Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 11

We leave the sculptures behind, stepping onto a narrow path leading us to the furthest end of the park. Sparse trees welcome us. With bony limbs, stripped bare of their leaves for the winter. Sodden brown leaves coat the forest floor, crunching under our boots. A sickly-sweet smell clings to the air and the frost clings to the trees. We lose the path in our wake, moving deeper.

My instincts drive to the forefront of my mind as the forest becomes merely an endless plain of white and brown. Where is he taking me?

"My father is trying to drink himself to death," Ruben says suddenly.

We step over another narrow stream, crunching fallen twigs beneath us. I raise an eyebrow.

"He is afraid." His voice sounds like a molten night sky. "My father is afraid of being alone."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "How?"

"The Convex people are festering in their suffering. Any spark of hope, any brave act of defiance, such as yours, is an opportunity for them to muster their courage collectively."

"He has agreed to cover it up, though, hasn't he?" I draw in a gulp of air as we reach an open alcove of trees. The Goddess of the Day spills her canary sunlight into the clearing, glinting off the patches of old snow like a thousand stars.

"Yes. But a scared, hateful king has never fared well in the history books. With the growing tensions outside the kingdom, he will want the Tranqs to tighten things in the Convex villages."

I shake my head. "What are the growing tensions?"

His shoulders tense and he tightens his jaw. "The outsiders want our resources, Elle." He pauses, running his finger along his shirt collar. "When our ancestors began building the city walls, they chose a piece of earth with the healthiest soils. Insane levels of carbon dioxide deposits poisoned most of the planet's soil or ravished by the blight. The outsiders are starving and angry. We have been hoarding the good soil within the walls for the last 150 years."

"So, they're threatening to invade us, right?"

Ruben leans against a bare tree trunk. "He's haunted by the threats of outside the kingdom and within."

"Who are the outsiders, Ruben?" I pace back and forth in the clearing. My chest swells with anxiety, scorching and demanding my attention. "Are they the monsters?"

He flinches at my use of his name but grinds his teeth.

"Can you not tell me?" I press.

"No, Elle," he snaps, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I am not even sure who they are. I have only heard the few things my father has told me."

I cross my arms. "Fine. Then can you tell me what you mean by tightening up the Convex Sector?"

He hangs his head, refusing to meet my eye. "We will have to increase surveillance again. There will be more exiles. More demand from the farmers to provide for the Concaves, or further punishments and torture."

Panic slithers around my throat, like a snake, sinking its poison-dripping fangs into my flesh. Before he can react, I yank a knife from my belt, lurch forward, and press the blade against his throat. A string of startled curses falls from his lips. His nose flares. But as the blood slips from his face and utter terror sinks into his eyes, the fire pulses through my veins with the ferocity of the wildfires my father used to battle in his youth, during the summer.

"You're a coward," I say through gritted teeth.

"What the hell?" he seethes, shadows billowing around him. The night itself. The darkness between the stars.