“No, definitely not,” Rose laughs.
We continue drinking our wine, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. The sky will be one of the only things we recognize after we leave here. Neither of us have ever been further than the outskirts of Troona. Soon, we’ll be boarding a train that won’t stop until we get to Concord City.
That’s where all second-born children go when they turn twenty-one, unless their families are wealthy enough to pay the Reparations Tax. That kind of money is unimaginable for our families, but not for long.
Soon, they’ll be able to afford all the things I’ve only read about. Clean water without counting every cup. Food that never hasto be rationed. Walls thick enough they don’t feel the chill of winter, even when it snows.
“Are you still stressing about who could buy you at the Reparations Auction?” Rose asks, pouring some more wine for each of us.
“I’m trying not to stress about it too much,” I sigh, sipping my wine and letting it linger in my mouth for a moment before swallowing. “Stressing isn’t going to change anything.”
“Not many people pray these days, but I’ve been praying it’ll be a wolf shifter.” She laughs after she says it, but her fingers tighten around her cup. “They don’t scare me as much as orcs or demons, and supposedly, they treat their women well. Even the ones they buy at the Reparations Auction.”
“A wolf shifter is the dream,” I admit, nodding in agreement. “The others…” I don’t finish my sentence, I just shudder.
“Yeah,” she says, the look in her eyes saying everything I’m thinking.
At the Reparations Auction, we’ll be sold to the highest bidder. Who orwhatbids on us will be a roll of the dice. It could be a wolf shifter, a demon, an orc, or another wealthy human.
The last one is what most second-borns fear.
Wealthy men don’t have to buy wives. They can find companions, lovers, and servants without stepping anywhere near an auction block. When they buy people at the Reparations Auction, it’s because they’re looking for a slave.
As the wine in the bottle gets lower, the sun sinks farther, and our buzz gives way to slurred speech and spinning heads, the mood turns more somber. We’ve been raised to expect andaccept this fate. We understand why it has to happen. How crucial the Reparations Auction is if we want peace to last, like it has for the last two hundred years.
But when alcohol allows the veil to slip, it’s hard not to see the cruelty of it all.
“Do you think the Reparations Auction will ever end? It’s been two hundred years since The Great War. At some point, they have to forgive us… right?” I ask, swirling the wine in my cup, unsure if I want to finish it.
“No, it’ll never end. Too much greed,” Rose sighs, glancing over the ledge of the barn loft. “And considering what we did, it’s understandable that they aren’t so quick to forgive or forget.”
“Not whatwedid,” I mutter. “We had nothing to do with what happened two hundred years ago.”
“You always start talking like this when you drink, Clover,” Rose says, leaning over and nudging me. “You need to stop reading so many books about the old world. They’re just filling your head with fantasies.”
“I need something to keep me busy,” I say, deciding I’ll at least finish what’s in my cup, and downing what’s left. “We’re not allowed to go to school. Not allowed to work. We’re practically useless.”
Too much education makes us difficult. Too much work leaves calluses. They prefer us soft, bored, and obedient. Thankfully, my parents never restricted me from reading. Truthfully, they didn’t restrict me from much of anything.
“Oh, now you’re about to go on yoursecond-borns-are-uselessrant.” Rose grimaces slightly. “Don’t make me regret bringing wine.”
“No, you’ve heard it all before. I’m just preaching to the choir,” I sigh, clearing a spot and leaning back. “But hey, soon you’ll never hear my voice again. Bet you’re looking forward to that, huh?”
“Don’t say that,” she groans, shaking her head. “You’re my best friend. I love you more than my brother and sister most of the time. Plus, you’re not as boring as the others. I swear most second-borns are just born braindead, like evolution is helping them accept their fate.”
“Maybe the reality of it all just breaks something inside them,” I say, watching as the stars begin to appear in the sky after the sun sinks below the horizon.
“And we don’t break so easily,” Rose chuckles dryly. “Guess that’s why we’re such good friends.”
Dwelling on it, even while drunk, isn’t going to change anything. Some second-borns flee before their twenty-first birthday. If they’re caught, the punishment is severe. Not for them, of course. The whip leaves scars, and scars aren’t popular at the Reparations Auction. So, instead of facing the whip themselves, they have to watch their family get whipped in their place. The younger ones, especially the girls, don’t always survive the brutality.
That’s part of why I’ve never run. The whippings are always done in public. Second-borns are required to attend them. I’ve seen the scars being inflicted. I’ve watched the blood pooling at their feet while they screamed for mercy that wasn’t coming. Ican’t risk my parents and sisters suffering or dying because I’m a coward. They deserve a future, even if mine is already decided for me. Especially my sisters. They didn’t ask to be born into this ravaged world any more than I did.
“I might sleep up here tonight,” Rose says, gazing up at the stars. “I’m not sure I can walk home.”
“Yeah, ladders don’t seem like a great idea right now,” I admit, glancing at the one behind us. “Wouldn’t be the first time. As long as we eventually make it home, nobody will care.”
“My parents always get nervous and think I ran off,” Rose sighs. “Like I would ever do that to them.”
