Page 55 of The Verdant Cage
I glance at his wounded arm, covered to the elbow by his shirt. No visible signs of blood poisoning or undue swelling. I put a pan of water on the warming stove and drop rolled oats into it, followed by a sprinkle of lavender. I wish I had black walnuts to give it character. We should receive a fresh delivery of fruit and vegetables soon, the little that’s left this time of year, but until then, it’s going to be porridge for our morning meal.
“What are your duties for the day?” I ask.
“Same as usual,” he says. “Check the perimeter for breaches. Guardian training. Gryphon will give you a preview this afternoon.”
That’s right: my betrothed is taking me to watch their training. It’ll be difficult to find time for the vault today, but I can’t give up on getting in, especially now that I’m resolved to go look for Jonas.
I don’t think I’ve gone more than a few waking moments without thinking about him since the Harvest. There’s always some joke I want to crack, some new discovery to share with him. Except now, instead of imagining his end and wondering if it was quick, I want to know if he’s cold. If he’s wounded. If he still has hope.
I’m no fool, not when it comes to life and death. I know my twin might already be gone, but by going to the top of the Wall, I can at least look for evidence of his fate myself. I survived seeing my father’s body. As terrible as it was, there was a peace to it, a finality.
“You look like Henrietta when you cook.”
I freeze, holding a wooden spoon just above the bubbling pot, its fragrant steam enclosing my face. I’d forgotten Jarek was there. “You’ve seen my mother cook?”
“Once, when I was young.” His voice sounds far away. “Fourteen or fifteen. I was upset about something. Skipped training and found myself drawn to the Apothecary cottage by the most beautiful singing. Your mother was the only one home, preparing the evening meal. She sounded like an angel, Henrietta did. Looked like one, too.”
He begins crooning “Down in Noah’s Valley,” the lullaby my gran was humming the other day. Jarek’s baritone is surprisingly soulful. “So sleep, my darling, don’t you be scared, the Wall made us whole, and our order repaired.”
I risk a peek at him. His expression is relaxed. It’s the first time all week he hasn’t resembled a bird of prey. Could this man really have helped orchestrate my mother’s murder, as Meryl and the others believe? He’d looked genuinely stricken in the moment.
Jarek rubs his hand across his short hair, like he’s scrubbing away the memory. “I’ve never heard a sweeter voice. It’s a shame she wasn’t born to the Minstrels. I was in love with her. Did you know that?”
He isn’t asking like he expects an answer, which is good because I’m speechless. He must be very,verytired to admit all of this to me. And as much as I hate the idea of Jarek mooning after my mother, I feel an unexpected gratitude. What a beautiful moment to have shared. It’s how Mom would want to be remembered.
“In love with who?” Misia asks, coming down the stairs.
Fear zips down my spine. For all the emergencies that show up at the Apothecary house, we’re a calm family. The Tzus behave like they’re always one cross word away from a fistfight.
“Why you, of course,” Jarek says, his words preternaturally smooth.
Just then, the porridge boils over, splattering the counter. I quickly move it to the sink, realizing this is the second time in two days I’ve nearly burned breakfast. As I wipe away the mess, I feel Misia weighing whether to believe her husband. Fortunately, Gryphon enters from the back of the house, breaking the tension. But then confusion takes over as he strolls to me, his hand sliding around my lower back. He leans over and kisses my forehead before staring into my eyes. I shiver and instinctively look away from the intimate gaze.
Misia stares at us suspiciously. That’s when I realize what Gryphon’s doing. He’s pretending, just like I did last night. I bounce on my toes, stretch a bit, and land a clumsy peck on his cheek, accidentally making a weird smacking noise. I’m embarrassed to discover that he was right: I’m not great at this. It’s not like I’ve ever kissed someone before. Well, until the roof. Yet Gryphon opens his onyx eyes slowly after my cheek attack, as if waking from a dream. The black glass is on fire. His mouth curves.
.
I try to slip out after serving the Tzus, lying that I promised the Record Keeper I’d show up early. Gryphon stops me, though, a raised eyebrow telling me all I need to know: he’s not going to let me leave without breakfast. I huff, crashing into a chair to swallow some porridge. The Tzus’ bickering makes eating difficult, but it would be a lie to say that a small part of me isn’t touched by Gryphon’s concern. It is usually me doing the caring.
I rinse my dish and head outside. On the doorstep, the sun lands like a smile on my face. I hope the tablet on the roof is soaking up every bit of it. When I reach the library door, I enter without knocking. It might be connected to the Record Keeper cottage, but it’s still a public space.
Simon stands just inside, shoving a book onto the shelf. “Rose!”
He’s wearing short pants, his knobby knees exposed. He didn’t get Marina’s facial symmetry, but neither did he inherit her mean streak. He appears both happy to see me and a little guilty.
“Hey.” I twist the web of skin near my thumb. I’ve been waiting to get him alone since Jonas was Harvested. If I come on too strong, though, and straight out ask him what my brother saw in the vault that morning, will he clam up?
“What’re you reading?” I ask innocently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Something boring.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “A book about solar energy.”
“May I see?” I’m surprised at my own brazenness. We’re taught it’s impolite to ask someone what they’re reading. It invades the privacy of their mind. Plus, many villagers don’t read at all outside of school, and drawing attention to that would single them out.
It’s just the right question for Simon, though. His face lights up. He reaches for the book he replaced. Its title isSolar Power on a Budget. It strikes me as a text more for the Engineer House, but I suppose that as a Record Keeper, it’s important he have a surface-level understanding of many subjects. I allow him to show me some diagrams, explaining concepts I’m sure Albert would understand but fly well over my head, but I soon grow impatient with the niceties. The weight of not listening to Jonas the last time I saw him alive has become unbearable, and I don’t know when someone else might interrupt us.
“Simon, please tell me what you and Jonas saw in the vault the morning he was Harvested. I miss him so much. Knowing what happened in his final hours would really help.”
His face falls. He glances toward the living quarters. “Wish I could, but Marina would kill me.”
