Tainted

Chapter Twenty-Two

"I'm sorry I'm 'useless'," I say darkly. "I suppose I've been called worse things."

Red Hair sighs heavily. His cream-colored waistcoat—still impeccable despite the travel—moves with him. "I didn't mean to call you 'useless.' I'm frustrated that no one knows where she is. I should not have taken that anger out on you."

No, you should not have, I think.

"I didn't hear an apology in there," I say aloud.

Red Hair's ears move, as if he's smiling. "I believe you should thank me first for saving your life."

I look down at my broken arm. I have it cradled against my chest. My Fate is mottled, yet distinct, as if mocking me.

"You extended my life," I mutter, "you didn't save it."

Red Hair laughs humorlessly. "You've got me there. Clearly you had everything planned out, what with escaping from the prison and hiding within a stone's throw of it, sopping wet and riddled with infection. You obviously didn't need any saving from me."

I glare at his back for a moment and turn my head to look out at the passing landscape. There is a strong possibility I would be dead right now if it wasn't for Red Hair, but I don't want to tell him that. Too many people have taken my agency from me, I don't want him to be yet one more person in that group. Besides, I hate being called "useless." It's almost as bad as being just the Thief to everyone. I want my life to mean something. After all, that's what they tell us in the legends, right? That the Great Goddess Gaia gave us these Fates so that we would know we were meant for something incredible? That we had value? I have to mean something more than just Thief. That can't be all that I am.

"So why are you called Rogue?" I ask, wiping my eyes with my free hand. My stomach's calmed down, but I'm still eager to get down from this Cenophaly. I've never been one for horse riding, and this is worse. Much worse.

"Because that's my name," Red Hair answers.

"No, that's your Fate. What's your actual name?" I look at the back of his fiery head.

"We're all called by our Fates!" Dimples pipes up from behind me. "I' was Rogue's idea. 'e founded 'aven with th' thought that we Ill-Fa'ed should take control o' our Fates. He says we should embrace 'em and call oursel'es by our Fates, bu' then act howe'er we want tae act. Tae show tha' the Fates don' mean anythin'. They're jus' words. Who we are is wha's inside, no' wri'en on th' ou'side."

I can hear the smile in Dimples's words. His positive belief in Red Hair's—Rouge's—plan makes me want to believe in it, too.

"And what is 'Haven'?" I ask.

Rogue's ears move again. He's smiling. "It's a city we're building in the middle of Gillian Fields—"

"Gillian Fields?" I exclaim. "But that's...it's said the heat is so intense the skin peels right off your bones. No one goes to Gillian Fields. The Lord of Shadows keeps his fire pets there!" I sound like a terrified child, but it's true. No one goes to Gillian Fields. The king even tried to pass a superstitious law about it, but the Shadow Worshippers fought against the law and won.

"Precisely," Rogue says. "No one goes to Gillian Fields, which is why it's the perfect location for a secret city full of Ill-Fated and their friends and family. We've been here about a year, and so far no one's skin has melted off their bones, no fire pets have come sniffing around, and no one has discovered us."

I let his words sink in. I can already feel the sun's heat blazing into my thick robe and rippling off the sand. I worry for James's paws.

"Yet," I mumble.