Breeder (The Ephemeral: Book 1)

Chapter 4

Swearing on the existence of such things was sacred to a child. 

Still, he gazed at me and promised.

The scene faded to panels of gray, capturing the montage of nights I cried with crumpled letters in my fists, longing for his miraculous return.

He'd gone to war when I was ten.  And while his badge of honor and belongings had made it home, Tom hadn't. He'd left me on my own.

I dropped the knife, shaking out my hand and the sting of recollection.

With the exception of my mother, Tom was the only person who'd truly understood me, and like everything I allowed myself to approach, to love, both of them disappeared into the unknown and unreachable. They'd withered to nothing more than dying memories and fading imprints. Even my father had died back then, in a sense.

The door to the barn creaked open, and the graying man cautiously slid inside —the way someone might approach a rabid dog.

"Hey, kiddo."

I turned away from him.  Sure, it was childish, but I really didn't want to see his face right now.  He'd yet to grasp the concept that a teenage girl needed her space, and it made it very difficult to like him sometimes.  I loved him, ineffably, but liking someone was hard enough for me as it was, even without the other person ordering me around.

He sat on the hay bale beside me and took a few moments to prepare his speech.  "Listen, Al. I only want what's best for you.  I want you to be well-off, happy, so you don't have to worry about supporting your family for the rest of your life."

Like I do, was left unsaid.

"Ever since your mother died...it's been hard. We used to talk about your future in the event that you lost one of us, and I promised her I'd provide you with everything you needed to succeed in this world." He swallowed his pain. "To live a better life than we did."

I stared at the wall, refusing him eye contact.

My mother never would have backed him on this. As the only child of a widowed law professor, she'd sharpened her mind and trained her tongue before she'd ever stepped foot in a classroom. Her intelligence had intimidated her elders, and her sociability had attracted every young man in Belgate, resulting in the rejection of a dozen marriage contracts before my father finally won her over. Top of the Institute, she could have done anything, been anyone, but she married a rancher instead, determined to escape the claws of the city. She'd even fought the procreation laws, insistent on raising a single child, choosing to never raise a girl in a world as cruel as this one.

Of course, seven years after my brother was born, the Council came knocking, and they threatened to take away the ranch if she didn't comply with the statute.

She'd had no choice but to give them what they wanted.

Another child.

Another soldier.

My father cleared his throat, treading water.  "The way women are treated...you know I disagree with it.  You know I want more for you.  Patrons, if it were up to me, you'd be the chairman of the High Court!  But this is the way it is. The way it's always been. Sometimes we just have to accept things we don't like, and it's  a bitter pill to swallow."

"But I can't accept it," I said, closing my eyes. "That's not who I am. Washing dishes and folding some weed's laundry isn't me.  It never will be."

"You know very well that isn't what I expect of you.  You're your mother's child, after all." He shifted, trying to get me to turn around.  "You can take over the ranch when I'm gone. Or graduate from the Institute and become a nurse.  You can start a family."

He just didn't get it.  I didn't want to be a housewife.  A caretaker.  A mother.  That future—it was like a script the world had given me, telling me when to speak and how to behave.  It outlined the plot of my life, end scene included. 

"I realize it's not what you want right now.  Settling down, starting a career.  But you don't have a lot of options, Al.  Not with your...illness." I felt his gaze on my bare hand. "It's dangerous to put yourself out there in the world."

"I do have options.  You just don't like them."

He sighed, deciding to forfeit a battle he'd never win.  "Do you still want to go to the Tournament tomorrow?  I was thinking we could get there early, snag a good seat.  Then we could go to the festival after.  It'll be a day off."

I spun to face him.  His eyes were pleading and hopeful, and it hurt to see him like that.  To know I would never make him happy.  Never make him proud.

"Dad," I began, gentler than before. "I don't want to watch the people in the Tournament.  I want to be on the other side of the stands. And that's never going to change."

The edge of his mouth lifted in a sad, defeated sort of way.  He patted my knee and walked out of the barn, leaving me there with Richard and the echo of my own confession. 

"I didn't ask to feel this way, you know," I told my hairy companion, and those curious round eyes blinked up at me.  "To want what I want."

I'd always dreamed of following in Tom's footsteps and ending the war that tore our family apart.  I'd always known the military would grant me freedom from Belgate and my societal obligations.  It was forbidden fruit, and I had a sweet tooth. 

But there was more to it.

Inside me was an inexplicable passion to fight, to prompt change. To do something more in spite of the written laws of our Patrons.  

I was a caged animal piteously clawing at the back of the lock, clawing at smoke, and despite the absurdity and futility of my efforts, I just couldn't help myself.  I had one shot to live this sliver of a life, and I wasn't about to waste it in shackles.