Flock

Chapter 11

"Your mother wasn't supposed to leave The First Colony that day. I still don't know why she left when she did."

Kiliyan's fists were clenched at his side and he was glaring at Clark like he was debating whether or not to launch himself at her. I couldn't blame him. His mother was gone, and he had ended up aligned with Clark in her rebellion; a woman who had clearly betrayed him in some way. I stepped betweeen them.

"Why did you want the mayor dead?" I asked. Clark didn't look away from Kiliyan when she replied. Her voice was flat, emotionless. It was the voice of a soldier.

"Illia would have come to Javink's aid, but it wouldn't be enough. It was too soon to start the war—we needed more allies, more weapons. If she had started a war, which she would have, then our rebellion would have died before it really got to live."

"But you wanted her to start the war," I said, confused.

"Yes, I did. But at the right time. The mayor wasn't supposed to die when he did either. That was foolishness on my part—I was careless in my planning and the Kriyjia got wind of what I was up to. They got wind of what the mayor was up to, too."

Clark shook her head. Her gaze swung to me, for a moment. "You're plan B, Ollie. I misjudged Illia's devotion to Klaude. I thought his death would be a slight to Illia, one that she needed to rectify. As a leader, she would have wanted to exact thoughtful revenge. A display of her reach rather than a display of power. It would have signified the rift between the Kriyjia, would have given life to the rebellion."

"So what happened?" Kiliyan demanded. I turned to look at him and noticed his face was flushed. His cheeks were purplish, and his eyes were black pools. If there had been any question about his bloodline, it was erased at this moment. The Kriyja was shining through.

"I failed." Clark shrugged her shoulders, which only sent more blood to Kiliyan's face. His fury was palpable. I could feel him shaking behind me and adjusted my body to keep him and Clark in my sights.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Kiliyan yelled.

"What do you want me to say, Kil? Hmm?" Clark threw her hands up. "It's very simple, I planned for something to happen, and forces outside of my control led to that plan failing."

"After everything, that's the only answer you're going to give?" Kiliyan's voice was barely a whisper. "After all I've done?"

"I wish it had been different, but I don't have an answer for you—"

"That's not good enough," he snapped. He stalked past me toward Clark. She shrank only slightly, and I stuck my hand out to stop him but he batted me away. Clark's hand moved to her waist where a knife was holstered. Kiliyan wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and held it there, just out of reach of the knife. He leaned in close, his face inches from Clark's. "You need me, don't forget that."

I fingered the Kriyfem in my pocket, my nerves on fire; waiting. He let go of her hand and roughly brushed past her. He paused at the doorway, not looking back. "Don't let her use you too, Ollie."

I watched him drop his chin to his chest and squeeze his eyes shut before he slammed the door behind him. The silence in the room was thick, and I cast a sidelong glance at Clark unsure what to do.

"You showed him the letter?" Clark's voice was hard, accusing. She knew I had, the question was rhetorical but I debated on answering anyway. The light was dim and as I turned to respond the lights flickered above us. Her gaze traveled to the light above us, a frown creasing her features.

"Yes," I said, deciding I may get more information if I kept the conversation moving. I moved around the table, putting distance between the two of us as well as a table in case she decided to take her frustrations out on me. I hadn't failed to notice the way she had immediately reached for her knife when Kiliyan approached her. He had been threatening, but I hadn't thought for a second that he would do anything to hurt her. She had, though.

"You weren't supposed to take the letter from my quarters. That was my secret to bear, and I thought I could trust you with information." Clark's gaze sliced across me.

"I left in a hurry. Didn't even realize I had taken it," I said quickly. "But I'm not sorry, not really. You didn't trust me, you lied. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because of Kiliyan," she said, shaking her head. Clark sighed and pulled out one of the wooden chairs. She sat down heavily on it and put her head in her hands. I had seen her like this once. It was around the time she had disappeared. We were sitting in Bogan's kitchen.

Our tea had gone cold, and the fire was burning down in the hearth. I remember staring at the dirty green curtains, they were fluttering even though the window wasn't open. Clark had stormed in like hurricane, ushering us into the kitchen with her eyes wide and terrified.

"What do you mean they plan to close the mines?" Bogan demanded. Clark lifted her head up, her elbows on her knees. Her overalls were stained with dirt from the mines.

"They're angry, Bo. We all are—this is the second time they've lowered the age requirement in two years. Do you know what that means?" Clark stood, her hands in angry fists at her side. Her hair stuck up at all angles and her cheeks were flushed.

"I am perfectly aware of what that means."

"Don't you care? Ollie is almost old enough to be thrown in the mines. What happens then? What happens if they keep lowering it?"

"We will deal with that when the time comes. But if they organize now, then we lose everything Clark. You have to convince them not to protest. Everyone has to continue working as if nothing has changed."

"That's the problem!" she screamed. Bogan rarely got loud in anger, but his fist came down on the table with a loud thwack.

"Enough!" Bogan got to his feet and started pacing the small room.

"If they find out about her—"

"Ollie, bed."

I turned from the curtains. "I'm not tired."

"I don't care. Bed. Now."

I sulked the whole way down the short hallway and into the small closet Bogan had converted into a sleeping space for me. There wasn't a door, which I was always glad for. I hated the dark and wasn't a fan of confined spaces. I could hear Bogan and Clark arguing, their muffled voices kept me awake. They argued for what felt like hours and then the sound of a door slamming silenced the night.

A short while later, footsteps neared my sleeping area so I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. Peeking out, I could see how Bogan's shadow fell across my bed. He sighed, resting against the doorframe, watching me sleep. I kept still, not sure if he would stay there if he had known I was awake.

"Goodnight, Ollie," he whispered. He shuffled into the room across the hall and softly closed the door.

I was drowning in this world. All I wanted to do at this moment was forget what I saw here and return to Javink. I wanted to go back to my flat and return to the blissful existence of harassing Bogan. I never thought I'd miss the mines. I never thought I'd miss Bogan.