Page 46 of The Verdant Cage
The solidness of him, like a tough little nut, comforts me as I make my way to the kitchen, and while I’d planned to reheat last night’s chowder, I find it’s already been eaten.Lend me your patience, Lucky Bunny.I take deep breaths as I mix rolled oats with a handful of flaxseed and red currants, enough for the whole household. I’m grateful for this moment of grounding before Misia comes down the stairs.
“You’re going to spoil us with your cooking,” she says, her tone neutral. The severity of her close-cropped hair highlights a new black eye opposite her injured cheek.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Training accident,” she says, tapping the edges of her bruised flesh. It’s the same thing Gryphon used to say when he showed up to school with injuries. She nods at the stovetop. “What are you making today?”
“Rolled oats. I’d like to add some beet sugar, but I don’t see any. Do you know where your allotment went?”
“Gryphon, probably,” she says, a rare burst of warmth in her voice as she speaks of her son. “He’s got a real sweet tooth. I’ll pick up some more tomorrow.”
I’ve only been here a few days, but it’s long enough to know the Tzus—and possibly more Guardians—don’t follow the same rules as the rest of us. Still, I’m shocked she says it so brazenly. Sugar has already been distributed for the month. There shouldn’t be more for two more weeks.
“What are your duties for the day?” I ask as I reach for the teapot. It’s a standard morning greeting, but I’m genuinely curious.
She sits at the table, a soft, unguarded smile flickering across her face when I hand her a hot cup of chicory tea. The morning drink will focus her thoughts and aid her digestion.
“We have an outpost on the north side,” she says, inhaling deeply the bitter aroma. “I’m on watch.”
“I’ll bake corn cakes to send with you,” I say.
“You’ll make a good wife.”
I look to see if she’s mocking me, but she seems sincere. Husbands and wives share homemaking duties equally in the Valley. If I were to truly be a good spouse, I’d require the others to pull their own weight. For the first time, I consider how lonely Misia must be.
The oats begin bubbling over, pulling me from my thoughts. I leap toward the stove, knocking a spoon off the counter by accident.
“Clumsy girl,” she murmurs.
“I’ll grab another,” I say brightly, filling her dish. The specks of red currant look like blood clots in the porridge. Any appetite I’d woken with is suddenly gone.
Misia studies me for a second too long before digging into her meal.
.
The morning passes quickly. If not for Jonas’s absence, I might even have enjoyed the census work. Walking outdoors, popping into workshops to survey villagers as they practice their trades, talking to people I’ve only ever greeted in passing…it’s all a pleasure. Cottage by cottage, I log the members of my community, all the while keeping an eye out for clues about the two recent murders. But the only thing I notice is how tired many of us appear and how bare the kitchen cupboards are.
Once I’ve completed the day’s work at record speed, I slip into the forest.
Reatha the Chemist has fresh spring water and honey-drenched cricket cakes waiting when I arrive. Meryl, Sal, Eero, and Gryphon are already there. There’s a jolt in my belly at the sight of my betrothed, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms as he demonstrates something to Sal. I haven’t seen him since last night and begin to spiral. Is he disgusted by the memory? It’s possible no one—including my soon-to-be partner—wants me here.
Did they all talk about me before I arrived? My stomach cramps, and I consider turning around. Then Eero walks over to clap me on the back, and Meryl flashes me a smile, and suddenly my worry melts away.You can do this, Rosie.I smile. My inner voice sounded like Jonas that time.
“Circle up,” Gryphon commands.
I snap to attention. The others follow suit, fanning out around him. Albert’s nowhere to be seen, but Marie seems happy to watch on the sidelines, fresh curls bouncing as she listens to Gryphon explain what we’re to learn this evening.
“We’ll start with hand to hand, and if the newbie doesn’t hold us back too much,” he says, glancing my way for the first time since I arrived, “we’ll move to the staff.”
His words should embarrass me, but there’s something new in his tone, something welcoming. He’s teasing me as he would the others. His regular coldness isn’t gone, exactly, but eased up. It makes me feel like there are bubbles under my skin.
I pop them. In the cold light of day, I realize I cannot allow myself to let my guard down around Gryphon, one great kiss be damned. Besides being the one who walked Jonas to the basket, he’s the son of the man responsible for manipulating and lying to the Valley. Maybe he wishes it weren’t so, but I can’t afford to fall for someone so tangled in the very roots I need to tear out. I break our locked gaze.
“Let’s pick up where we left off last week,” he says, frowning, “with wrist and throat locks.”
I can’t believe it when I see my hand rise. “What should we imagine we’re fighting?”
Sal punches my arm, and not too lightly. “Shut up and listen.”
