One Life

SEVEN

. . .

. . .ABOVE, THE SKY turns a shade of blue slightly lighter than that of Solara's as we peel down a barren highway. I'm hours from home. I force myself to resist falling asleep on Kane's shoulder, still afraid of falling off this old bike. I haven't shown him the map in a while. I hope he knows where we're going.

The monotony of the desert around us bores Kane enough to say something that spurs me from my exhaustion.

"I was blind before."

I perk up. I thought as much, on the first day after he came running out of the exam room. But I discarded the idea ages ago. How could he have been blind, and not be anymore?

"What?" I ask.

The wind blows my hair wild. We lost the helmet back in Solara, but it's no use anyway. I prefer the freedom of not wearing one.

Kane slows the bike down a bit when it makes a strange sputtering noise. His gloved hands squeeze the handlebars tightly. I realise for the first time that a camera is no longer tailing us.

"I haven't been able to see for five years before they took me into that exam room," he says. "One Life saved me. That's why I want to win it."

I should thank him for telling me, but I'm too caught up wondering why he would. So I ask another question instead.

"Why would they do that?"

Kane shrugs. "It was quick. They didn't explain it, other than saying it was for my benefit." He clears his throat as if talking about this physically creates a lump in his airways.

"You said you've not been able to see for four years. If you don't mind me asking, what... happened to you?"

Kane is silent for a good while, and I decide the question will go unanswered before he says:

"A Render did it."

I go rigid in my seat. My father is a Render. For days, I was hesitant of Kane because of his abilities, knowing they have harmed my family. But that wasn't fair. Everyone is capable of harm; it matters who decides to wield it.

"I'm sorry," I say, for multiple reasons.

"It's fine." He relaxes his grip on the handles. "I had a feeling you knew when I saw you in the exam room."

I nod, even though he can't see it. "Why did you tell me? I mean, why trust me with this?"

He shrugs again. "My head gets a bit foggy while I'm readjusting. I'm less coordinated than I would be back home, where I could sense my way around because of all the ice. Here, I have nothing but eyes that feel like shoes too small for me. I'm grateful, so grateful, just... adjusting. Any weakness should be out in the open, right?"

"It's not a weakness," I say sternly. "You'll adjust."

We're quiet again, the only sound being the whirring of the tires below. A part of me worries for him—if he loses, will he have to go back to having no vision?

Another hour passes with a lot of bickering over the map before the sparkling skyline of Marez appears in the distance. We swerve through more traffic than I've ever seen—I do remember Father saying Marez is the gambling spot for Onaian society. It must be past dinner by the time we're cruising down the city streets, marvelling at the crowds of extravagantly dressed and the uniquely gilded buildings and the street performers and the—