Something's got Elyse shaken, and I can't figure out what. She's tense and alert as we thread through alleyways. Every time we round a corner, she looks over her shoulder cautiously, watching for something . . . or someone.
Kamal walks a few paces ahead. I'm surprised Elyse doesn't call for him to stay closer.
I'm taking a breath when she says to me quietly, "Are you okay?"
My teeth grit in frustration. I want so badly to tell her, No, I am not okay, because Leola knows the truth about me and I really, really don't want you to find out, and also I'm pretty sure Death came to me and I think he might want my soul.
But I don't say that. I can't say that. So instead, I say truthfully, "I was about to ask you the same thing."
She doesn't respond; just looks ahead and watches Kamal.
The silence between us puckers when I move a few steps closer to her. I glance up at her. "Are you okay?" My voice is hushed. It almost sounds shy.
She shoves her hands into her deep pockets and sighs. "I think Peter recognized me," she says weakly. "But I don't . . . I don't know for sure."
I let her soak in her thoughts for a moment longer before I respond. "Well, I don't know what that would mean for you—I mean, if he did recognize you—but I do know that no matter what happens, you'll be okay. Seems like you always are."
Her eyes drop to the ground and she shakes her head humbly.
I elbow her gently. "Don't deny it! You literally climbed onto the mast mid-flight—not to mention it was during a blizzard." To my pleasure, this brings a small smile to her surface. She lifts a shoulder. I keep going. "I've only known you for, like, a day, and I can already see that you're amazing. You're like a superhero. You are. You're amazing."
Now she laughs. Her cheeks are pink, and I can't tell whether it's because of the cold, or because of me.
"Stop it, Ben," she teases, giving me a playful shove. As I stumble back into place beside her, I let myself laugh, too. It seems Fake Ben has started to become a part of Real Ben . . . or Fake Ben is just slowly disappearing. I can't tell which.
Within seconds the silence returns, draping over the three of us in something more serious.
I realize that this must be about Leola. Without looking at Elyse, I say, "We'll find her."
She nods. "I know we will." With a swallow, she adds, "But it's not just that." Her gaze moves to Kamal.
I'm glad I'm not the only one that's noticed Kamal's sudden change in attitude. I mean, I understand where it's coming from—one of his best friends has disappeared into the depths of Parlem City. That's a good reason to have a bad attitude. But it actually scared me when he came at me. Unlike Leola, he's been kind to me from the start. Now he's just angry.
My mind drifts back to what Leola told me before she left me in that alley.
Elyse would never leave you here.
All the things I want to say remain lodged in my throat, blocking my breath. A long moment passes before one of my questions rips its way out of me.
"You're not going to leave me here, are you?" I ask. My voice is more timid than I'd like it to be.
She frowns and glances at me. "What?"
I blink. "That was the deal. If I'm a nuisance, you leave me here."
"No, I'm not leaving you in this forsaken place," she practically scoffs. She meets my eyes for a long, never-ending moment. "You're not a nuisance, Ben. You kept me from dying out there."
My stomach twists into itself at her words. I don't know what I'm going to do. Leola was right: Elyse won't leave me here. But Leola will. She said it herself. If we find her, I don't know what she'll do. I don't know what she'll say; I don't know if she'll call me out and beat me again. I can't know for sure—I just have a feeling it's going to be bad.
Even though there's no need for me to say anything more, I hesitate. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
She shrugs. "Depends on how personal it is." There's a small smile in her voice, which lets me loosen a bit.
"It's pretty personal." I take a breath. "But the level of personal-ness depends on your answer, too."
She sways from side to side as we walk. I watch her eyes as she says, "Alright, go ahead. But only if I get to ask you a personal question, too."
A grin spreads through my expression. "Well, Kamal told me you grew up in Culmes."
Elyse nods. "Yeah, I did."
"He also told me how you three met."
Now her movements tighten. She pulls in a breath and holds it before glancing my way. "Did he, now?"
My courage shies away from me in the next moment, so I have to go digging for it in order to ask my question. It takes a little too long for my own comfort. The silence between us stretches wider with every passing second until finally I find my words. "Did you . . . were you ever with Rose?"
I need to watch her for a reaction, because I want to know if she'd lie to me. But for whatever reason, I cannot seem to make myself look at her. My eyes remain glued to the declining cobblestone path that leads us down the valley. Out of my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of her face going redder.
But her hesitation doesn't last as long as I was expecting. "Why do you ask?" She sounds torn between being accusatory of me and feeling self-conscious.
My next words come quick and panicked. "I—I didn't mean anything. I just—Kamal told me that when he met you, you were running, and I just thought . . . I don't know. I grew up in Culmes, too, so, you know, and I always heard about the Red Rose."
"Does it matter to you? Whether or not I was?"
I shake my head in urgency. "No. No! I just was wondering—"
"It looks like you already know the answer, Ben," she says, but it's not irritated or accusatory. She just puts it out there, plain and simple.
"And, also," she adds, "I was never with her. I wasn't hers. I just happened to be there for her to use."
A solemn hush passes through the moment. I nod. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, keeping my head down.
The wind keeps our thoughts separate from each other as we walk. Every once in a while, the sun hits our backs and warms my cold neck, but not by much. Kamal looks back at us, eyeing Elyse, and she just gives him a nod.
"The first time I came here," she says, pulling her hood over her head, "it was because Rose sent me. She told me, If you don't kill your little priest's wife, I'll have you pinned to my wall by needles through your hands for the next week."
It takes everything in me not to let my jaw drop to the floor. I knew Rose was cruel, but not that cruel. Although I've seen some of the things she does to her victims, I've never even heard her mention anything like that.
"So I did it. I murdered Peter's wife. It was my first kill mission. I was eight." She pauses, and it takes everything in me not to look her in the eyes as she speaks. "You have no idea how . . . how awful it is to have to put a knife through someone's heart in cold blood." She shakes her head and swallows hard. "I was driven by the complete, unmatchable fear that Rose instilled in me every single day."
"Which is why she ran," Kamal says without looking back at us. "It's why we met."
I suck in a long, contemplative breath. I had a feeling Elyse was scarred, but I had no idea. And although I've spent the past four years working for Rose, I couldn't even fathom a life like that. "I—I'm sorry," I say once more. "That's terrible."
She glances at me, but only for a moment. "It's fine. It's in the past. What matters now is the present, and that includes the only family I have left: Kamal and Leola."
I try not to read too much into the fact that she doesn't include me. You haven't even known these people for twenty-four hours, I tell myself. Don't get your hopes up.
"My turn to ask you a question," she says, lifting her tone to try and make it less tense. It doesn't exactly work.
I wait for her to speak, and hope dearly that she won't ask me the same thing I asked her. Because I don't know if I have the courage to tell her the truth.
She opens her mouth, and just as her voice begins to hit the air, something slams into my side and a palm shoves down on my forehead. Before I can process anything that's happening, my head bangs on the ground and things go fuzzy.
There are distant shouts. I keep blinking in an attempt to regain my sight, and once it finally returns and I'm blinded by the white sky above me, I realize someone has me pinned to the ground.
I squint, trying to see who the person is, but I can't tell. There are distant shouts. I struggle against the person's grasp as they viciously pull at the pockets to my jacket. My head lolls side to side uselessly. My body feels like it weighs a million pounds—I can't move. I can't fight back.
The pale sky returns to its place far above me when the figure is yanked off me. Voices cut through the air in vicious slices. Through my recollection of reality that's slowly returning, I see Elyse as a blur of movement.
Someone's hands pull me up into a sitting position. With a few blinks, the dizziness begins to subside and I can see both Elyse and Kamal on either side of me.
"Did I just get mugged?" I groan, touching the back of my head. Thankfully there's no blood, but I'm definitely bruised.
"Yeah, you did," Elyse says through a stifled laugh. She's crouched down beside me. "They go after the most vulnerable," she tells me. "But I don't think I've ever seen someone get mugged in a group."
"Are you saying I look useless and vulnerable?" I ask jokingly, even though I'm actually surprised by this comment. "I didn't think it was that obvious. It's too bad for them, anyways, because I have nothing of value on my person. As they might have discovered."
Kamal stands and crosses his arms, clearly uninterested in my current sense of humor.
To my pleasure, though, Elyse smiles. "Well, that's why we stay in a group." She lifts a hand and holds it out to me, offering to help me up. "You good?"
I draw in a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll be fine." I dust myself off and readjust my jacket before taking her hand. Together, we stand, and with her cold fingers in mine, I feel an unwarranted, insatiable need to not let go. I take a chance and glance up to her, scanning her expression to see if she feels it, too. But I can't see past the wall she's put between us. In fact, the only thing I can see is Kamal's stare as he waits for us to let go of each other.
She's the one to pull her hand out of mine. My heart sinks into a pocket of disappointment.
"Let's get moving," Kamal says, turning on his heel and waving us along. He doesn't walk this far ahead this time—now he lingers in a place slightly between me and Elyse.
"Well," I sigh, doing my best to mask my discomfort, "you guys know Leola best. Where would she be?"
Elyse shakes her head. "I don't know the layout of the town very well, but chances are she'll do one of three things. She'd either travel in the dark, like these alleyways; she'd travel in the light, maybe on one of the main roads; or she'd look for high ground."
"That sure narrows things down," I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. I sense Kamal giving off some sort of disapproval of my attitude. Since he doesn't seem like the kind of person to displease right now, I try to change my tone. "Sorry. I, uh, tease around when I'm nervous."
He doesn't take the time to look back at me when he says in all seriousness, "Why would you be nervous, Ben?"
His words send jolts of uncertainty crackling down my spine. I shrug. "I mean, I did just get mugged." Again, judging by the absence of his reaction, this is the wrong kind of humor. "And—you know, we're trying to find Leola. I'm just stressed out."
Even from a few steps behind him, I see his jaw tick in what can only be irritation.
Maybe it's stupid to assume apologizing would be the best option here. But I don't know what else to do. And, frankly, I really need Kamal on my side right now. Especially if we're looking for the one person here that knows I'm with Rose.
If Leola didn't accept the fact that Rose is a part of my life, I don't know if either Kamal or Elyse will.
"Kamal," I say carefully, making sure to choose my words wisely. "I'm getting strong vibes of hostility"—he tenses slightly, as if he's ready to fight—"so I just want to say that I don't mean any harm. I'm just a useless dummy along for the ride, and I get that I'm just a disruption in your life right now. But trust me when I say all I want to do is help."
My chest is pulled taut with anxiety. He doesn't say anything—just keeps on walking.
"I'm sorry," I say solemnly. "Really, I am. I see how close you three are, and I would hate to barge in on that." With a long, uneasy exhale, I shake my head. "What I'm trying to say is this: I don't want any trouble."
Now he's quick to snap, "Seems like all you've caused is trouble."
Elyse pulls softly on his arm, to which he turns around and glares at the ground. I'm just glad it's not directed at me.
"I think it's safe to say Ben is a friend," she tells him. "We can trust him."
The moment her words hit the air, the chasm cut deep within me rumbles in disturbance.
We can trust him.
I don't know what to think. That's all I've needed her to say this entire time. She trusts me.
She must sense my astonishment, because her gaze locks with mine and she says quietly, "And you can trust us, Ben. You can."
A warm, comforting feeling blossoms its way through my chest. It almost drowns out the distant echoes of all my past wrongdoings that ache to erupt from my chasm.
I don't hear what she tells to Kamal next. All I can hear is my own indisputable excitement and euphoria. Because I honestly don't think I've ever had this with another person—trust. All my life, I couldn't believe a thing anyone told me. The only person I came to trust was Rose, and that was only a one-way street.
Maybe this time is different. Maybe with Elyse, it's a two-way street. Maybe we can meet each other in the middle; maybe I can trust her. Maybe I can. I want to.
"Alright, let's go," she says, gesturing for Kamal to lead the way.
The quiet that falls between us once more is still uncomfortable, but even though I didn't hear a thing Elyse said to him, I think she helped.
So as we continue making our way through Parlem City, I catch her eye. Then I mouth to her, Thank you.
We decide to leave Leola a note.
We leave it pinned to the door of Slurpers! On the front, it only has a shortened version of her name in big bold letters, and on the other side, it says, Meet at the heart by three o'clock. Below that, we wrote, Meet at Airlock at five.
"That should do it," Elyse breathes as we leave the little igloo building. "Now we have at least two designated times for her to find us."
"If she finds the note," Kamal corrects.
She just shrugs. "She will. If we thought to come here, surely she will, too."
We make our way to what we referred to as the heart—the heart of town. According to Elyse, it's a circular town square located halfway up the valley. It's the one area in the city where the three main roads converge into one place.
It takes us about twenty minutes to get there. While the sun continues to pull higher into the sky, it doesn't seem to get any warmer. The wind doesn't let up, either, which means it's an uphill battle until we get there.
Finally the circular area comes into view. It's bigger than I thought it'd be.
"Who's that?" I ask, gesturing to the large stone statue of a woman that stands firm in the center. She strikes a dramatically heroic pose with her foot up on a rock and her hands on her hips. She's got aviator goggles pulled up on her forehead and a long jacket that flows in the supposed wind of her world.
Kamal seems to have retained some of his peaceful composure when he says, "It's the founder of Parlem City. She built this place from the ground up." To my relief, his tone has returned to its normal state of easiness.
As we round the statue, looking for a comfortable place to sit and wait, I stare up at the statue, feeling an uneasy amount of recognition tied to the woman that towers over us.
I take a moment to read the sign when we reach it. "The Flower of the Sky: Daisy Rowen," I read aloud. A frown rises to my surface as I read the description. "Out of war-ravaged lands, one woman rose above all else. She took to the skies, and years later, returned with what would go on to save what was left of the world. She returned with hope."
We all stand and stare in what can only be collective confusion.
Just to be sure, I take another glance up to the statue and examine the woman's stone features. Her hair is long and straight, her nose long and pointed.
It's the expression that throws me. The excited determination in her smile and the hopeful gleam in her eye.
"Is it just me," I say slowly, turning back to Kamal and Elyse, "or does this lady look a lot like Rose?"
Elyse's expression tilts. I watch her closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of her thoughts.
"It's not," Kamal says, shaking his head. "Rose didn't found Parlem City. Maybe that's . . . I don't know, her mom, or something?"
"But you see it, too, don't you?" I press, looking back and forth between the two of them until finally my gaze sticks to Elyse's. My voice is a pitiful kind of hopeful when I prompt, "Don't you?"
She looks torn. Her eyes flick up to the statue again, but only for a brief moment. "I mean, a little."
But her voice falters. And in her uneasy gaze, something glints in the sunlight. I think she's lying. At least a little bit.
Honestly, if I had to live under Rose for so long—if she made me kill someone when I was eight—I wouldn't want to accept it, either. So I don't blame her for lying. Because I get the feeling she's lying to herself, too.
That woman looks like Rose.
But she isn't. She's Daisy Rowen. The one who saved the world with the unknown hope of the sky.
I have to tell myself to let it go. It doesn't matter, anyways.
We find a four-person bench across from the valley, in a spot where the wind can't find us and where we can look down upon the valley that stretches far between the mountains.
The building behind us shelters us from the wind but lets the sun shine down on us through a layer of clouds. It's a nice spot. I would have liked to sit beside Elyse, but Kamal was quick to separate us. So it looks like he's still got some beef with me. I just hope it's not enough to carry him back to Leola's side of things.
We don't make much conversation as we wait. The hours are long—they drag by with the speed of a tired turtle, which is the opposite of what I'd like. I'm sick of being constantly cold; at this point I just want to find Leola and get out of here.
By the time noon rolls around, we're all starving.
"We could grab lunch, couldn't we?" I suggest, nodding to the many shops and restaurants that surround us in the town square. "It's not like she's going to pass through here while we're inside."
With a sigh, Elyse shakes her head. "We can't risk it. We'll eat after we've found her."
And so the wait continues.
We play games to pass the time—games that don't require us to really move or exert too much energy. But we quickly run out of word games to play or things to talk about.
So after another hour of nothing, I lean forward, around Kamal, and look at Elyse. "How about a story?" I prompt with a smile.
Surprisingly, she grins too, like she knows exactly what story she'll tell. "Alright, fine. I have a story."
I lean back and tuck my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs to try and keep warm. She repositions herself, too, before starting.
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was six years old, and her grandmother was very old. Her name was Elyse." I can hear the small smile in her voice as she speaks. "See, the thing about Elyse was that she was very curious. She wanted to know about everything and everyone. Like when she and her grandma would go on walks through the forest, she would have endless questions. What's that animal, Grandma? Why is it so pretty? Grandma, why is the sky blue? What are clouds made of?
"One day, when her grandmother went out to tend to the garden, Elyse found a bird in the grass. It was barely moving, but it was alive. Out of curiosity, she picked the little thing up and cupped it in her little hands and said in a little voice, 'Don't cry, little bird, it's okay.' She brought the bird to her grandma, and through some inspection, they discovered the bird's wing was broken.
"It was Elyse's job for the next three weeks to nurse the bird back to health," she says in a long breath. "She named it Tweets. When it was time to let it go back into the wild, they took it to the woods. Before they let Tweets fly away, Elyse asked, 'What do you think she'll do?' And her grandmother told her, 'Whatever it wants to. That little bird is free now.'" She lets her eyes close for a long moment. "The end."
The three of us sit shivering in combined silence for a few minutes. It's a cute story, don't get me wrong, but I can't help but want more.
I'm about to ask for another when Elyse pipes up, saying, "Kamal, you should tell about the time we got lost in the marketplace in Norin. Remember, we got split up and basically followed each other for three hours straight?"
And so the storytelling commences. Kamal tells about the towering, pin-straight skyscrapers of Norin, and how the three of them spent an entire day unknowingly chasing each other around the city. I tell about the time my Ma embarrassed me at a local shop when she tried to get me hired there. We trade stories back and forth, exchanging thoughts and worlds from our respective places. Even though it's not what I had in mind, I actually end up enjoying myself. Especially now that Kamal has come back to his regular self, I feel I can loosen up. I find myself bursting out with laughter when Elyse tells us about the time she pretended to break her leg. And although I don't feel like Fake Ben anymore, I don't even feel like Normal Ben. It's as if I'm . . . lighter. It's as though the chasm within me has shrunken away. It's fallen down into the depths of itself, shadowed by the current blissfulness of the moment. Suddenly everything doesn't feel so heavy. It's like I can breathe again.
But it seems as soon as I make this euphoric realization, something splinters into the place between the softness of my heart and the protection of my ribs. In the middle of Kamal's story about his home country, I gasp and bend forward in pain. A wince pulls at my eyes as a too-familiar voice finds its way inside of my head.
What do you think you're doing? Rose hisses at me. Her words cut into my very bones. My hands curl into fists. Kamal keeps talking about the cinnamon bread his mom always made, but I can't listen. I can only hear her; I can only feel her inside me.
What did I tell you, Ben? she snarls. This is not about you.
I can only pinch my eyes shut and shake within myself. I so badly want to scream at her to get out of me, to tear her slimy consciousness out of my head. But I can't. I can barely even think a single word for myself.
Suddenly something pierces the side of my skull from the inside out. My hands shoot to my head. Fingers in my hair, I hear a pained groan fall from my throat. It feels like talons in my head, scraping down the sides of my brain and making me bleed. My breath disappears. Everything disappears. I can't see. I can't feel or hear or anything at all. There is only hurt.
Please! I scream, shaking shaking shaking. Get out! Stop! It hurts!
The talons keep digging into me, piercing my thoughts and clouding my sense of self.
Everything is dark. Black. There's no Kamal, no Elyse. No story being told.
And then, suddenly, the pain stops. It leaves me here alone, even though I am absolutely, undoubtedly not alone.
It takes everything left in me to open my eyes.
When I look up, I am not in Parlem City. I'm somewhere else.
And then she's there. Right in front of me. She stands calmly in the darkness, staring down at me, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, her arms at her sides. My terrified gaze drifts down to her hands, where her fingers are covered in blood so dark it looks black.
I am counting on you, Benny, she whispers, stepping closer. With that step, she's suddenly right there, inches away from me. You. Not anyone else. Just you.
Her blood-covered hand lifts and hovers just below my chin. No matter how much I try, I can't move away. I'm stuck, frozen.
Her eye twitches. That Isthmus is mine. The only reason you're still alive is because you're going to retrieve it for me.
All I can do is blink up at her in terror. I—I don't know how, I whimper.
Now she lifts her other hand and takes my face in her hot, bloodied fingers. Her grip on my skull is tight. Too tight. She looks down at me with fire in her eyes. It doesn't look hateful—just really, really angry. Furious. I can't tell if it's directed entirely at me.
Someone betrayed me, Ben. It's time she pays. Her nails dig into the sides of my head for a moment too long before she lets me go. I gasp in short-lived relief. Get to the Isthmus. I'll handle the rest.
I still can't move as she slowly backs away from me.
Somehow, in the midst of my terror, I choke, Who?
She stops. Stares me down in a glower that makes me feel even worse.
Who—who betrayed you? I ask, my voice quivering into a whisper with every word. Was it Elyse?
Do not speak her filthy name! she snaps, lunging at me and taking me by the throat. That . . . that creature doesn't deserve to be alive! Do not disrespect me by thinking otherwise!
Somehow, my hands have found their way to her fingers that remain wrapped around my windpipes. I claw at her unmatchable strength, choking for air that never meets my lungs.
This is the last time I tell you, Ben. You do not matter. You are simply a tool I have yet to take advantage of, so do not test my patience.
The darkness warps in, coming closer with every breath not taken, threatening to swallow me whole. My thoughts disappear, leaving only the inevitable death awaiting me here in the black abyss of my own head.
Rose lets go. I barely even realize until I've fallen to the ground. My gasp is delayed, but once I breathe in the air, I'm panting frantically.
Out of pure fear, I croak, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
But she's already gone.