Lark Ascending (8 page)

“Just as well,” said Caesar, forehead furrowing in a scowl. “Renewables caused the wars that started all this. Don't need them complicating things.”

If Eve took offense at Caesar's dismissal of her people, she didn't show it. Her face remained calm, relaxed, lips curved in the slightest of smiles.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Kris continued. “Because I found something better.”

Both of Caesar's eyebrows went up, eye patch creasing his skin. “Better than an army of Renewables?”

Don't do it,
I thought, willing him to keep quiet. Kris ignored me—but Eve anticipated him, her gaze shifting to my face. I could feel her watching me, the sensation as clear as warm water flowing over my skin. For an insane moment, I wondered if she could read my mind.

“I found Lark,” Kris said, making my heart plummet.

Caesar turned to look at me, and I stared at the worn carpet on the floor, bracing myself for a cruel bark of laughter. It didn't come.

“The architects seem to think you're some sort of weapon,” Caesar said slowly. His one good eye was fixed on my face, betraying nothing but an intense, clinical interest.

I shifted uncomfortably under his stare. “Not a weapon,” I said firmly. “But I'll help in whatever way I can. Kris seemed to think—well, he seemed to think you needed some kind of unifying figure. Someone to stand behind for the fight against the architects.”

Caesar made a noncommittal sound in his throat, still gazing at me, distracted. For all the changes he'd undergone, this much, at least, was the same. From the way he was looking at me, I knew wasn't his little sister to him—I was a tool, and my worth was only as much as it could benefit him. I still had no clue how he'd come to be on the side of the resistance—but this was still the same man who'd betrayed me to get ahead.

But before either of us could say anything more, Oren spoke up. He'd retreated to lean against the wall behind my chair, but now he straightened and pushed away. “Lark's exhausted,” he said shortly. “And this woman looks about to drop, too. Is there a place we could all get some rest, and we can figure all this out in the morning?”

I flashed him a grateful look—being in Eve's presence made my whole body ache, skin prickling as though I'd been lying in the sun for too long.

Caesar waved a hand. “Of course. Kris, there are some empty rooms on Delta Corridor, if you want to show them the way?”

Kris seemed to know what Caesar was talking about, because he nodded and headed for the door. Though I couldn't feel Eve's eyes on me anymore as I got to my feet and turned to follow Kris, I felt her reach out nonetheless. Something brushed against my thoughts, the same fluttering pulse that I'd felt the first time she'd reached out to me through the Machine, during my agonizing torture at the hands of the architects. I shivered, repressing the impulse to turn back.

I just wanted out of there—I wanted to be as far away from her as I could get. I couldn't have explained why the warmth of her touch unsettled me so. She'd only ever helped me, and she couldn't help what had been done to her over the years of torment and pain.

Maybe it was just all too easy to imagine myself in her place.

•  •  •

Kris led us to a dark, rubble-filled corridor that smelled of mildew. “It's not great,” he said apologetically. “But it'll be safe, and you'll get used to the smell. Sort of.” He reached for a makeshift door and shoved it open. It sat unevenly on its hinges and took a bit of force to muscle open with a screech against the stone floor.

I lifted my lantern so that it cast its dim glow into the room. It made my little nook in Lethe seem like a palace. It held a small cot and a packing crate to double as nightstand and storage, and nothing else. Nix crawled out of where it'd been hiding in my collar and made a tiny but vehement noise of disgust.

My thoughts exactly,
I thought, my heart sinking a little. Still, Kris was right. It was safe. It'd do.

Kris took a step back so he could glance from me to Oren. “Should I see if the one next door is empty?” He spoke with such tact and poise, and yet I felt my face starting to heat. Inwardly, I cursed the genes that had given me this fickle complexion.

“The one room will do,” Oren replied mildly, unfazed.

Kris cleared his throat. “Right,” he said briskly. “Well, rest up. I'll try to get someone to bring you guys something to eat—even if it's just dry rations.”

“What about you?” I asked, letting my pack slide from my shoulder to thump onto the ground.

“Like Caesar said, I was a double agent. I spent most of my time in the Institute; I never had quarters here. We'll see where Caesar puts me. You might have a neighbor soon.”

Kris flashed me a smile, then nodded at Oren, smile dimming a little. “Nix'll be able to find me if you need something.” He paused, smile vanishing the rest of the way. “Don't worry, Lark. I didn't think they'd be able to get to the Renewable without my help, but this doesn't change anything. You're the one they need.”

I nodded, my mouth dry. Part of me wanted to protest that inheriting this ramshackle rebellion was not my dream, that if Eve would suit them all better, she could have them. But Kris was so certain, so unwavering, that the words died on my lips.

“Good night, Kris,” I said instead.

He left us, and Oren dropped his pack behind mine and put his shoulder to the door, shoving it closed again.

Nix buzzed from my shoulder to complete a quick circuit of the shabby room.
“If it's all the same to you, I may find someplace else to power down for the night.”
Its voice was thick with disdain.

“Be my guest,” I said with a sigh. “Someone may as well find a nice place to sleep.”

“You're the one who wanted to come back here,”
said Nix archly before zipping over to the door, which was so ill-fitted to its frame that the pixie was able to crawl through a gap and vanish.

I set the lantern down on the nightstand. Its meager light seemed even dimmer now, the darkness closing in around us. I shivered in the damp, musty air.

“This is miserable,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

I felt Oren's arms slide around me, and I gratefully leaned in against him. For a moment I could almost ignore how careful we both were not to touch each other's skin, to only touch fabric. For a moment it almost felt normal.

“It's not so bad,” he said, his voice rumbling through his chest and straight to my ears.

“Says the claustrophobe,” I pointed out. “How are you not absolutely losing your mind down here?”

“I'm thinking very hard about that tiny cot we get to share.” Oren pressed his cheek to mine for a tingling moment, then pulled back enough so that he could look at me. “What your brother said in there—that the Renewables caused the war. What war?”

I sighed, pulling away and dropping down onto the edge of the cot with a creak of warped metal. “You really don't know anything about history, do you?”

“Not a lot of time to study up when you're a monster,” Oren pointed out.

My laugh was tired, but his joke—however black—made the bands of tension around my chest ease a little. “They're the reason why the world is the way it is. It was over a hundred years ago, when all the cities still stood, and there was plenty of magic to go around. The Renewables, who provided the magic, started to hoard it and compete with each other. Competition turned to fighting, fighting turned to war. Whole cities turned against each other, supporting different groups of Renewables, all promising different things.”

Oren grunted. “Like wolves snapping over the remains of a kill.”

“Except with forces powerful enough to destroy the world,” I replied, my voice dry. “Magic against magic, and eventually they poisoned the world so much that it became like it is today.”

“The Renewables in the Iron Wood didn't seem hungry for power,” Oren said slowly. “Aside from the fact that they wanted to kill me, they seemed okay.”

“I guess fighting for survival changes your priorities.”

Oren shrugged. “Just seems odd that an entire race of people would all start acting like dictators.”

“I'm sure there were nuances, but that's what we all learn early on. Every child knows the stories, so we don't repeat our mistakes.”

Oren was quiet for a moment, brow furrowed as he watched me. “And who taught you that?”

“The—” I stopped short, voice stuttering. “The Institute.”

“And they're always so truthful.”

I shifted uneasily and then lurched to my feet, pacing past him in the meager confines of the room. “I know. But it's the only answer I have, the only one any of us have. That's part of why I had to come back. That the Institute was hiding more than just Eve.”

Oren crossed his arms. “Yes, that woman… What happened to you earlier? You were fine, and then she spoke and—I've never seen your face go so white so fast. Who is she?”

“She's—” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. How could I explain to Oren how it had felt, realizing I'd been sharing this woman's memories for the past month? “She's the Renewable the architects here captured years ago,” I said finally turning back toward him. “The one who told them about the Iron Wood, and who helped me escape.”

“You don't seem happy to see her.”

“No, I am.” I laid my hand against his chest, smoothing the fabric of his shirt. It was an excuse to keep my eyes on his chest and not meet his gaze. “I'm glad she's out of there, that the architects aren't hurting her anymore. It's just—something's different about her.”

“Other than the fact that she shines?”

“You can see that?” I lifted my head, blinking.

“She glows in the dark. How could I miss that?”

“I thought maybe it was just magic, that I couldn't tell the difference because it was so strong.”

Oren shook his head, bemused. “No, she definitely glows. And—I don't know why, but I felt different around her.” His eyes went distant, brows drawing inward. I could see his face change, the characteristic ferocity smoothing, the set of his mouth relaxing. It wasn't until I reached up and touched his cheek that he jerked back to the present, eyes finding mine again.

“Different?” I echoed.

“More—solid.” He frowned. “I'm not sure that's the right word. It felt…” He trailed off, realization spreading across his features so clearly it was like a light coming on. I was close enough that I could feel his heartbeat—and I felt it quicken. I waited for him to speak, but he didn't.

“Oren, what's going on?”

He cleared his throat, giving himself a visible shake. “Nothing. I don't know, it must be whatever affected you. How are you feeling? Think you could sleep?”

I tried to hide my hurt and surprise that he didn't confide in me. I wished I could push him, ask what had affected him so profoundly. But Oren never pushed me when I wasn't ready to talk, and I knew I couldn't force it. He'd tell me when he was ready.

Besides, I was still exhausted. “Sleep? For a week,” I admitted.

We found bedding in the packing crate nightstand and made up the cot. It creaked as Oren lowered himself onto it, the whole thing sagging in the middle. Never had I missed my sofa bed in my parents' apartment more.

Where
were
my parents? I'd been trying not to think about them, especially after I'd learned from Kris that the city had fallen apart. Were they rebels too? Which side occupied the sector where they lived?

Oren interrupted my thoughts, reaching for my hand to tug me down onto the bed beside him. The mattress was flimsy and bowed so much in the middle that it rolled us together as soon as I tried to lie down. Oren cursed, trying to detangle limbs and blankets and only making it worse.

In spite of everything, a laugh fought its way free from the tangle of emotions in my chest. Oren stopped struggling, dropping his forehead down against my shoulder and breathing a quiet laugh in response. He wrapped an arm against my waist and pulled me close, tugging the blankets over us both with his free hand.

I nudged the pillow into place under our heads and reached over to turn off the lantern. In the dark, at least, we could no longer see the exposed pipes and crumbling, rotting stonework. I sighed. It was better than sleeping on the ground outside—barely.

Oren pressed his lips to the hollow below my ear. “You can do this,” he murmured, voice quiet but no less fierce for it. “I'm with you. Every moment.”

When Kris told me I could lead these people to victory, it made me want to run the other way, to find some place where no one expected anything from me and I could just be normal, just a girl. But Oren's voice was different. His whisper in my ear felt real. When he spoke, I could almost believe—I could almost see myself as I knew he saw me.

He stole my breath. My heart pounded, skin tingling with the warmth of his arms around me. I wanted so badly to turn around in the circle of his arms, let him kiss me, sink into his embrace. But to touch him was to feel the shadow in both of us; to let that darkness overtake longing and turn us into something we didn't want to be.

I had no voice with which to reply, but I reached for his hand, weaving my fingers through his and pulling it up so I could kiss his palm. I could only hold it for a moment, the touch magnifying the tingling drain his presence caused. Then I let it go, and he pulled away enough for the buzz of magic to fade, just a little.

You can do this.

In the morning, we would have to find out if he was right.

Kris came for me the next morning and found me wide awake. I'd fallen into an uneasy sleep in the small hours of the morning, my body not accustomed to the time inside the Wall. Oren woke before I did, pacing the room for a while as I dozed. I watched him now and then through my lashes, wondering all over again that he'd agreed to come with me. He didn't belong in a place like this, full of dank underground air and damp. He needed sun and wind on his face.