Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, #2) Page 11

  I appreciate his courage and his offer, but I know I can't depend on him to keep us safe. I simply can’t cede that responsibility to him. But instead of telling him this, I say, "Maybe Elara will be kind enough to understand."

  Maybe.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  After we've traveled thirty minutes, Shale and I move to the trunk and pick out our outfits for the evening. I slide into mine—a teal dress with gossamer, gold-sequin-adorned sleeves that come to my elbow. This one is roomier around the middle than the red one was, and it's easier for me to breathe. I thank Ananke silently; I know Shale has apprised her that I’m still pregnant.

  I choose a gold mask and soft gold shoes. When I turn, Shale, once again, takes my breath away. Like before, he's in an old-fashioned black and white outfit. But this time he wears a gold bowtie around his neck.

  "I feel ridiculous in this," he mutters.

  I smile shyly. "You look dashing."

  He laughs and pulls me to him. The truck bumps over something in the road and we fall to the floor in a tangle, laughing. I try to straighten myself, but Shale puts a hand on my face, suddenly serious. Carefully, he kisses me, as if he's afraid I'll break.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When the truck stops, my heart pounds loudly in the resounding silence. My palms begin to sweat. Finally, Trigger opens the doors and we step out into the chilly night air.

  "Good luck," Trigger says, putting one hand on my arm. I wonder if Ananke has told him I’m still carrying the baby. "Elara’s solid. She’ll listen to what you have to say.” I nod and try to smile, as if I’m just as sure as he is. “I'll be back soon. Wait at the entrance in one hour, yeah?"

  Shale and I head toward the small cement room just outside the yez.

  The inside is the same writhing, throbbing mass of masked people as it was the last time we were here, four days ago. The beat echoes inside my skull, the rhythm trance-like. I look around the room, wondering who here is a Rad, who is just a Chinese bureaucrat trying to unwind from the pressure of the job, and who, like me, is here to plead their case, beg themselves a new life.

  Shale holds my hand tight so we do not get separated as we head toward the back, to the green velvet curtain and the wooden door. A man—a different one from last time—on the other side escorts us to Elara's door, this time without asking who we are, as if he has been told we are coming.

  As we walk, I worry I am not getting enough air. I worry I will faint. I worry Elara will toss me out once I tell her I didn’t get the abortion. And just when I think I cannot worry anymore, there is a strange fluttering in my lower stomach. A strange euphoria goes through me—was that the baby? In spite of where we are and our situation, I have to bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. I glance up at Shale, but his eyes are on Elara’s door.

  We are here. Before we go in, I put my hand on my stomach for just a second to send the baby a message: It's okay. I'll take care of this. Don't worry.

  Elara sits behind her desk, elegant in a white dress cut just right to accentuate her curves. Her mask and elbow-length gloves match her dress, and there are bits of sparkling gold tinsel in the curtain of black hair that skims the tops of her shoulders. She smiles, her eyes shining as they rake over me, head to toe. "That dress suits you. Please, sit."

  We do as she asks. I wish I could hold Shale's hand now, but I know I will look weak if I do. Besides, a partnership between us would just be an added layer of complication in Elara's eyes and I don't want to do anything to put us at a further disadvantage.

  "So." Elara folds her gloved hands neatly on her desk. "I assume the pregnancy has been terminated?"

  My heart starts to beat harder. "No." I'm surprised by how clear my voice is, like I am not the least bit afraid. "I...I couldn't do it."

  The smile slips away, and her eyes are hard through the mask. "I see."

  "Please don't let that affect your decision," Shale says quickly. "We are prepared to do everything it takes to keep low profiles."

  Elara sighs and sits back against the chair. "A pregnancy is going to be extremely hard to hide. No compound is completely free of Chinese scrutiny. This complicates things. I’m sorry; there’s nothing I can do for you now."

  I cannot help it—I begin to tremble. I have to keep my baby safe; it is an irrepressible urge inside me. And yet the woman who has the key says no. I cannot wrap my mind around her outright rejection. "You—you had a daughter once. You must know how difficult this is. Please, don't...don't deny us." I see Shale's posture stiffen in my peripheral vision. Perhaps bringing up her daughter will only make her angrier, more shuttered.

  She stares at me for a long moment, and that hidden fever blazes in her eyes again, just like last time. She flicks a glance at Shale. "Would you excuse us, please? I'd like to speak with Vika alone. Woman to woman."

  He gets up and walks to the door. Turning before he steps out, he says, "I'll be right outside." His eyes tell me all I have to do is call his name and he’ll be back at my side in an instant.

  When the door closes behind him, Elara smiles at me. Her teeth sparkle, a glowing white behind the deep red of her painted lips. "He's in love with you, isn't he?"

  I am not sure of the purpose behind her asking. "We've been through so much together," I respond carefully.

  She nods and drums her slender fingers on the table as she thinks. Then she stands up and comes around to my side, perching on the edge of her ornate wooden desk. We are only a few inches apart; I can feel the heat of her body, smell her scent. It reminds me of chilly winter mornings and something veiled, like fog wafting off a river. "The compound you want entry into is our most prized. It is also the one least policed by Monitors, and with the highest levels of Radical and Sympathetic leaders."

  "I understand. But I am prepared to help you in whatever capacity you need. We won't be burdens on you. I used to work at the Bureau of Transregional Affairs. I know about handling sensitive information. I could be an asset. My family won't bring you down, Elara. Just give us a chance."

  "Do you know," she says finally, placing her hands flat on the desk behind her and leaning back to look down at me, "I'm thirty-four years old?"

  I don't respond, unsure of what this has to do with what we've been speaking about.

  "Venus—my daughter—died when I was twenty-seven. I've been without her, without a family, for far too long. Seven years without family...it changes you. It's changed me, I can feel it. I'm ready for more from life now." She stares at me intently.

  What is her purpose in telling me this? And why is she looking at me like that again? Somewhere deep inside, I feel a sense of dread, of something coming that I am helpless to stop. "I...see."

  She leans down and puts one of her hands on mine. Our hands are almost the same size, but hers feels stronger somehow, like iron cloaked in velvet. "I don’t think you do. You and me, Vika. We can be happy together. I can protect the lot of you—your sister and your unborn child. We can make a life together. I promise, you and your family won't want for anything."

  I stare at her, though I know she’s waiting for a response. Because somehow, somehow I knew. I knew the price I’d have to pay for saving my child’s life would be something of this magnitude.

  "What about Shale?" I ask through lips that are numb.

  Elara straightens, removes her hand from mine. Her mouth is set in a hard line. "We must all make sacrifices. Yours will be Shale Underwood. Leave him behind."

  I clamp my lips together, unable to believe what she is saying. I hope my voice won't tremble when I speak, but it does. "I don't think I can do that. Shale is...he's part of my family, too."

  Elara's face is hard, her smile bitter. "Oh, is he now? Have you forgotten what he is? A Husband, assigned to you to make a healthy baby. You've done that, which means you don't need him anymore. Do you think he's capable of anything more than sex?"

  Anger coils inside me. "It's not like that between us."

  "Maybe not now," Elara says. "But
what do you think it'll be like a year from now? Five years, ten?" She comes to sit beside me in the chair Shale has only just vacated. "He's a man, Vika," she says to me earnestly. "Unable to make the bonds of which only women are capable. It's why our regime back home made sure we used them only for procreation. Women were for bonding, for lifelong love." She smiles softly and brushes my hair from my cheek. I try not to flinch. "I know everything's different for you. You're scared for you, for your sister, for the life that grows inside you. Why don't you take some time to think about it? Come back in a week. Tell me what you've decided." She squeezes my hand once and then lets go. "I know it'll be the right choice."

  I stand, my legs stiff, a pain in my back that wasn't there before. I make my way to the door and then put my mask on. Before I leave, Elara says, "Vika."

  I turn to find that she is back behind her desk. Her dark red lips are pulled into a smile. "Take care of yourself and the baby."

  I nod and leave.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that Shale is not in the hall outside. I need a moment to myself, just to think about what happened and what I will do. I have seven days. I already know what my answer will be: No. I can't possibly live a lie with Elara.

  But can't you? a tiny voice inside my brain asks. Not even for Ceres? For the baby you so desperately want to protect? After all Ceres has been through, after how far we've come, what will happen to her now if we're captured? If we're tortured? She won't stand a chance. She won't survive it.

  I walk numbly down the hallway, past the velvet curtain and door separating the hallway from the rest of the yez. The noise, before so loud and even painful, is soothing somehow. The thumping reverberates through my bones, until I imagine that my whole body vibrates like a tuning fork, concentric circles in my blood moving outward.

  The baby flutters again. Perhaps she can feel the music. Does she approve? I put my hand on my stomach and turn to survey the room. A short, squat woman in a black, lacy mask, standing no more than a foot or two away, smiles at me. The corners of her mouth are bracketed with lines; her eyes shine. In her hands, she holds a big glass of amber liquid. I smile back tentatively and seemingly emboldened, she steps forward.

  "You've got a life in you," she says near my ear. Her accent is thick, similar to that of the Monitors’. She must be Chinese. Her glassy gaze alights on my stomach and her breath smells stale, like the alcohol she's drinking.

  "Yes." I take a deep breath and smooth the front of my gown. It must accentuate my figure more than I’d thought. "Sometimes it's overwhelming. I wonder if I can protect her like I need to." I'm not sure why I tell her this; she is Chinese, and her loyalties probably do not lie in the same place as mine. Maybe it's because the age I estimate her to be is the same age as my mother, and I ache for a maternal bond. Maybe it's because her smile is kind and gentle. Maybe it's that hint of mothering in her voice—I feel absolutely no threat in the way she speaks or holds herself. As if she doesn’t see me as a New Amanian woman, but simply another human being.

  "You'll do what you need to." She looks straight into my eyes. Hers are black with little splinters of red in them, like crimson rock stuck in tar. "You have a quiet strength in you. I see it."

  I want to sob at the openness in her voice. If only she knew the choice I was facing, the two paths that lie before me. I feel a hand on my arm then, and turn to see Shale, looking down at me in concern. He glares at the woman and she shuffles away. I want to tell her to come back, to talk to me some more. But she's gone and my voice stays stuck in my throat like a fish bone.

  "Are you all right?" Shale says, searching my eyes. "I stepped away for a moment to look around the yez and when I went back, you were gone."

  I nod and swipe at my eyes. "I'm fine. But we need to talk."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  On the way back to the compound, after Shale and I have changed, I sit by him in the back of the truck trying to rally the courage to tell him what’s happened. The rumbling, twisting, and turning of the vehicle push me against his chest many times, and I take comfort in the steady pounding of his heart. My voice is low, so much calmer than I am inside. “Elara gave me a choice: I could leave you and go live with her at her compound with Ceres. Or the three of us could stay together, here, and fend for ourselves.”

  "I cannot believe it." In the dim light of the flashlight, I see that his hands are balled into fists on his thighs. The tendons on his the backs of his hands bulge in stark relief. "I can't believe she would do that—try and break up our family."

  My heart soars at the word "family." It is exactly what I told Elara, that Shale was my family. But then my heart plummets back to the ground. We still have this problem to deal with. What does it matter that we consider each other family if we don’t get to live as one? "I don't know what we're to do."

  "You can't go," Shale says, his words tight with fury. "You'll be miserable with her. And we'll never see each other again."

  I turn toward him sharply. "You don't have to tell me what I can't do, Shale. I've already told her no. But she wants to see me again next week. She thinks I’ll have changed my mind."

  His eyes flash with anger. “And will you have?”

  I glare at him, not bothering to dignify his question with a response.

  He blows out a breath and drops his head, so it hangs there like a pendulum, bobbing with each motion of the truck. Finally he looks up at me, his gaze soft. "I'm sorry. I just...it infuriates me."

  "It’s okay. I know what you mean." I touch a hand to my stomach. "We'll just have to spend next week thinking about it. We need a solution that won't antagonize Elara and will still keep our family safe. I’m afraid that if she perceives anything I do or say as a slight, she might retaliate." I don’t know what, exactly, gave me this feeling. Perhaps it was the way Elara spoke of wanting a family, like she thought I was the panacea for her loneliness because I came with one ready-made. Perhaps it was the way she touched me, like she already owned me.

  "I wish we weren't already in danger of being exposed," Shale says, voicing my own fear. "The cell has been captured. How much more time do we have left? One week might just be too long."

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  It is as if fate hears Shale.

  The next four days are uneventful. The number of infidels on their chalkboard remains unchanged. Then, on the fourth day, when we arrive outside to line up in the courtyard for the anthem, there is a surprise. Flyers have been posted everywhere—on the flagpole, on the light post, on the walls of the shops. They say:

  FUGITIVE WANTED:

  ONE PREGNANT NEW AMANIAN FEMALE. ARMED. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. BE ON THE LOOKOUT. REWARD FOR INFORMATION.

  My stomach drops, the way it does right before a fall or when looking down from a great height. I am on the verge of falling. I can feel it. I run my eyes over every flyer, trying to discern whether or not they have my picture, my name, fingerprints, any identifying information about me at all besides the fact that I am pregnant. I don’t see anything—but that doesn’t mean they don’t have it.

  Monitor Ng, stands before us, smiling a wintry smile. “You may notice signs posted everywhere. It has come to our attention that pregnant fugitive is on compound.” She walks up and down the front row, her long legs swallowing the ground beneath. “She has mistaken our kindness for weakness. We will do everything in our power to catch her. Starting today, all females will take pregnancy test. That will narrow our focus.” She smiles, tight-lipped. “It is only matter of time.”

  “These women report for pregnancy testing this morning.” Monitor Wang begins to read names off a list. I wait to hear Kalliope’s name. But then he reaches the end, and I have not been called. Not today. Can it really be that they don’t know anything else about me except that I am pregnant? But why? Surely the fugitive cell they’ve captured gave them more information that just that small sliver of information. And why don’t they have information on Shale or Ceres?

  I try not to let my consternati
on show. Though my lip trembles, I clamp down on it. It is utterly important that I don't show any hint of frailty now. They will be looking. Everyone is looking for me.

  I catch Shale's eye as we walk to the office to gather our supplies for the day. His face is a mask of calm, but I can see the alarm in his gaze. He is just as disturbed by the news as I am. He knows the net is closing around me, and by association, around the baby. I grab Ceres’s arm when she stumbles. I think she was only pretending to stumble so she could touch me, to assure herself that I am here, I am still here, they haven't got me yet. I squeeze her hand and quickly let go.

  On my way to the washroom, my boots squelching in the mud, I keep my eyes down. I hear New Amanian women whispering as I walk by. I strain to hear if they are whispering about me, but they seem to be talking about the pregnant female wanted without any idea that she and I are the same person. No one seems to particularly eye me. Can it be that they don't know? Isn't it obvious? To me, it seems my body changes and grows by the day, flexing and stretching to accommodate the baby. I feel heavier, slower, painful all the time, like my whole body is an exposed nerve.

  After I relieve myself in the disgusting toilet, I begin the long walk back through the sodden fields.

  "Kalliope Palmer."

  It takes me a moment to realize the person is addressing me. I freeze and turn, squinting against the sickly winter sun. Monitor Ng watches me, an odd smile on her face. The cold wind blows strands of silken hair against her porcelain cheeks.

  Goosebumps immediately douse my arms and legs, and I am grateful for the covering from my wool tunic and pants. I take off my hat in deference as we have been taught to do before I answer her. "Yes, madam?"

  She steps closer, crushing small, dry stalks of winter weeds beneath her feet as she walks. She looks me up and down, slowly. "Are you feeling all right?"

  My heart is racing; I'm afraid she will hear the sound of my fear. Or that she will smell it on me. It takes everything I have to not curl myself around my stomach, to not touch the place that harbors my baby. Even so, there is something in her eyes, something shrewd and sharp that says she knows I have a secret. "Yes, I am."