There was never a question in my mind about whether I’d bring her. Riding her will get me home and back faster, letting me have more time with my mom. But it’s more than that. It feels important that my mother meets her, this being who has become a part of me.
We head through the Northern Quarter, then onward to the Central Market, the same place I watched Stark execute that deserter.
Anassa ignores the people we pass, though I can sense her awareness of them—of their fear. They leap out the way when they see us coming, pressing themselves to the walls and yanking their children back as though afraid the wolf will devour them. Even the merchants posted at the sides of the road abandon their carts to shrink away from Anassa’s bulk.
Most of them don’t even look at me. Not that I mind—it’s actually kind of a relief. The fear and awe in the eyes of those that do leaves me queasy with discomfort.
And here I was worried what people would think seeing me in my Rawbond uniform.
We take a turn from Central toward Eastern, finally back to my own quarter.
Anassa’s massive paws leave deep prints in the muddy snow that chokes the streets where I played as a child. Where I picked fights with bigger boys after my father died at war. Where I carried loads of other people’s laundry to pay for my mother’s medicine.
The same streets where my sister walked to school and back.
Everything seems smaller and dirtier than it did before. Surreal after the weeks I’ve spent in luxury.
Much to my dismay, I feel even more out of place here than I did at the castle.
Shit. The fuckingirony.
Just two months ago, I was one of these people, cursing under my breath as Bonded riders invaded my streets. Bristling with indignation that we should all be forced to scatter because some uppity Bondeddeignedto walk by. Back then, it seemed the big wolves were willing to trample anyone who got in their way.
Now, from Anassa’s back, I see the truth.
She’s aware of every one of them, every movement, every possible point of interaction. She adjusts her stride to avoid collision, to give people the time to move away. Yet she doesn’t look directly at any one of them, knowing that even a moment of eye contact could cause a panic.
There’s no empathy in her actions, per se. But there is a sort of kindness—under the usual hard-edged lupine pragmatism, that is. These people are innocent, and they’re not a threat to her. She has no desire to frighten them.
I’m grateful for that. And a little ashamed again, too, for all the assumptions I made about the Bonded.
Yes, they’ve led privileged lives. They have all the luxuries they could ever dream of. But in exchange, they live on the constant edge of death.
In exchange, they are treated like entertainment for the king and his nobles—in more ways than one. I shudder again, thinking about the excitement in Izabel’s eyes as she talked aboutmeeting someonetonight.
And Audelie, perched on the king’s lap during the Purge with that vacant smile pasted on her face.
All along, my neighbors and I have resented the Bonded. But they’re not the enemy. In the end, they are—weare—also just toys for the king to use and then throw away. Toy soldiers, to throw against the Siphons. Toy gladiators, to fight for the rich nobles’ amusement.
Toy companions, to sleep with and discard.
The commoners shouldn’t resent the Bonded. They should resent the nobles… and the king.
The thought is disloyal. Treasonous, even. I push it out of my mind the moment it occurs, worried that if I prod it for too long, it will expand and blossom in my chest like some sort of carnivorous plant.
Our people can’t even win a war; we’d never survive a revolution.
We turn onto the street where I was born and raised. I almost don’t want to see it through my new eyes. At the same time, the familiar details draw me in.
The ramshackle houses with their rotting wood and muddy walkways. The gutted storefronts and crumbling walls of homes long abandoned. The children scuttling through the streets dressed in lovingly patched rags.
Fuck. Ithurtsto see this, knowing there’s nothing I can do to change it right now.
When this day is over, I’ll return to my clean bed and my soft sheets. I’ll have all the food I could ever want. All the warmth and comfort these people have never known.
Killian could do something about it, though, when he takes his father’s place. We’ve talked about it, these past weeks. He’d spread out the resources more evenly between the Bonded and the rest of Nocturna’s populace. He’d stop hosting lavish parties for the nobles, and force those lords who have never worked a day in their lives to stop plundering from their people.
That treasonous voice is back.Why wait for the king’s natural death, when there’s someone more fit to rule the throne?
