The world rattles in my ears, in my head. Dust billows towards me in great grey plumes, rolling and rumbling. The earth trembles, knocking me off my feet. I scramble backward with pitiful, frantic energy, trying to escape the clouds of dust. But the gritty smoke churns past me, pouring into my throat, burning my eyes. I cry out. Or, at least, I try to. But coughs and splutters tumble out instead. My hand flies to my throat with the desperate, primal urge to breathe air. Everything around me is screaming. The forest. The collapsing section of the wall. Me.
My lungs demand air.
A numbness ripples through my muscles and – and my mother's hand reaches out. "Come on, Elle. It's time to go home," she says.
My heart slows, and a strange feeling overwhelms me, pushing me towards her. A cosmic pull back to the stars. To my mother's arms. For a fleeting moment, I am okay with it. After all, I've done, it's probably time for me to lie low. But my mother brushes my red curls behind my ears and kisses my forehead. "The Stars made a mistake. It isn't your time, yet. Wake up, Elle. Live, while you can. Death is coming."
That deeply ingrained animalistic instinct for survival awakens something within me. Drive. Hope. My eyes fly open. I cry out as tiny needles spring into my retinas, drawing salty tears over my lips. The stench of stone and weeping forest coils around me as I shove my torn, rough sleeve over my mouth and scramble. Blind. I am blind. But I do not stop. My other hand flails in front of me, groping the air and the trees and the harsh, scratchy bark, guiding me through the fray.
And then a thought hits me. With so much venom that I almost keel over.
Where is he?
At long last, the thick dust begins to alleviate, and I can make out the dim silhouettes of trees. I push forward. Surely, I would have seen him, if he was walking with me, into the southern forest. My head spins. What the hell happened? Did a section of the Walls really... collapse? The Walls. The impenetrable, mighty stone Walls that have encompassed – and entrapped my people within the kingdom for 110 years.
I stumble onwards, through the gritty haze, coughing and spluttering. "Ruben!" I cry. "Ruben!"
My foot catches on the loop of a root and I curse, my arms flying out as I fall, pitiful and useless. As I bite the dust, literally, my vision blurs, coming in and out of focus and, for a moment, a figure swims into view. It's him. He is entirely unscathed. No blood. No rips in his shirt. Those eyes match the forest, dark and green and demanding. My heart thumps against my ribs. I scramble to my feet, calling his name. "Ruben?"
But his figure melts back into his surroundings and my stomach lurches into my closing throat. My eyes played a trick on me. It was just a tree.
Blood rushes past my ears and panic surges through my veins. A scream tears through the trees. Mine. He's gone. Lost. He could be dead.
But I keep moving, calling out for my friends, now, instead. "Ajax!" Nothing. "Aston!" Surely, my best friend would be nearby.
The coppery scent of blood curls through the air and a groan comes from somewhere in the murky treeline. I sob. He lays sprawled on the floor, his head bleeding on the rock next to him and into his hair, coming from a nasty gash on his forehead. My stomach drops as I crouch beside him, furiously wiping the tears out of my vision. His shirt is a torn, dirty, bloody mess and his eyes flutter before closing.
My hands fumble across his chest, and I shake his shoulder, gently. "Ruben."
He gasps and his eyes fly open. The usually bright jade, gold-flecked eyes are dull, glinting with pain as they dart around my face before settling. His brows relax. "Elle."
"Are you okay?" I ask with a whimper.
"What the hell happened?" he splutters, trying to lift his head.
"I... I don't know," I say, because that's the truth. "We need to get you to the palace."
As I reach for his shoulders, about to pull him up, I flinch, a spot of inky black flashing through the dust and trees. My chin snaps up, my eyes narrowing on the small black bird fluttering its mighty little wings as it perches on a tree branch above us, cocking its head like we are rats. A phantom wind grazes my spine, and the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
"You're hurt," Ruben says, and I startle, my heart leaping into my mouth. With an obvious effort, he reaches his hand up to my forehead.
"Looks like we both hit our heads during the – what that was," I say, pushing his hand back down. "But you are still bleeding. That's the difference."
"I'm fine." He waves his hand in dismissal.
A flame billows to life in my chest. "Don't lie to me," I snap, heat bursting into my cheeks. Shame chews into my gut. Hypocrite, whispers a tiny voice in the back of my skull.
Ruben opens his mouth to protest but then, clearly, thinks better of it, slamming his lips shut. I grit my teeth and help haul the prince to his feet, his arm slung around my shoulder. We gradually make our way back through the trees, across the criss-crossing, narrow streams, and into the southern villages of the Convex Sector.
The town is in utter chaos. Ashen-faced mothers scramble to gather their children into their homes, away from the dust. Shepherds desperately try to herd their flock of goats and pigs into stables. Shouts and screams of horror fill the air. Tranquillity – guards in heavy armour, and black-stained bronze helmets, concealing their faces, except for their eyes – hastily try to rein some control, waving their spears and calloused hands, shouting orders. But no one is listening. No one cares for them anymore. Not now that King Talin is dead. It is every man for themselves. Ruben and I push our way through the tide of Convex, weaving our way through the streets at an agonisingly slow pace. I can taste the tang of the smoke and feel the fizzle of pure terror and uncertainty.
What have we just opened ourselves up to?
If I strain my ears, for a moment, I think I can hear the screeching wail of the shadowteeth in the lake. Or perhaps it is another monster with just as little soul, ready to infiltrate our kingdom, and take what it wants, who it wants.
At long last, we leave the tightly knit buildings behind, entering the outskirts of the Convex Sector. The people of these parts all scurry hastily back to their dwellings. Doors are clacking shut, blinds are snapping closed. The emptying streets allow Ruben and me to move at a faster pace toward the drawbridge that connects the Convex Sector of the kingdom with the Concave Sector. Although the streets are not entirely empty. There is a small, aging man standing stock still in the middle of the muddy street. His skin is wrinkled, and he has a long, untamed grey beard. His equally grey eyes are pinned on the dust cloud in the Forest with an utterly impassive expression.
"Sir, you should go inside," Ruben says as we pass. The man's head gradually turns to us, but his murky grey eyes stare right through us. He says nothing.
"Come on, Ruben," I mutter, ushering him onward. "Let's go."
We finally reach the drawbridge and begin hasting our way across. The drawbridge arches over the River which pours from the waterfall at the Western Wall of the Floodgates. It cuts across the city, dividing the land in two. On the north side is the Concave Sector, with the marble and gold-flecked palace in the northernmost point, its towers reaching for the clouds. Convex Sector sits south of the river; an overcrowded cluster of villages, tight-knit buildings, cobbled streets, and starving residents plagued by the famine.
I hope to catch a carriage that could take us back to the palace. But when we arrive in the Concave Sector, it is, for once, not so different from the Convex. People scramble back to their homes, sweeping their children up as they do so. Ladies, dressed in ridiculous Concave finery, hitch up their pastel skirts and scurry to shelter, squealing in terror. They do not even notice Prince Talin in their midst. Nor do they notice me. And my name has become somewhat of a curse amongst the most stubborn Concaves.
Ruben and I are forced to make our own way to the Palace as no horseman offers to help us, no matter how desperately I try to wave them over.
At long last, the magnificent gleaming gates of the Palace come into view. When we make our way down the perfectly groomed path to the gates, a spot of green can be seen scurrying towards us.
"Ajax!"
Our friend runs up to us, cheeks flushed as he pushes strands of his dyed green hair out of his eyes. "Gods, there you two are! We've been worried sick—" He cuts himself off when he takes in the sight of us.
"He needs to get to the infirmary," I say, moving past Ajax to the gates.
Ajax nods, waving a signal to the Tranquillity patrolmen guarding the gates. With a deep, shuddering groan, the gates ease open, and we are admitted into the grounds of the palace.
"The city is in chaos, Ajax," I say as we make our way down the path to the palace doors.
"I figured so much," Ajax says, offering himself to help take Ruben inside. "Once the dust settles, I am going to broadcast a message to the people. Without King Talin, the kingdom no longer has a leader."
"Ruben's technically heir to the throne, but he doesn't want to take that position," I say, the words spilling from me as I try distracting myself from the disjointed thrum of panic and confusion back behind the gates. "Right, Ruben?"
He cannot even respond. His head bobs back and forth as he fights to remain conscious. "Ruben!"
Ajax slings Ruben's heavy body onto his back and breaks into a brisk jog through the grand palace doors and down the hallway to the infirmary. "Nurse!" Ajax bellows. "We need a nurse!"
Ajax carries Ruben into the first spare room he finds and gently lays him down on the bed. "Elle, get me a damp towel, please."
I hurry to the sink, pulling a small white towel from the cabinet. I rinse it in the sink, wring it out, and bring it to Ajax. He dabs it against Ruben's forehead, gently washing away the blood from his skin.
"Is this Talin's boy?" a voice says. I whirl around to see a middle-aged lady hovering in the doorway, with her dark hair pulled back in a tidy bun and spectacles resting before her almond eyes. She wears a white physician's frock, with an apron pinned to her chest. She strides in, gripping her briefcase, her black brows furrowing as she takes in his appearance.
"It is," I say. "His name is Ruben."
Her brow arches. "Price Ruben Talin." I am reminded I was the only one, besides my late friend Larissa, who knew his name. It was a secret. A tradition. In which a royal's name would be revealed to the kingdom upon his wedding day.
The woman steps up to him, gently nudging both Ajax and I out of the way and flipping her leather-bound case open. "I'm Doctor Loran," she says as she takes a pair of scissors and cuts Ruben's shirt away from him. When the shirt is peeled away, the wounds seem to scorch my vision. Bright. Too bright. He has deep purple bruises across his chest and blood smears his skin from several nasty cuts and grazes.
Ajax steps forward again, offering a grim smile. "I'm Ajax Rowan," he says before gesturing to me. "And this is Elle Fallon."
"Fallon?" She clicks her tongue. "Ah, Elizabeth Fallon, the one who ignited the rebellion."
"It's Elle." My mouth curls upwards, but she shifts her attention back to Ruben, stepping to the top of the bed, up to his head. I hold my breath as she gently prods around his oozing wound.
"He is going to need two stitches," she says calmly. "Although I suspect he may have a concussion, possibly, which we will have to monitor over the coming days."
"Will he be okay, though?" I ask, stepping closer.
Loran's lips purse into a tight line as she peers at me cautiously. "The boy will live. Although concussions can be serious, he might have suffered some damage if his blunt force trauma was serious enough."
My mouth goes dry, and it takes extra effort to swallow. "Damage?" I barely cough out the words.
"To his brain functionality and cognition," she says, pressing those thin lips together. "It could make him feel pretty awful."
"But –"
Loran sighs, her brows knit together in pity. "There is always a risk, Elizabeth. We will just have to see how he goes over the next few days."
--
I do not leave Ruben's side over those days. I am treated for my wounds, too. They are minor compared to Ruben's. I have a cut on my forehead and various other grazes scatter my limbs. My throat is also bothered by a nasty cough from the dust. But I am told I will recover.
In between keeping me company, Ajax busies himself helping the city. Ajax organises a more even distribution of food throughout the city, employing extra people onto the farms to produce for the increased, much-deserved demand.
Ajax asked the city to remain calm with the gap in the Walls, that he would soon organise a way to rebuild it. Although Ajax is forced to wait as the Floodgates soon become coated in layers of snow. Each day drags, gradually rolling into the next.
"You should really come and celebrate, Elle," my best friend, Aston, says. I tear my gaze from Ruben, bringing it to meet Aston's warm hazel eyes. He is dressed in the smartest clothing I have ever seen him in, black pants and a charcoal coloured button-up shirt. His bronze hair is pushed up off his forehead. He looks good. "It's the evening of the new year. You should be with your friends."
There is the distant rumble of a party in the ballroom that Ajax organised for both Concave and Convex people. Ajax's words and actions seem to have sent a reassuring calm across the city, and people are keen to celebrate the upcoming New Year of 2160.
"But –"
"And I'm sure that he would not want you to be moping around in here when you could attempt to have a good time."
I glance back at Ruben, lingering on my small hand in his large one, before I shift up to his face, taking in his parted lips.
"Alright," I say, bringing my gaze back to Aston, offering a smile. I stand and press my lips to Ruben's warm forehead, breathing in his smell. I squeeze his hand and follow my best friend out of the room.
He leads me through the echoing marble and limestone hallways, up a set of stairs, and to the room I spent my time in when I had to feign my loyalty to King Talin.
"Have a bath, Elle. Get dressed. It'll help you feel better," Aston says, pulling me into a side hug. I thank my best friend, before waving as he parts for the ballroom.
The door creaks as I push it open and the air wrenches from my lungs. I swallow the burn at the back of my throat, smelling the faint scent of my friend Larissa's perfume. My stomach clenches and I can almost see the ghost of her slim figure darting around the room, rifling through my closet. As I perch on the corner of the bed, I can almost feel her gentle fingers braid my hair and almost hear her soft voice. The only genuine friend I had in the palace during Talin's reign. And she reminded me so much of my sister Lyra. Her tidy appearance. Her gentle approach to life, despite the way the world had snatched everything from her. The king murdered both women.
Swallowing my grief, I pull the wardrobe open. I sift through the small selection of dresses and pick out a silver frock. Floral scent floods the air as I relish the feeling of the scalding bath water on my skin, allowing it to burn through my flesh, loosen up my tense muscles, and wash over my scars. Guilt creeps through my gut as I towel myself dry and step into the dress, struggling to get the zip at the back. I decide to live up to my wild nature by leaving my unruly red curls the way they are. It isn't as if Lyra or Larissa are here to protest. I open the drawer of the vanity, however, to find pallets of makeup and pencils of black kohl. Ignoring the pallets, I pick up the pencil of kohl and carefully draw a thin black line under my eye. I finish it off by coating my top lashes in black.
Everything feels wrong as my reflection stares back at me in the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. A far cry from the starving girl in the forest all those months ago. The dress stops at my knees, with a low neckline, revealing my modest chest. The silver of the dress draws out the grey in my eyes, making them prominent and piercing. Calculating.
I slip my feet into some plain black ballet flats. Drawing in a deep breath, I glance around the room, thinking of Larissa and Lyra, exhale, and step out. I haste down the corridor and pause at the entrance to the grand ballroom, hearing the music and excited voices beyond the doors. Gathering my wits, and smoothing down my wild mane, I push the doors open.
The ballroom teems with flocks of people. Concave men and women dressed in their traditional pastel hue dresses and suits, and Convex folk wearing their drab pants and tunics, dance and mingle together with one another. Musicians pluck their string instruments and beat their leather drums, the percussive thrum reverberating through my ribs. Smiles and laughter splash throughout the expansive room. The last bursts of sunlight spill through the arched windows on the right and the chandelier above flecks with slivers of fire.
Ajax pokes his head out of a throng of young Concave men. A spot of reddish-brown hair trails after him. A sheepish look on his pallid, drawn face. My lip curls at once and I stiffen as both men approach.
"Ajax..."
Killian – the man who was my friend, and the man who tried to hand me over to the king – glances at the floor, and back at me. "Um... Elle..."
"You were willing to let hundreds – thousands – of Convex people die and starve all because you didn't want to give up your own privileges." The words fling from my tongue like poisoned darts. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Ajax holds a hand up, gritting his teeth. "He's changed, Elle. Killian knows we can share our resources. He knows that liberating the oppressed doesn't take away from his privilege." He tosses a tight, intentional glare at Killian.
A slight flush fills his dark-toned cheeks. "I am trying to be better, Elle."
I hold Ajax's stare. "People don't change, Ajax. You know that."
He rolls his eyes. "Please, just... forgive him?"
My sister's bony cheeks and ribs flash across my mind. Larissa's knobbly, tremoring fingers. "Fine."
"Oh, good!" A shrill voice cuts into my eardrums, followed by a girl with black, gleaming hair. She slinks out from the crowd, wrapping her arms around Killian's waist. Her hooded eyes widen as she takes me in and lets out a shaky giggle. "Sorry, um, Elle. You're a little... scary. Brilliant but scary."
I release a knot of air in my chest and a smile creeps onto my face. "I don't want to frighten anyone. You are?"
"I am Monet," she says with a chirp, running a hand up her light brown arm as she shifts her weight. "I am Killian's..."
"She is with me," he says, shoving a grin onto his face.
The tension, the grief, clenching, and clawing at my stomach eases. I mustn't hold on to resentment. My mother always told me it is healthiest to let it go.
"I was... one of King Talin's servants, even though I am born Concave. He put me in his prison during the rebellion when he believed I supported you."
Did you? I want to ask, but I swallow the question.
Ajax offers me his hand. "Shall we dance, Elle?"
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. I dance with Aston and Ajax. There are moments where I could swear that I catch a blur of white-blond hair and piercing green eyes. But it's nothing more than phantoms belonging to my paranoia. I almost tell Ajax about how I met the person from beyond the walls. I met Ruben's brother. Ruben has a brother. The very thought sends my head spinning. That white-blond hair has stained my dreams since he fled into the shadows and wind the very night of the king's funeral pyre, flanked by his black and green-flecked little birds. I try to shake him away. But thoughts of him splash my mind. Insistent. Unwelcome. Reminding me how I haven't been truthful to Ruben. It's been over two weeks since the king's death and I haven't mustered the courage to tell him about his father, or the sudden existence of his half-brother. How will I tell him now?
The movement and music loosen my muscles, and I find myself relaxing. When it nears midnight, the party moves from the ballroom to the courtyard outside, where we mark the shift from the year 2159 to 2160 by raising our goblets to the gods. I find myself perched at a table with Aston after the chaos of midnight, sipping champagne.
"Have you had a good time tonight, Elle?" he asks.
"I have." I smile, although it fades as my eyes land on a scar peeking through the collar of his shirt. My throat closes.
"Glad to hear it, --"
Aston's voice trails off as a figure comes scurrying through the ballroom, bursting into the courtyard, yelling my name. Doctor Loran.
"Elle!" She calls to the crowd before her. "Where is Elle Fallon?"
I rise to my feet and move forward. The crowd parts knowingly and I hoist myself up onto the marble bowl of the garden fountain. "I'm here! What is it?"
She lowers her voice, peering at me through her glasses. "The boy is awake."
Ruben. Suddenly all I can see are those green eyes. He is all that matters, all that could ever matter. I break into a run, hastening across the stand, down the steps, and into the palace. Loran struggles to keep up with me.
"Elle!" she calls, but I do not even pay her a glance. "Elle! Please wait up. I have something to tell you."
Still, I ignore her.
"Elizabeth!"
That does it. I pull up short and whirl around. "I am Elle."
"I'm sorry, Miss Fallon, but I really need you to listen to me. It's about Ruben, obviously."
"Go on then."
"In his delirium, he spoke one word over and over." She pauses, her brows pinching together. "Your name."
Without responding, I turn on my heel and bolt down the hallway, past the ballroom, to the infirmary. I break through the door, slowing as I see him. He sits up, leaning against the back of the bed, entranced in an unnerving silence, his eyes glazed over, as a nurse dabs at the sweat coating his forehead with a cloth. His head swivels to the side when I come in, regarding me.
"Elle," he murmurs. The nurse takes the cloth away from him and shuffles out of the room, allowing us time together.
"Ruben." I sit in the wooden seat at his bedside and take his hand in my own. It is deathly cold. I squeeze it gently, hoping to knead the warmth back into it. "How are you feeling?"
"You look beautiful in that dress, Elle," Ruben says instead, ignoring my question.
"I would say you look good, too," I smile and gesture at him. "But I would be lying."
Ruben tosses a smirk at me, and I can't help but grin back. He's alive. Despite everything we have been through, he is here. He is like nobody else in the world. When I am with him, half of me burns fiercely, desperate to touch him. The other half is calm, utterly content, and secure, knowing that he is mine, and I am his. He ran his fingers over the dents and cracks of my past. He has seen me split open. Raw and vulnerable. My ugly, bleeding insides. Yet he did not run, he stayed. In my chaos of uncertainties, pain, and large defeats, he is the only thing that has truly felt right.
--
I peer out the window at the gaping hole in our Walls at the Southern Forest. King Talin was wrong. He told us that the Walls protected us from the monsters and insanity beyond, but all it did was keep us all in one place. The door to our cage is open and a huge part of me is compelled to explore what lies beyond the walls.
"What do you think, Elle?"
I am jerked from my thoughts, gaze snapping forward to Ajax, who sits opposite me at the round table. The pungent aroma of coffee curls past my nose as Aston, Killian, and Ruben stare at me. "Hm?"
Ajax rolls his eyes, tapping on the table impatiently. "Have you been listening to a word at all?"
I give him a guilty smile.
"Elle, this is important," he scolds. To his right, Killian sniggers and he shoots him a look. I catch Ruben doing his best to hide his smirk and I glare at him as well.
"It was something about democracy," I tell Ajax.
He rolls his eyes once again. "That's right. We are trying to decide whether democracy could work in this city. Our ancestors could do it, so perhaps we can too."
"I still think that you could be a good leader, Elle," Aston says, smiling encouragingly.
I cringe, wishing to shrivel up into a ball. "Might I remind you I am the reason so many people died? The reason you have scars on your back."
That shuts him up.
"They would vote for you, Ajax," I say quickly, filling the fizzling silence. "The things you have done for them over the past few weeks have been invaluable."
He bites his lip warily. "For the Convex, maybe. But the Concaves might not be so easily persuaded. If I become president, my plans for the kingdom include abolishing the sectors."
"I had predicted so much," I mutter, bringing my glass of water to my lips.
"I just want the Floodgates to be a society of equality and equity, of love and humanity," Ajax tells us, buttering his toast with that casual, composed allure that only he could master. "I don't want to continue the tyranny that Talin left in his wake."
"That is why you would be such a good leader for the kingdom, Ajax," I say.
He smiles, suddenly shy, his cheeks filling with pink. "Thanks, Elle."
"She's right, Ajax," Ruben says from my side. "You should really propose the idea to the city and offer yourself as the leader. Give them the opportunity to vote."
I tear a pastry open, watching the tendrils of steam stretch toward the coffered ceiling. "Um. So, do you guys have any confirmation of who destroyed the segment of the walls?" My stomach tightens and the pastry suddenly smells too sweet. Sickly.
Ajax's steely blue eyes flick at me, narrowing. "Do you know something?"
"No." The word spills out too quickly and my face burns. I clear my throat. "But it must be the people from beyond the walls that King Talin tried to prepare us for?"
My gaze flicks to Aston and our days of training together, for the phantom enemy, flash across my mind. What a lifetime ago.
Aston seems to sense my thoughts or remembers the same thing and his mouth quirks up. "We'll be ready. The Tranqs knew what they were doing, after all."
Killian nurses his mug of coffee. "King Talin knew there was someone we had to prepare ourselves for. It must have been them. Perhaps they found out about the king's death and wanted to frighten us? Remind us they are close by and inching closer?"
I shoot him a side-eye glare. "Look, I'd be happy to help organise the army again so we can defend ourselves. But we should confirm who, in fact, this person is." My insides slosh back and forth as that white-blond hair prowls through my mind like a lonely white wolf. I feel Ruben's jade gaze on me, and I can't even look at him.
It must have been him. He must have wanted to frighten us and for that, he'd better hope he doesn't make the same petty mistake. Bastard.