Her eyes close, fingers clenching the rock in her fist.
“Holy shadows,” I breathe, both appalled and impressed by Jacqueline’s unsavory survival tactic. My shoulders convulse as I imagine the sickly sensation of being covered in gore for seven days.
Yvonne places her palm atop Demi’s. “Your aunt is a badass.”
“More like disgusting,” Aruna says with a pinched nose. “I can’t believe she disrespected the fallen like that. If any of you get any ideas about doing that to me, I swear I’ll haunt you.”
Yvonne snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if the roles were reversed.”
“Decorum doesn’t exist out here,” I say, in case Aruna hasn’t yet concluded as much herself. “We do what we can to survive, even if it’s disrespectful or foul or taboo. If I fall in battle tomorrow or the next day, I won’t begrudge any of you for doing what Jacqueline did.”
I look at Gem as I speak that last part, hoping she listens.
She shakes her head, yet whispers, “Same.”
The others echo a chorus of agreement, except for Aruna, who stands by her earlier declaration.
We chat a bit longer about Jacqueline, greedy to hear more of her tips. Demi becomes more animated as she tells us about a golden bird that appeared on Jacqueline’s third day of meandering without direction, when she was on the brink of dehydration. A glowing sparrow guided her to freshwater steam. The next morning, a luminous robin pecked her awake and led her to a cluster of grapevines. Every day, a new bird appeared, steering her towards sustenance, and eventually, home.
In hindsight, Jacqueline had suspected that these golden birds were a figment of her imagination, born from desperation, dehydration, and instinct.
But as we settle in half an hour later, using our knapsacks as pillows, I can’t help but wonder if the unlikely guardians are real. And if they are, maybe they’ll help guide us, too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Elle.”
I’m on the brink of unconsciousness when someone whispers my name. Well, my nickname. And there’s only one person who uses it.
My heavy eyes blink open to scan through the surrounding meadow. Faint moonlight illuminates Gem’s silhouette as she lies on my right, lightly snoring into her knapsack through parted lips. Beside her are our helmets, rotated so the cameras are facing away from us—we weren’t keen on being watched while we slept.
Though I don’t immediately spot my ex-husband, there’s movement in the tall grass to my left. Before I can write it off as rustling from the wind or an animal, a hand rises above the foliage to wave me over.
Ankles popping and brain throbbing in protest, I hoist myself to standing. I wait several seconds for the nausea to settle, then tread through the thicket. When I reach Gabe, he holds a single finger to his lips and gestures for me to follow. It isn’t until we’re past the tree line encircling the clearing that he finally speaks.
“Look over there.” He points to the black void deeper within theforest, but all I see are vague outlines and shadows.
“Wow,” I say with no small amount of sarcasm. “I’m so glad you woke me up so I could see this.”
“Just wait,” he says, then adds, “I didn’t wake you. You were still on your back. You roll over onto your left once you’re asleep.”
I squirm, unnerved by the casual implication that he remembers my sleeping patterns.
While I scramble for a denial or retort, a tiny orb of yellow-green light flashes a few yards away, disappearing a second later. But then a second light flashes. And a third. Dozens of orbs flicker in and out of existence, as if the stars themselves refuse to hide behind the thin haze of clouds blanketing the sky above, preferring to dance across the earth instead.
My feet carry me closer. “What are they?”
“Some type of winged insect,” Gabe replies quietly, likely to avoid scaring them off. “One landed on my arm when I was trying to settle in beneath that tree back there.”
He tilts his chin, then reaches towards the flashing orbs. When one ambles inches from his face, he jerks his hands up in an attempt to capture it. But the insect darts away. Three tries later, he ensnares one between his cupped palms. He lifts his hands to offer me a peek. A tiny black-brown insect flaps its wings, searching for an escape from the cage of Gabe’s fingers. Seconds pass, and a yellow-green glow illuminates its bottom tip before going dark.
“I think they’re creating their own biochemical reaction.” Gabe’s midnight irises glimmer as he studies the strange bug. “Similar to the bioluminescence we use back home.”
Home. He says it with such adoration.
To Gabe, Caligo has always been home. There’s no corner, cabin, or tunnel where he isn’t greeted with a warm welcome. Why wouldn’the be? Not only is he the prized eldest son of the beloved Chancellor Bren, and the presumed chancellor-to-be, but he’s also spent his entire adult life in service to the city, delivering on many of his father’s unfulfilled promises. He genuinely desires to better his constituents’ living conditions and quality of life. He’s the one who ordered the installation of bioluminescent sconces for every cabin in the upper residential levels, which had previously been limited to one sconce per hall. He also investigated growing complaints about the orange tint in the tap water that the Director of Health had turned a blind eye to. Within a week, he discovered a section of corroding pipes and had them replaced.
When Gabe succeeds his father and holds the title of chancellor, he’ll have earned it through more than just nepotism alone. He loves the city, and it loves him back.
