The Hidden Mark

Hiding Place

They begin speaking, but I can't hear what they're saying, not with the river rushing by.

Violet's lungs fill with relief, "if we can't hear them, they can't hear us, either, as long as no one looks up."

Slowly, carefully, quietly, Violet starts to move out of the patchy moonlight to the next branch over, cloaking herself in shadows.

What is he doing out here with Imogen? Are they lovers? My breath catches a little at that internal question before moving on and pretending it never happened. Friends? It's absolutely none of my business, and yet I can't help but wonder if she is the kind of woman he goes for - one whose beauty is only outmatched by her brutality. They fucking deserve each other.

Xaden turns from the river, as though he's looking for someone, and sure enough, more riders arrive, gathering under the tree. They're all dressed in black cloaks as they shake hands. And they all have rebellion relics.

My eyes widen as I count. There are almost two dozen of them, a few third-years and a couple pf seconds, but the rest are all firsts. I know the rules. Marked ones can't gather in groups larger than three. They're committing a capital offense simply by being together. It's obviously a meeting of some sort, and I feel like a squirrel clinging to a tree as the dogs circle me from below, waiting for a slip up.

Their gathering could be completely harmless though. Maybe they're homesick, like when the cadets from the Morraine province all spend an hour after school at the nearby lake just because it reminds them of the ocean they miss so much.

Or maybe they are plotting to burn Basgiath to the ground and finish what the revolution started...

I can sit up here and ignore them, but my complacency - my fear - could get people killed if they're down there scheming. Telling is the right thing to do, but I can't even hear what they're saying.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Nausea churns in my stomach as I watch Violet make the first move. Keeping herself on the opposite side of the trunk and sticking to the shadows that wrap around her, she climbs down another branch with sloth-like speed, testing each branch with a fraction of her weight before lowering herself, completely ignoring me as I signal for her to stop and just sit still.

Fuck it. I follow right behind her, quicker, more surefooted, but in a lot more pain I can't show to anyone. Their voices are still muffled by the river, but I can hear the loudest of them, a tall, dark-haired man with pale skin, whose shoulders take up twice the space of any first-year, standing opposite Xaden's position and wearing the rank of a third-year.

"We've already lost Sutherland and Luperco," he says, but I can't make out the response.

It takes two more rungs of branches before their words are clear. My heart pounds like it's trying to escape my ribs. I'm close enough for any one of them to see if they look hard enough - well except Xaden, since his back is turned toward me.

"Like it or not, we're going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation," Imogen says.

"And if they find out we're meeting?" a first-year girl with an olive complexion asks, her eyes darting around the circle.

"We've done this for two years and they've never found out," Xaden responds, folding his arms and leaning back against the limb below my right. "They're not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell, I'll know." The threat is obvious in his tone. "Like Garrick said, we've already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don't want to lose any of you, but we will if you don't help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail."