‘It is,’ Jane says, not missing a beat. ‘You’ve changed all our lives.’
‘It felt like the least I could do,’ I say. ‘I hope it’s the start of positive change for everyone.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Jane says, as we turn down yet another pretty street, passing a school where children play. It looks like something from the past, a scene from the old films I used to watch. But it’s real. And it’s the future. My mood lifts as sun breaks through the clouds, gilding everything to brightness. It feels like a good omen.
I hope that’s the case.
* * *
I’m not as hopeful during the night tour, though, my sense of unease returning. The islands feel vulnerable, surrounded by dark sea, no guards or lights to keep predators at bay. And the streets, despite being lined by steel barricades and Raven guards, are once again empty of people, the houses unlit. It feels … deliberate. The human film crew are still following us but, as we pass deserted street after street, I wish they weren’t.
Then I glimpse a flicker of black-and-white fabric hanging from one of the windows. Andrew, with a muffled curse, steers us away before the film crew catch up. Not quickly enough for my parents, though. They saw it, I can tell by the set of my mother’s mouth, my father’s frown.
A banner with our crest, the raven in a circle, slashed by three lines. The emblem of the North Wind.
ChapterEighteen
A QUESTION OF BALANCE
‘Why are we even bothering to do this!’
‘Your project still has promise, Emelia. Do not let one thing?—’
‘One thing?It was the North Wind banner! You warned me, even when I trusted them, and now I’ve been betrayed again.’
My father’s brows lower over his golden gaze as he paces the length of the coach, his arms folded.
‘What do you want to do?’ My mother’s voice is quiet, threaded with concern. For me. Because this is my mess, and now I have to clean it up.
I feel like an idiot. Andrew cut the tour short as soon as we saw the banner, taking us back to the quayside. The film crew were taken inside, after my parents and I gave them a few quotes about how pleased we were to see the project going well. We all lie so expertly for the cameras. Afterwards, Andrew came to us.
‘This will be dealt with,’ he said, his voice hard.
‘How? This was the deal I made with you, that the North Wind ends.’ My voice shook a little, which made me even angrier. ‘I trusted you!’
‘And we will not betray that trust, or our deal. The rebellion … it took everything from me. And it isover.’ He gritted the words out. ‘We have our own methods of dealing with this. Please. Don’t take this place from us.’ His voice caught, desperation in his eyes.
We left him on the quay, returning to the coach to discuss things. And now I’m sitting on the sofa while my father paces like an angry lion, my mother frets, Varin a watchful presence in the shadows. ‘What do I want to do?’ I shake my head. ‘Go home. What’s the point? Why the hell did either of you think I could do this?’ My words curl through the room like a lash. I regret them almost immediately. My mother flinches. My father stops dead, then flashes over to me.
‘You donotgive up,’ he growls. ‘And we are not going home! You have a job to do, and you need to do it. Make your decision. You can end this settlement now, move everyone into their own Safe Zone where they can cause no more trouble. Or you clear the place out. Execute everyone.’ His lip curls. ‘Or let them stay, and work through their mistakes. What kind of ruler do you want to be?’
Not the kind of ruler who executes an entire community. I know that. But I also know something else.
It’s not going to work.
I had an idea, of a world where humans could be free to choose their path. But the banner incident aside, this whole thing feels like a joke. No different to a Safe Zone, apart from the lack of vampires. What in darkness was I thinking, putting a group of humans on undefended islands? Yes, there are Raven boats patrolling the seas, but they cannot be everywhere. I was a fool to trust the North Wind. So long as the inequality between humans and vampires exists, there can never be true peace. I need to think of something else.
‘It’s a disaster,’ I mutter, dropping onto the sofa.
‘It’s not a disaster.’ My mother sits with me, her hand covering mine. ‘It was … it’s a beautiful idea.’
‘But we all know why it won’t work. And now this. I should just shut it down.’
‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’ My father’s voice softens, and he sits on the other side of me.
I think of children playing in the sunshine. Of freshly painted houses, seedlings growing, people walking on the beach. All the hard work I’ve done. And for what? To be betrayed? I’m sick of betrayal. But I’m also sick of things being the way they are. Shutting the project down feels like admitting I can’t change anything.
‘No. Not yet. I’ll give them one more chance. But the place needs to be monitored. Any other signs of rebellion and it’s over.’ I’m exhausted, heartsore.
