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“She hasn’t eaten anything yet, so why don’t you feed her, too, and get her something to drink. Are you a coffee person? We don’t have it here—no need for it—but it’s easy enough to procure from our neighbors like you.” Crew smiled. “And maybe you’d like to use the bathroom?” The last part was directed to me, which was good because Mace had run into the kitchen as if he’d been sent on a mission to get me food.
Since Crew brought it up, I realized I absolutely did need to pee. In fact, thinking about it made the need more urgent. I nodded to him. “Thanks. I’ll go do that. Maybe you are cut out for these things—the watching out for people who aren’t like you thing.”
As I left the room to head for the bathroom, a smile lit up my face, and I shot a glance over my shoulder to see him return it. I saved a life—even though it likely was more due to luck than skill on my part—and a little bubble of effervescence seemed caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe I got to spend the next six weeks doing things with interesting people who absolutely weren’t going to want to sleep with me. Even if they did, Clarke wasn’t going to tell me I had to in order to continue to live by his good will.
The circumstances that had brought me there were dire. I’d never get over my grief, as it burned like a hot coal in my chest. But maybe Amias sent me to their planet to have a break? He likely knew about the storms, after all. His ultimate intention had been for me to bring them his note, but maybe he’d had a secondary, secret plan. I doubted it as quickly as I thought of it, though. Thinking back, his focus had remained laser sharp on killing Clarke…but maybe he’d thought of the possibility of me having a break there somewhere in the back of his head.
I chose to think he had planned it. What harm does it do to think so?
He and Stone were gone. I could imagine whatever I wanted. It harmed no one, and if it gave me peace, perhaps it served a good purpose.
I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth with my newly returned toothbrush, and cleaned as best I could with the products I managed to pack. Quickly, I changed into a pair of mostly clean pants, which at least were an improvement over what I had worn traveling. I snagged a clean shirt, glad one of them remained, then pulled my red hair out of the holder that restrained my braid. Twining my fingers into the locks, I began to un weave the braid, feeling the weight of my curls hitting my shoulders like a burden. Funny—it used to be a sign of wealth and society for a woman to have her hair braided, but on my planet, it came to mean prostitute. The intricate braid and the brand on my forehead—a ragged circle of braided ink that went from the center of my forehead to my scalp, where it vanished into my hair—proved me to be nothing more than the property of Clarke.
Most of the time, I hardly even noticed the brand, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it right then. It happened when I was twelve, which seemed awfully long ago. They put me in a chair, and a man with hair on the backs of his hands tattooed me. Despite the so-called numbing ointment, I screamed the entire time. After they gave me the mark, it became clear. I was this person. They taught me how to spread my legs. Someone paid a lot of money for my virginity—not that I ever learned the price—and that would be my life for so long as I lived. At fifteen, they took my ability to have a baby. I never feared sexual diseases or anything of that nature, as the men went through the med machine before they were allowed to touch us. I simply existed.
If I behaved, someday I could petition to have a baby. If my petition was granted, I would go back in the machine to have the process reversed, and Clarke would decide who he would breed me with, if they said yes at all. Stone and Amias could love each other as they saw fit. They could even marry, because they were both men, but my future forever would be determined by whomever owned me, whether that be Clarke or his associates.
Tears flooded my eyes, and I wiped them away. Wow. Where had that come from? I sniffled then said, “I’m fine. Just having a moment.” I spoke to the walls, knowing they could hear me. I wiped the tears away with the backs of my fists in frustration. It was just that I had so few choices, but I remembered a different world. For the first five years of my life, I thought I would grow into a future I didn’t have anymore.
Why should circumstances, like where you’re born, determine the rest of your life?
I sighed. The thoughts didn’t help, so I splashed water on my face then left the bathroom to meet Mace downstairs. He looked up as I walked toward him and offered me a smile. It was nice that he didn’t push me about the I’m fine statement, especially since we both knew he heard me lose it.
“We’re going to look for fruit?”
“I know just where to find it.” He smiled. “So we’re not so much looking as gathering.” He grabbed a basket off the table. “Then, tonight, I’ll make pies and people will buy some. Dessert is my specialty.”
It was the second time he’d brought it up, so I decided it must be a real point of pride for him. I nodded, following behind him without further comment. He led me toward a field on the end of the street, through drizzle as light as mist. When we reached the tree line, he stopped walking and blinked at me as if he just thought of something. “Should I have gotten you a raincoat?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have one, or an umbrella. Is it going to pour? I don’t suppose you have a weather predictor in your brain or something?”
Mace shook his head, his sideways grin revealing a dimple on his left cheek. It was the second time I looked at one of the Super Soldiers and thought the word adorable, which seemed particularly odd when it came to people like him.
“Stay here a second,” he said.
He ran back to their house then returned carrying a sweatshirt with a hood. “Here,” he said as he handed it to me. “It’s mine. Just in case, so you won’t get soaked. If you got sick because I brought you along today, I’d never forgive myself. Also— ” He grinned that sideways smirk again as he opened the basket he carried. “— this is for you.”
Inside the basket, neatly tucked in a soft blanket, I found a warm bun spread with some kind of jelly and a bottle filled with an orange fluid. He’d brought me food. I smiled at him, my throat feeling a little bit closed in that minute. Words failed me, and it took me a second to come up with what I wanted to say.
“Thank you.” That seemed pivotal. “I…This is so nice.” I pulled out the container with the orange liquid. “What is this?”
It was awkward because he held the basket toward me, but when I moved to take it, he tugged it back. Okay. I guessed he intended to carry it for me. All of the sweet things he did for me got added to a running tally in my mind. Where I was from, people just didn’t have that much time to be nice to each other, and I had to wonder what I would owe for the debt of gratitude. We didn’t have to be mean, but the time for kind gestures just wasn’t there. Mace was making me feel all kinds of warm inside, and I tried hard not to be moved by the gestures.
“It’s orange juice.” He blinked. “Don’t have it where you’re from? I know the plantings were different on all the various planets. No oranges on yours?”
I shook my head. “No oranges.”
I removed the lid then took a sip and nearly sighed with contentment. I found the drink sweet, yet tart at the same time. The two tastes warred in my mouth, and I wanted more. And then more. I almost drank all of it at once.
Mace took my arm with his free one and we walked together as I started on the bun. My teeth sank into warm dough with just the right amount of bite. “This is…amazing. All of it. You bake? You did all of this?”
“I squeezed the oranges a few days ago, but the buns were Gunnar. I do dessert, he does breakfasts. Amias used to be dinner, but Ransom took that over after he left. He actually makes the alcohol we sell, too. Crew is the one who hunts, when we need it.”
I never considered how Super Soldiers might earn a living, but there it was. They have to live just like the rest of us. They have to make their way.
“I never saw Amias cook anything. Not in five years.” I took another bite of the bun—it was delicious. “If I’d known he could do this, I would have pestered him. Seriously? This is incredible.”
He shrugged. “It’s a bun with jelly, but I’m glad you like it so much.”
