Whatever threat he issued had its desired effect.
“I don’t care anymore,” she mumbles. “Let’s go.”
She turns and storms out. Her sister is hot on her heels.
I nod at Knox, signaling him to follow them.
There is something off about those two. I just can’t put my finger on it.
“Is she going to give me trouble?” I ask Warrick.
“You’ve handled worse, I’m sure,” he says. “She will come to heel. She just needs discipline.”
“I am not her father,” I say. “Discipline wasyourjob.”
Warrick doesn’t like that.
“I have friends on the Council,” he says. “I intend to put a good word in for you when it comes time to vote.”
The Council is an assembly of the eight division governors hand-selected by the Supreme Director, who, in return, pick the next Supreme Director, ensuring that the regime’s power is preserved and unchallenged.
Warrick’s message is clear. Quit complaining about the girl, and he’ll vouch for me to become our next leader.
As much as I want to tell him and his daughter to shove it, I bite my tongue. The repercussions from my father are not worth it.
“I appreciate your support,” I say with a forced smile.
He offers his hand, and I reluctantly shake it, before stepping outside.
A guard brings their belongings out a moment later. They are standard regulation-issue travel cases.
I’m surprised Warrick doesn’t watch them leave. But I do not blame him; the girls seem to be a handful. Especially, Haven.
Haven stops abruptly, arms crossed tight over her chest. Her sister lingers half a step behind her, hiding in her shadow.
Haven’s attention is fixed on the house behind her, jaw set as if she is resisting the urge to burn it down. I get it. The place is depressing, and this is coming from someone who grew up in a military institution for most of his life.
When Knox slams the trunk shut, the sound echoes, ringing with a finality that shakes the sisters. And they slip into the vehicle without a second glance.
chapter
four
Haven
It is almost time for the switch.
We need to stop before we reach Division Two so Mercy and I can change into our clothes and settle into our new roles.
Mercy will be going to Ender’s house, which is near the Forge. She will reside there until the public marriage ceremony that will occur in three months. And I will be off to the Forge to train as a soldier.
We kept our disguise for the benefit of Warrick, but now that we are far from the house, it is time to change and put our plan in motion.
We’ve passed through four different boroughs. I peek at the digital map on the console. Our vehicle is a small, green blip. We’re nine and a half hours from North Mire.
White oak trees flash across the window. They are full and bushy like a thick beard, unlike the lank and rangy vegetation of Oracle. Most of the foliage in Division Eight is sallow and blanched from the pollution.
Ender keeps glancing at Mercy and me in the rearview mirror, lips pressed thin, as if we are cargo he regrets agreeing to transport.
