Lark smirked at her brother and washed down her dry cornbread with a swig from her canteen. “I wouldn’t care if she were a hideous old crone, as long as she gives us the antibiotics.”
Is that how she lured Dad into joining the army?Lark wondered.Did recruitment posters feature pictures of this god-gorgeous queen to sucker men into enlisting? He’d said it was his duty to protect his family, friends, and country, so we could all keep our freedoms. Teenaged Lark hadn’t understood what that meant. In the Reach, people had always been free to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, as long as it didn’t hurt anybody else. Did those Iron Waste hordes truly threaten their way of life? Honestly, Lark didn’t know.
“You say that now,” Leif teased. “I can’t wait to see you drool the first time you lay eyes on her.” He giggled, covering his face with his arms, when Lark threw a stick from the pile at him.
“You’re such a glitching sack of buzzard bait.” Lark stretched to her feet, brushing crumbs from her hands. “I’ll take the first watch. You two try to get some sleep.”
“I’ll go second,” Milena volunteered. “Probably can’t sleep anyway.”
“Wake me up when you’re ready to switch,” Leif said. “And, Milena, I’m sorry. We can all make a trip to Nelanta when Tommy’s well. Then we’ll see the sights.” She nodded at him with a forgiving smile.
When Lark had checked on the horses, scouted the perimeter, and relieved herself, she returned to find Milena and Leif asleep on their bedrolls near the fire. The rain tapped on the ancient tin roof—gentler than expected, a cool breath that promised relief by morning.
Lark sat near Milena, her senses alert to danger while she watched her friend sleep. Milena clutched Tommy’s cap, pain rippling across her face. Once or twice, she jolted, calling out Tommy’s name, without fully awakening.
Ever since they were children, Milena, Tommy, and Lark had been the “Three Musketeers,” one seldom seen without the others. They’d worked, played, learned, side by side as they grew, sharing everything. A memory overtook Lark—the night as young teenagers when they’d played spin the bottle. Enviably, it landed on all of them, and they hadn’t shied away from sharing kisses. When her spin landed on Milena, her friend had giggled shyly, but the kiss ignited something in Lark she’d never shaken. All three had taken turns venturing outside their trio for romantic encounters while their friendship remained solid. Only now, Milena and Tommy had been talking about marriage. Whenever Gramma brought up the subject, Lark changed it. She couldn’t fathom sharing her life with anyone else. Despite the queen’s decree that whatever consenting adults choose for themselves wasn’t anyone else’s concern, her neighbors wouldn’t understand a three-way marriage, and it pained Lark to realize it wasn’t what Tommy and Milena wanted either.
The fresh scent of the shower, mingled with the campfire’s smoke, filled Lark’s senses, the sky outside completely black. “Tommy, no!” Milena cried out, her eyes squeezed shut, his cap crushed between her fingers. Lark pulled up the cover and stroked her shoulder with a soft shushing sound.
“It’s OK, sweetie, just a bad dream. It’s going to be all right.”
In that moment, Lark knew how much she loved Milena—enough to fight to save Tommy, enough to let her go. They loved each other, just not in the same ways. Watching Milena’s restless slumber, Lark suddenly felt older. The thrill of youthful games seemed light-years behind as she sensed the responsibility for all their futures shift to her. Imagining Milena’s grief if they were unsuccessful, or too late getting back, was too much for her to bear. She stared into the night, rain hushing the world around her, heart steady with a single truth: she’d get that medicine, no matter what it cost.
Chapter nine
Breach Protocol
The next morning, they rode into a bustling city beneath Stone Mountain. Citizens streamed in from outlying homes and farms, walking or riding bicycles, horses, or motorcycles. New buildings blended with the old, their lack of ruin filling Lark with awe. Color bloomed on all sides. Hooves clomped, hammers rang, saws whirred, motorbikes rumbled—life in motion.
“It’s …” Milena breathed, spinning slowly as she took it all in. Flowers bloomed, trees shaded yards and walkways, and men and women in blue police uniforms patrolled the streets wearing smiles along with badges.
There were no towering high-rises like in books, but some buildings rose five or six stories— “The Grand Regency Hotel,” “Nelanta Textiles, Incorporated.” A large painted sign read, “See the Dinotorium. Jurassic fun for kids of all ages!” It had a painting of an odd-looking hog with a plate and three horns on its head.
Following the street whose sign read “Main,” they rode into a market area, an open-air square with carts of crafts and produce like at home, surrounded by wooden or brick-front stores inviting serious customers to come inside.
“Prunes!” shouted a bald man standing behind a cart with a red and yellow striped tent cover. “Paulie’s prunes. Doctor and Grandma approved!”
“Baskets!” called the broad woman across from him. “Get your handcrafted baskets here. Great for carrying your eggs, veggies, and sundries. I’ve even got baby carriers for your little ones. Don’t drop your babies, moms—get a basket to keep them safe.”
“Hold it there!” one called in a stern voice. A boy tried to run, but the policeman snatched his arm. “There’ll be no pickpocketing in Nelanta, young man. You give that nice lady her wallet back, and maybe I’ll let you off easy.” The lad hung his head, presenting the pilfered wallet to its surprised owner.
“Look at all the things,” Leif marveled. Sliding out of his saddle, he bounded forward to a vendor selling knives, swords, tools, and various metal items.
“Now, I’d bet a young man like you could use a fine blade, ain’t that right, sonny?” The gray-haired man grinned, displaying a missing tooth.
Lark sighed, dismounted, and handed Milena the reins. She marched beside her brother and nudged him out of the way. “Can you tell us where to find the Capitol Building?”
“Sure thing, little lady,” he offered with a hospitable smile. Pointing north, he said, “Keep goin’ past the central market about four blocks. When you get to a corner with a big, pre-war church building and a bar across the street from it—funny how these things happen—you take a left on Capitol Street and keep going. It takes you to a roundabout at the Thalen Frost Memorial. All the government buildin’s are right there. Can’t miss the Capitol. It don’t have one of them fancy domes, but it’s the biggest one, with the seal and the flag flyin’ from a tall pole. Hey, you folks must be visitors.”
“Yes, sir,” Lark replied. “Thank you kindly, and have a good day.”
“But Lark.” Leif tugged on her arm. “I’ve got time to buy a new knife.”
“Time? What about money?”
“I’ve got ten Verdancian notes, I’ll have you know, and a gold sovereign.” He jutted up his chin, defiance in his gaze. “Didn’t know that, did ya?”
Lark rolled her eyes. “Do what you want. We’re going to see the queen, get what we came for. If you aren’t ready to go on our way out, you can find your own way home.” She turned on her heel before he could reply. Sure, Lark would have enjoyed shopping in the sea of carts and stands, exploring the outfitter store, the five and dime, or the Bed Bath & Beyond. She had money too, and her grandfather’s pocket watch. Gramma had assured her it was extremely valuable, worth hundreds of Verdancian notes. She was ready to trade it all for antibiotics.
