Page 50 of The Shadow Sanctum

“How would you know?”

Three fat lines form on Thorne’s forehead.

“How would you know what the women on the outside are like? How would I know? How would any of us who were born here know?”

His mouth opens too quickly—so quickly my spine snaps straight as though struck with a whip.

“Liberty wasn’t weak. I found her to be quite strong. Wouldn’t you agree?”

His face reddens, his own frustration growing. But then his eyes divert with guilt. As though his little crush on the banshee makes a difference.

“Think, Thorne. You believe what people have told you, and they believe what my father has told them. But have you ever for a moment stopped to wonder if he’s wrong? Or worse, if he’s lying?”

Thorne splays his palms to humor me, but skepticism dims the angry furrows in his brow.

In his defense, until lately, neither had I.

“And if he’s lying about that, what else might he be lying about? What if this… this,” I fan my hands over myself, “is normal? What if this is who I am? What if I’m acting like a woman because I am a woman?”

He scoffs and turns toward the door, head shaking. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What if our girls don’t mature faster than the girls on the outside?”

That makes him pause. But not because he’s considering what I’m saying. It’s because he doesn’t understand it.

I’m confusing him. I’m confusing myself.

I twist toward Thorne and pull my knees up, my arms drawn tight around my shins. A quick beat pulses in my fingertips, only ceasing when I dig bruises into my legs. Only for the rapid patter to travel to my temples.

I don’t know why I’m saying this.

I’ll never be able to take it back.

“The outside world prosecutes men who have sex with younger girls—even teenagers. They’ve gone so far as to dub the attraction a psychological condition. What if they’re correct, Thorne? What if it’s wrong, and we’re hurting children because Father’s told us otherwise?”

“We’re not,” Thorne growls like I’ve insulted him personally. “The outside world discriminates based on all kinds of things. We don’t. That’s why we thrive. While they’re separating their members into dependents and workers, every member of society contributes. It’s what makes us superior. You know that.”

“But how do I know?”

A curl forms in his upper lip, as if I’ve shoved a lemon into his mouth. I can’t blame him. Thorne and I are mates. We’re partners. Once upon a time, we were friends.

But we don’t do this. We’ve never done this.

“We know because Father said so,” I try to point out. "You’re practically reciting his speech.”

“Because he’s right.”

“No.” I shake my head and stand from the bed, my legs wobbly from lack of use. “He isn’t. He’s…” I pause in front of Thorne and cross my arms over my chest. It takes an embarrassingly deep inhale to force my next words.

“He’s hurting them.”

“Who?”

“The children. The—the girls. He’s selling off our baby boys and raising the girls like they’re crops to harvest.”

Thorne shuffles closer to the door. Just a step, barely culpable, but the distance is noted just the same. “What?”

“It’s true. Aiden told me himself that my father had been ordering him to retrieve the boys and deliver them to buyers.”