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“You learned to read, Perfection?” The Nobleman’s face lights up, and I realize my grave mistake. Perfection can’t read.

“You can’t read?” I ask not editing myself.

“Well, don’t be so shocked, Lucy,” Honor says. “Most Vessels can’t, it’s usually just the new ones who can. We have little use for it at the Refuge. No Vessels born here read. Why would they?” Honor stepped in for her daughter, who’s become so red in the face and embarrassed she can’t speak.

“Then why did it seem like such a big deal that Basil couldn’t read when we took the tests? And Vessel Dignity, she can read, I’ve seen her.” Not teaching everyone to read when the time and resources are available is inexcusable. I’ve lived in a hole for sixteen years and even I see this isn’t okay, being able to read has been my salvation, my only escape in a sequestered life.

Looking back at my classroom visits from earlier this week, it dawns on me that every class I sat in on involved a tedious lecture, never note taking. Not being taught to read is another way to control.

“It’s a mixed bag with the new ones, Lucy. Usually someone speaks up, and then we take them in another room and do a small exam to figure out where their knowledge barrier is, and give them a task that suits their ability. Basil wasn’t unusual in not knowing, if she wasn’t so rebellious she would have fit in here,” says Honor.

“Who is Basil?” the Nobleman asks.

“She was a Vessel who was moved to a different Refuge this afternoon. She’ll receive guidance while she learns what The Light values,” Humbleman Integrity explains, meeting my eyes just as I’m rolling them.

“She was also my friend and my helper’s sister,” I add, unable to edit myself. I need to defend Basil now at least; I did nothing to help her before.

“Why was she moved?” the Nobleman asks.

“Because she didn’t want to see The Light,” I snap. The acknowledgement of Basil’s truth causes my face to fall slack and look down at my hands in my lap.

“Enough, enough. This conversation is quite out of line for our first evening with the Nobleman.” Humbleman Integrity addresses the table, “Depend, a toast is in order, now more than ever.”

Humbleman Depend stands, lifting his glass, “Let us give thanks for the Nobleman’s safe return to our Refuge, may he always receive more than he gives.”

I don’t move to pick up my glass, still annoyed about the Nobleman refusing to let the Vessels read, but Honor pinches my knee tight, warning me to obey. Clenching my jaw I acquiesce, knowing being obstinate won’t do me any good. It will only prove their point that Vessels are weak and need to be dealt with. We hold up our glasses, and the Nobleman raises his glass towards mine.

I meet his gaze full on, wanting him to see the flash of anger building in me. He’s the prophet yet he allows Vessels to be sent away without reason and intentionally keeps them from learning. He both disgusts and intrigues me, and I hate these competing feelings.

He doesn’t look away, and I wish he would. I want him to reprimand me for speaking as I did, for my glare now. I want him to be the person I expect.

He doesn’t do that; instead he offers me a slight smile, his eyes blinking slow, as if trying to stop time. He’s dressed in plain clothing too, and even with his brilliant light, the only thing I see is his face.

Each muscle movement is magnified as his arm reaches over the table towards me. As our goblets touch, the glasses we hold shatter. The shards of glass catch the light as they fall shimmering to the table.

I don’t move, my green eyes stay locked with his emerald ones and I know red wine drips down my hands, but I’m unable to move. His gaze holds mine as the room swirls in the background, because there’s nothing, and no one, in this room besides the Nobleman and me, and we both know it.

chapter twenty-two

A
fter the wine-breaking-eyes-locking disaster, dinner ends quickly. I excuse myself on the pretense that my dress sleeves are covered in wine. Perfection squeals about her mortification over my mistake, as she walks down the hall. I don’t care about Perfection’s feelings now.

There’s enough on my mind.

Hana and Timid are waiting as I burst into the room; they want details of the evening. Even Timid, such a reserved girl, can’t help but sit up in my bed as I recount the food and the music, the wine glass catastrophe. I leave out the part where our eyes met and the Nobleman saw so far inside me I was scared to breathe or think, because even if in many ways he isn’t what I expected, in other ways he is. He’s like the other Councilmen, turning a blind eye to the abuse at the Refuge, and that is unforgiveable.

The girls giggle about the mess we made, and then I make them get into bed.

“In the morning I want to give you both a chance to sleep in. I won’t need your help, and I’ll let Honor know I’ve given permission for you to sleep later than usual.” I want the girls to have a few hours off from catering to me.

“Oh, no, please don’t, Lucy. Honor won’t like that, not at all.” Hana shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Hana. I’ll only be a few hours.”

“I don’t know, Honor wants us to be an example to the other helpers and I fear this will anger her.” Timid bites her lower lip. “But I am awfully tired.” Her eyes close as she lets a large yawn escape her small mouth.

“It will be fine, I promise. I’ll go find Honor straight away and you can get all the winks of sleep you need.” I brush Timid’s hair behind her ears, and watch as she lets her heavy eyelids drop.

“I don’t want to get in trouble, Lucy. I don’t want to go in the dark room again,” Hana whispers to me, her eyes expressing fear about what she’s seen and where she’s been.

“Hana, you’re safe as long as you’re with me. I promised Basil on the boat the day we arrived that I would treat her like the sister I never had. You’re Basil’s sister, so you’re mine, too. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Hana nods her head solemnly. “I know you wouldn’t, Lucy, but everything’s different here. Sometimes I just wish I were back with my mom in our old camp. Basil thought this would be better, but at least then I had my mom.”

“Where did your mom go?”

“The bad men took her from us one night. They came into our camp and took all the girls they could find. Basil covered my mouth with a rag so they wouldn’t hear my screams and then she carried me for a long, long time. She carried me all the way to The Light.”

These memories are too heavy for a nine-year-old to carry. When I was nine, I filled my days reading encyclopedias and pretending to build spy cameras. I spent hours watching Dad clean his guns, knowing he polished them in hopes of keeping me safe. I never worried about my safety or survival within the confines of the compound.

“Hana, it’ll be okay. Just close your eyes like Timid and sleep for as long as you can.” Eventually her breath grows heavy as her eyes close, allowing sleep to overcome her.

Once I know the girls have drifted off, I go over the events of the evening in my mind. I can’t make sense of any of it. The Light has me questioning everything.

They have forced women and girls into oppression by choosing to not teach them to read. I hate to say it, but I feel bad for Perfection. Of course she’s never asked to see the sacred texts, she wouldn’t know what to do with them.

        They put girls in the dark to coerce them to believe. The Council abused Basil to the point that she isn’t the same girl. Most girls aren’t like her; instead of running away they marry men and bear children, taking away their choice and freedom forever.

These facts go against everything I know is right, yet I must reconcile them with the fact that the Haven fills me with a peace I’ve never imagined was real. The Nobleman brings with him the purest light, a light I want to be near. Also, Hana’s here, and I promised Basil to care for her.

I close my eyes, letting my mind dance with the stars that land on the Nobleman’s skin. My mind stays far from the rotting apple tree and everything I left behind. All the present complications prove I have a long way to go if I want to move forward. The only problem is I don’t know what my next step should be.

*****

I wake early, and quietly slip on my dress, not wanting to wake the girls sleeping on the floor. Though I need to find Honor to tell her the girls need a pass, there’s one stop I must make first. I’m hoping Mom will be in the greenhouse and can help.

“Mom?” She kneels on the ground; at the same lettuce spot I saw her last. “Lettuce your favorite now?”

“It’s Clarity. And yes, the lettuce is my favorite. Grows up fast, remains strong.” Her eyes don’t look up from what she’s doing, but I press forward.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Mom says, taking off her gloves, wiping her brow. She has a bandana tied around her hair, sweat on her face. With relief I notice the bruises from a few days ago have faded.

“Did you come here for me or for you?”

“I came here for both of us, Lucy.” Mom meets my gaze, but she shakes her head, as if disappointed in me. “Do we have to go over this again? There are better things to talk about, tell me what the Nobleman is like. Everyone’s whispering about your dinner.” Her questions don’t mean she cares; she’s using them to avoid me. Where did my mother go?

“No, Mom. That’s not what’s important. I ... you know ... I just want….” My words have once again become tangled. I close my eyes, and focus on the dancing light I see, letting it calm me. Feeling steadier, I open them. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I can’t help you, Lucy. What can I do now? I’m a gardener, a mate to Humbleman Resolve. I have no answers for you.” The truth hits me in my gut; it’s not that she doesn’t want to help, it’s that she can’t. She can’t solve my problems, or fix my fears.

“Why did you stop being my mother?” I ask, knowing my question isn’t fair. She had no more choice in this life than I did.

“I didn’t stop, it’s just changed, and you have to accept that. Be like the lettuce, Lucy. Grow up fast and be strong.”

I don’t say goodbye as I walk away, there’s nothing that could be said that would make this hurt less. As much as my body wants to stretch out, reach for freedom, it terrifies me. I don’t feel strong enough to do this on my own, to make a choice, and live with where it leads me. Making a wrong choice has already led to Basil being sent away. Mom warned me, and still I trusted Integrity, only to be tucked in a corner of his own making. Dad always said I was such a bright, wise girl. I believed him, when I shouldn’t have. He molded me into a girl who did the things he wanted, who obeyed without question.

Now I want to be a different sort of girl.

Running out of the greenhouse, and back into the halls of the Refuge I don’t want to stop. I want to run outside, and breathe in the fresh air. Solitary confinement and half-truths aren’t enough. I pick up my pace, awkward as it may be in my dress.

“Lucy?” Someone calls. Stuck in my thoughts, I realize I’m running toward the Nobleman.

“Yes, it’s me.” I realize I can’t just turn the other way now and pretend I didn’t see him. I attempt to catch my breath, embarrassed to be seen so upset.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asks, dazzling though the morning has just begun. There’s a backpack over his shoulder and his clothing is a modified Humblemen robe. He’s still dressed in white, however his pants and tunic look casual, less regal.

“No, but I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you have important things going on … what is it you actually do?” My hand flies to my mouth, but I’m not apologetic. Around him I’m no longer filtering my thoughts or hesitating on words, just like last night at dinner. I’m tired of tiptoeing around the Councilmen, and he’s no different.

He laughs, revealing perfect white teeth. “I do a little of this, a little of that.”

“All while remaining as vague and noncommittal as every other man at the Refuge.” I turn to walk away, really uninterested in his smiles and laughter. My mind still swirls with the conversation I had with Mom, I need a game plan.

“Are you always this diplomatic?”

“No,” I answer. “Usually, I’m a perfectly amiable Vessel.”

“A perfect Vessel, huh?” He smirks, his skin dizzyingly bright, but I can still make out a dimple in his cheek. That detail causes me to groan inwardly. I’m not going to let him sway me from my resolve to be strong, brave. Myself.

The Nobleman is not deterred. “Where are you running off to so early in the morning before you’ve eaten?”

“Honestly, I was dreaming of running away, Nobleman, if you are so interested.”

“Where were you wanting to go?”

“Not far. I work in the flower garden, and I love it there, but it’s not enough. I want out of these walls … to breathe in the fresh air, to see the sky,” I say with honesty, but doing my best to sound harsh. I have no interest in being the Vessel the Councilmen want me to be. Maybe if I just completely lose it they will send me where Basil is, and we can break free together. I wince at the thought as quickly as I have it, knowing I can’t leave Timid and Hana to fend for themselves.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Ask you, the magical Nobleman, to do me the honor of breaking free?” I bow my head and curtsy, knowing my attitude is closing in on disrespect, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t know what else to do, asking for what I want is the only option left.

“Ahhh … so you question me, and The Light, but you want me to help you get outside?” He grins. I lower my eyes to the ground; my heart can’t take the burst inside that comes when I meet him head on. After all, I experienced that just last night and nearly cut my hand on shattered glass.

“You have it about right.” I smile, despite myself.

“I will help you, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask, leery of making promises without knowing what they’ll cost.

“Today we aren’t allowed to talk about The Light. About me being the Nobleman or about you being a Vessel. Deal?”

“What will we talk about?”

“Ourselves.”

“Deal.” I am unsure of what I am or who I am besides a girl who follows orders and listens to commands. I follow his lead, my only motivation the promise of him truly leading me outdoors.

We continue down the hall and then veer off to a side passageway. Several paces later he motions for me to wait in front of a small discreet door, even though I’ve looked over this Refuge as best as I can, it seems there’s always another hallway I haven’t noticed.

He places his hand on the locked doorknob, the door frees itself, and his hand burns brighter for a moment. I know that move.

“This way.” He waves me over, smiling. I step through the entryway and shut the door behind me.

He leads me up a winding, two-story staircase. I imagine an old lighthouse would be like this inside. I read a story once of a lighthouse keeper, and how he would burn his light bright, steering all the ships to safety. My heart lurches again, thinking how I read that book, and how that is a luxury Perfection, Timid, and Hana will never have here.

“Just a few more steps to the top,” the Nobleman says.

The landing of the staircase reveals a glass window, with a large ledge on the outside. “How do we get out there?” I ask.

“That part is easy, see?” He points to a latch, which he flips, sliding open the window frame. “After you.”

I step out and my eyes fill with tears. I hadn’t realize how suffocated I’ve felt until the fresh air fills my lungs. I take a huge breath, relishing the crisp morning air.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I spent my life inside a confined house like the Refuge and then I was free for a few days, on our journey here. That freedom was taken away again, too fast.”

“You don’t want to be here?” The Nobleman closes the window behind us, and we sit down on the ledge. The clouds overhead are grey, but I don’t mind that the sky isn’t blue. It still tastes free.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about The Light? Those were your own rules.” My stomach rumbles, and I clutch it in embarrassment. He laughs though, and opens his backpack. “But you’re ruining the flower garden for me. I was perfectly content collecting herbs there, but now? It seems so trite in comparison.”

“We can leave if you like?” the Nobleman says quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Sorry. Thank you for bringing me here. I needed it.” I blush, looking out towards the water.

“Would you like something to eat?”

I nod yes, and he tosses me an apple. My talisman of freedom.

“Thank you.” I take a bite, savoring the memories of Mom tossing me an apple, offering my first taste of freedom. Now here on the roof’s ledge, I can taste it still. “So where do you live, when you aren’t here?” I ask, making sure I’m seated several feet from him, our goblet collision fresh in my mind.