I wait a few minutes after Darius departs, then jump out of bed and head off to check on Gin. The nurse calls out to me as I go. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” I promise her as I slip through the infirmary curtain.
Out of habit, I back up around corners and check what’s ahead before turning down any path, convinced Darius might be waiting to catch me.You’re not a prisoner, I remind myself.You’re a guest here. This isn’t Lacon anymore. This is Ophir. You’re safe.But I can’t even convince myself. I don’t know this place, or these people, and in my experience, kindness without expectation of personal gain is an exceedingly rare commodity. What does Darius want from us? He must want something.
I make my way to Gin’s tent and tap on the side of the entryway. Solid wood. Certainly can’t fault their craftsmanship. This place may not be a palace, but it is sturdy.
“Yes?” she calls out. I sense trepidation in her voice. Maybe she’s afraid Darius is at the door, back to bother her while she’s alone and unguarded. Which is exactly why I went to her the moment I could. She’s nothing to me, a thief, a stranger, but right then I realize she’s the only person I know in this place. More than that, I feel protective toward her. We’ve been through a lot together in such a short time.
“It’s me.”
She peeks out, then opens the tent flap and moves aside so I can enter.
“Yeah, so…,” I begin. “How about that Darius…”
“He’s quite generous,” she remarks. “Nice of him to welcome us so readily.” Huh. I guess I read her wrong. I thought she’d feel like I do.
“A little too nice, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re strangers. He doesn’t know us from a toad on the ground. Why trust us?”
She crosses her arms across her body. “You’d rather he locked us up? You wanted to be here. You’re the one who believes all those Ophir myths.”
I slump. She’s right. I’m the one who dreamed of finding this place, of living in freedom. I should be ecstatic, but instead I’m the same thief I was in the Sleeve. Watchful, suspicious, guarded. “Well, Iamstuck in the infirmary.”
“I’m sure he’s only making sure you get the care you need.” She looks at my injury and scrunches her eyebrows with concern. “Did you have it examined? Cleaned?”
“Not yet. I came to see how you’re doing first.”
“I’m all right,” she says. “Just tired. You should get some rest, too. Heal. It’s been a rough two days. And Ver—” She stops herself from mentioning Vergel.
“It’s okay, you can say his name.”
“I’m sorry about Vergel. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“He was a street rat and a thief, his life wasn’t worth much,” I say bitterly. “Especially to House Eternal.” I know it’s all I’m going to think about when I’m inevitably alone that night, trying to sleep, and haunted by visions of Vergel being shot down by Blackcoats.
She puts a hand on my arm. “He was worthy because he was your friend.”
“And I’m sorry about Aris,” I tell her.
Gin blinks back a few tears. “He didn’t have much, but what he did, he gave me.”
“Yeah,” I cough.
“Do you really think we’re not safe here?” she asks nervously.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t know if I ever believed this place really existed. I never thought I’d actually get here.”
“Neither did I.”
“But hey, we’re free here,” I say. That’s why Lacon spends so much of their resources tracking down the Lashing. It’s the one place where their rules and their might don’t matter. Here, in the last free colony of Ophir, we aren’t slaves, we aren’t second-class citizens. But are we actually free? I have no idea.
Unexpectedly, Gin slides her arm through mine. The gesture sends a flood of warmth through me. “I’ll walk you back to the infirmary. I want to see more of our so-called home.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEENGIN
After leaving Eban, I take my time on the way back from the infirmary, meandering around the passages. The community is shutting down for the evening. People head back to their quarters after a long day; some carry woven baskets full of yarn and thread, others are toting a child on their hip and another by the hand. There’s an elderly woman with a fishing pole and another with a tray of beaded necklaces she made to sell at the market. They all regard me with a combination of suspicion and curiosity. I smile, which softens a few, who smile back. The children stare with wide eyes. I wonder how they know I don’t belong. Or if they’ve ever laid eyes on an outsider before.
