” The lights were working here, and they buzzed to life as Bellamy ran through the door. But the bed was empty.

Bellamy froze as a wave of terror washed over him. She was gone. They’d taken her. He was all alone. But then a muffled stomp from the kitchen reached his ears. He sighed as his panic was quickly replaced by relief, then excitement. She was out of bed!

He ran into the kitchen. His mother was facing the small, round window that looked out into the dark staircase. One hand was placed on her lower back, as if it was hurting her. “Mom!” he called. “Look what I got you.”

His mother inhaled sharply but didn’t turn around. “Bellamy,” she said, as though he were a neighbor dropping by for an unexpected visit. “You’re back. Leave the food on the table and go to your room. I’ll be right there.”

Disappointment pressed down on him, weighing his feet to the floor. He wanted to see the look on his mother’s face when she saw the fruit. “Look!” he urged, stretching his arms forward, unsure what she could see in the reflection of the dark, dusty window.

She twisted her head to look at him over her shoulder. “What are those?” She narrowed her eyes. “Apples?” She pressed her lips together and rubbed the side of her head like she used to do when she came home from work. Before she got sick. “How much did they—never mind. Just go to your room, okay?”

Bellamy’s palms had begun to sweat as he placed the packets on the table near the door. Had he done something wrong? The lights flickered and then went out. “Damn it,” his mother muttered as she looked up at the ceiling. “Bellamy, now,” she commanded. Or at least, he thought it was his mother. She was facing away from him again, and her voice swirled through the darkness until it didn’t sound like her anymore.

As he slunk away, Bellamy shot a quick glance over his shoulder. His mother didn’t even look like herself. She’d turned to the side, and her stomach appeared huge and round, like she was hiding something under her shirt. He blinked and scampered off, convinced that his eyes had been playing tricks on him, ignoring the chill traveling down his spine.

“How’s she doing?

” Bellamy glanced up to see Clarke standing above him, looking uneasily from him to his sleeping sister. He nodded. “I think she’s okay.”

“Good.” She raised a slightly singed eyebrow. “Because it’d be a shame if you followed through on your threat from last night.”

“What did I say?”

“You told me that if I didn’t save your sister, you’d blow up the goddamn planet and everyone on it.”

Bellamy smiled. “Good thing it’s only a sprained ankle.” He cocked his head to the side and surveyed Clarke quizzically. The skin under her eyes was bruised with exhaustion, but the purple shadows just made them look greener. He felt a twinge of guilt for being such a jerk to her the night before. He’d pegged her as another self-absorbed Kelf thought iPhoenix girl who was training as a doctor because it gave her something to brag about at parties. But the strain in her delicate face and the blood matted in her reddish-gold hair made it clear she hadn’t stopped to rest since they’d landed.

“So,” Bellamy continued, remembering Wells’s declaration at the bonfire yesterday, and the way Clarke had stomped away from him, “why were you so mean to little Chancellor Junior?”

Clarke looked at him with a mixture of shock and indignation. For a moment, he thought she might actually hit him, but then she just shook her head. “That’s none of your business.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Bellamy pressed.

“No,” Clarke said flatly. But then her mouth twitched into a questioning smile. “Why do you care?”

“Just taking a census,” Bellamy replied. “Specifically, to determine the relationship status of all the pretty girls on Earth.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but then she turned back to Octavia and the playfulness drained from her face.

“What is it?” Bellamy looked from Clarke to his sister.

“Nothing,” Clarke said quickly. “I just wish I had some antiseptic for that cut on her face. And some of the others are going to need antibiotics.”

“So we don’t have anymedicine?” Bellamy asked, frowning in concern.

Clarke looked at him, startled. “I think the medical supplies kits were thrown out of the dropship in the crash. We’ll be fine, though,” she said quickly, the lie shooting out of her mouth before she had time to make her features match it. “We’ll be okay for a while. The human body has a remarkable ability to heal itself.…” She trailed off as her eyes settled on the bloodstains on his stolen uniform.

Bellamy grimaced as he glanced down, wondering if she was thinking about the Chancellor. Bellamy hoped he’d survived—he had enough blood on his hands already. But it probably didn’t matter one way or another. Whoever the Council sent down with the next group would most certainly be authorized to execute Bellamy on the spot, regardless of the fact that the Chancellor’s injury had been an accident. As soon as Octavia was well enough to move, she and Bellamy would be out of there. They’d hike for a few days, put some distance between themselves and the group, and eventually find somewhere to settle down. He hadn’t spent months poring over those ancient survival guides he’d discovered on B deck for nothing. He’d be ready for whatever was waiting for them in those woods. It couldn’t be worse than what was going to come hurtling down from the sky.

“How long until she’ll be able to walk on it?”

Clarke turned back to Bellamy. “It’s a pretty bad sprain, so I’d say a few days until she can walk, a week or two until it’s fully healed.”

“But possibly sooner?”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile that, for a moment, made him forget that he was marooned on a potentially toxic planet with ninety-nine juvenile delinquents. “What’s the rush?”

But before he had time to respond, someone called Clarke’s name and she was gone.

Bellamy took a deep breath. To his surprise, the simple act cleared his head, leaving him more awake and alert. It’d probably turn out to be toxic, but every time he inhaled, he sensed something unnamable but intriguing, like a mysterious girl Kter But it who wouldn’t meet your eyes but passed closely enough for you to catch a whiff of her perfume.

He took a few steps closer to the trees, anxious for a better look but unwilling to stray too far from Octavia. They didn’t look like any species he recognized, but then again, the only Earth botany book he’d been able to find had been about plants native to Africa, and he thought he’d heard Wells say they were on the East Coast of what had once been the United States.

A twig snapped next to him. Bellamy whipped around and saw a girl with a long, narrow face and stringy hair. “Can I help you?”

“Wells says everyone who’s not hurt should collect wood.”

A thread of irritation coiled around Bellamy’s stomach, and he gave the girl a tight smile. “I don’t think Wells is in any position to be giving orders, so if it’s all right with you, I’m going to worry about myself, okay?” She shifted uneasily for a moment before shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Off you go,” Bellamy said, motioning her forward with his hands. He watched her scurry off with satisfaction.

He craned his neck and stared up at the sky, his eyes drinking in nothing but emptiness in all directions. It didn’t matter where they were. Any spot on this planet was going to be infinitely better than the world they’d left behind.

For the first time in his life, he was free.

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CHAPTER 8

Glass

Glass spent the rest of the night on Luke’s couch, grateful that Camille didn’t ask why she refused to sleep in Carter’s old room. They’d decided that it was best for Glass to stay hidden in Luke’s flat until the shift change at 0600, when there would be fewer guards on patrol.

She’d tossed and turned all night. Every time she rolled over, the bracelet dug into her skin, a painful reminder that while she was in danger, Wells was hundreds of kilometers away, fighting to survive on a planet that hadn’t been able to support life for centuries. It’d always been his dream to see Earth, but not like this. Not when it might still be toxic. Not after seeing his father shot right in front of him.

As she lay staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t keep her ears from searching for sounds in the darkness. The faintest murmur from the other side of Luke’s door was enough to turn her stomach. The silence was even worse.

Just as the circadian lights began to creep under the front door, Luke’s bedroom door opened, and both he and Camille staggered out wearily. Clearly, neither of them had slept much either. Luke was already dressed in off-duty civilian clothes, but Camille wore only one of Luke’s old undershirts, the hem of which skimmed the tops of her slender thighs. Glass blushed and looked away.

“Good morning.” The formality in Luke’s voice made Glass wince. The last time Luke had said those words to her, the two of them had been in his bed, and he’d whispered them in her ear.

“Good morning,” she managed, shoving the memory out of her head.

“We need to get that bracelet off.” Luke gestured toward her wrist.

Glass nodded and rose from the couch, shifting uneasily as Camille looked back and forth between her and Luke. Finally, she crossed her arms and turned to Nhimse">< him. “Are you sure this is a good idea? What if someone sees you?”

Luke’s expression darkened. “We talked about this.” He spoke quietly, but Glass heard the note of frustration in his voice. “If we don’t help her, they’re going to killher. It’s the right thing to do.”

The right thing to do, Glass thought. That was all she meant to him anymore, a life he didn’t want on his conscience.

“Better her than you,” Camille said, her voice trembling.

Luke leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll take her back to Phoenix and then come straight home.”

Camille sighed and tossed Glass a shirt and a pair of pants. “Here,” she said. “I know it’s not up to your Phoenix standards, but you’ll look a bit more believable in this. You aren’t going to pass for a sanitation worker with that hair.” She gave Luke’s arm a squeeze and then slipped back into his bedroom, leaving Glass and Luke alone.

Glass stood holding the clothes awkwardly in her arms, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. The last time she’d seen Luke, she’d have thought nothing of changing in front of him. “Should I…” She trailed off, gesturing toward Carter’s room.

“Oh,” Luke said, reddening slightly. “No, I’ll just… I’ll be right back.” He retreated to his bedroom. Glass changed as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the whispers that escaped through the door, stinging her skin like pinpricks.

When Luke returned, Glass was dressed in a pair of loose gray pants that barely clung to her hips and a rough blue T-shirt that chafed her skin. Luke surveyed her critically. “Something’s still off,” he said. “You don’t look like a prisoner, but you definitely don’t look like a Waldenite.”

Glass began to smooth the sides of her wrinkled trousers self-consciously, wondering whether Luke preferred being with a girl who looked at home in these clothes. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s your hair. Girls don’t wear it that long here.”

“Why?” she asked, realizing with a small measure of guilt that she’d never even noticed.

Luke had turned and began rummaging through a small storage bin against the wall. “Probably because it’d be too hard to take care of. We don’t get the same water allotment on Walden that you do on Phoenix.” He turned around with a look of triumph on his face and produced an ancient-looking stained cap.

Glass gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.” She took the hat from Luke, their hands brushing, and placed it on her head.

“I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” he said, surveying her with a frown. He stepped toward her and removed the hat with one hand, and with his other, reached over her shoulder to gather her hair, gently twisting it into a knot on top of her head. “There,” he said in satisfaction, placing the cap on top.

The silence stretched between them. Slowly, Luke reached up and tucked a few stray strands behind Glass’s ear. His rough fingers lingered on her neck, and he looked into her eyes, unblinking.

“Ready?” Glass asked, breaking the spell as she stepped to the side.

“Yes. Let’s go.” Luke stepped back stiffly and led her out into the hallway.

There weren’t as many circadian lights on Walden as there were on Phoenix, so although it was technically dawn, Snic"27" the corridors were mostly dark. Glass couldn’t tell where Luke was leading her, and she clenched her hands to keep herself from reaching for his.

Finally, Luke stopped in front of the faint outline of a door. He dug into his pocket, producing something Glass couldn’t see and holding it up to the scanner. The door beeped and slid open. Glass’s insides twisted as she realized that wherever Luke took her, he’d leave a trail of log-ins and access codes. She couldn’t bear to think what would happen when the Council figured out that he’d helped an escaped criminal.

But there was no other option. After she said one last good-bye to her mother, she’d wait for the guards to find her. She wouldn’t try to see Luke again. She couldn’t ask him to risk his safety for her. Not after what she’d done.

A faint light flickered wearily to life, casting a dirty, yellowish glow over machinery Glass didn’t recognize. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice echoing strangely.

“One of the old workshops. This is where they used to repair the Earthmade equipment, before it was all replaced. I came here for some of my training.”

Glass started to ask why the guards would train here, but bit back the question. She always forgot that Luke had already started his mechanical apprenticeship when he was accepted into the engineering corps of the guards. He rarely spoke about that part of his life. Looking back, Glass was ashamed that she hadn’t tried harder to learn about Luke’s world; it was no wonder he’d turned to Camille.

Luke stood next to an enormous machine, pushing different buttons, his brow furrowed in concentration. “What is that?” Glass asked when it started to hum ominously.

“A laser cutter,” Luke said without glancing up.

Glass hugged her wrist protectively to her chest. “No way.”

Luke gave Glass a look that was equal parts amusement and irritation. “No arguing. The sooner we get that thing off of you, the better your chances of hiding.”

“Can’t we just figure out how to unlock it?”

Luke shook his head. “It has to be cut off.” When she didn’t move, he held out his hand with a sigh. “Come here, Glass,” he said, beckoning her over.

Glass’s feet locked into the floor. Although she’d spent the last six months imagining Luke calling to her, she’d never thought that a piece of deadly machinery would be involved. Luke raised an eyebrow. “Glass?”

Glass took a tentative step forward. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. Better to have Luke slice her wrist off than a medic inject poison into her vein.

Luke tapped a flat surface in the middle of the machine. “Just put your hand here.” He flipped a switch and the whole machine began to vibrate.

Glass trembled as her skin made contact with the cold metal.

“It’ll be okay,” Luke said. “I promise. Just hold still.”

Glass nodded, too afraid to speak. The humming continued and was soon accompanied by a high-pitched screech.

Luke made a few more adjustments, then came to stand next to her. “Ready?”

She swallowed nervously. “Yes.”

Luke placed his left hand over her arm, and with his right, started to move another lever toward her. To her horror, she saw that it was emitting a thin Sttient thered line of light that pulsed with dangerous energy.

She started to shake, but Luke gripped her arm tighter. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just stay still.”

The light was getting closer. Glass could feel the heat on her skin. Luke’s face tensed with concentration, his eyes fixed on Glass’s wrist as he moved the laser steadily along.

Glass closed her eyes, bracing herself for the searing pain, the screaming of her nerves as they lost contact with her hand.

“Perfect.” Luke’s voice cut through her terror. Glass looked down and saw the bracelet had been split into two neat pieces, freeing her wrist.

She sighed, her breath ragged. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her, his hand still clutching her arm.

Neither of them spoke as they slipped out of the workshop and began to wind their way back up toward the skybridge.

“What’s wrong?” Luke whispered as he guided Glass around a corner and up another flight of stairs, narrower and darker than anything on Phoenix.

“Nothing.”

In the past, Luke would’ve reached over, taken her chin in his hand, and looked her in the eye until she giggled. You’re a terrible liar, Rapunzel, he’d say, a reference to the fairytale about the girl whose hair grew a foot anytime she fibbed. But this time, Glass’s lie evaporated into the air.

“So how have you been?” she asked finally, when she couldn’t bear the weight of the silence any longer.

Luke glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you know, apart from being dumped by the girl I loved and then having my best friend executed for a bullshit infraction, I’d say not too bad.”

Glass cringed as his words landed in her chest. She’d never heard that kind of bitterness in Luke’s voice before.

“But at least I had Camille.…”

Glass nodded, but as she stole a glance at Luke’s familiar profile, shards of indignation gathered, sharp and dangerous, in her mind. What did he think she had done to be Confined? Why wasn’t he more curious or surprised? Did he think she was such a terrible person that she would have committed an infraction?

Luke stopped abruptly, causing Glass to stumble into him. “Sorry,” she muttered, scrambling to regain her balance.

“Does your mother know what happened?” Luke asked, turning to face her.

“No,” Glass said. “I mean, she knew I was Confined, but she can’t have known about the Earth mission.” The Chancellor had made it clear that the operation was top secret. Their parents wouldn’t be informed until it was certain their children had survived the journey—or until the Council was sure they’d never return.

“It’s good that you’re going to see her.”

Glass said nothing. She knew he was thinking of his own mother, who’d died when he was only twelve, which was why he’d ended up living with his then-eighteen-year-old neighbor Carter.

“Yeah,” Glass said in a shaky voice. She’d been desperate to see her mother, but even without the bracelet, it wouldn’t take the guards long to find her. What was more important? Saying good-bye? Or sparing her mother the pain of seeing her daughter being dragged away toward certain death? “We should keep Se s

They crossed the bridge in silence as Glass drank in the sight of the twinkling stars. She hadn’t realized how much she loved the view from the skybridge until she’d been locked in a tiny, windowless cell. She stole a glance at Luke, not sure whether to be hurt or relieved that he didn’t turn to look at her.