Page 3 of The Verdant Cage
I can hear the musicians warming up ahead. I need to know the extent of his violation lickety-split if I’m going to protect him from the fallout. “Today I’m allowed to ask for anything,” I say, squeezing the medicine bottle in my pocket. “Your gift to me will be to tell me what you saw, and whatever it was better have been worth breaking the law.”
He shrugs, almost to himself. “Rules that never yield belong to tinctures, not people, Rose.”
“Jonas!” My blood pressure rises, heating my cheeks.
I know I’m a hypocrite for scolding him on this front, but I couldn’t bear it if my twin was caught and whipped. We never used to have whippings in the Valley, but we never used to have the Vex or animal attacks, either. Those recent tragedies have cost us arable land, a precious commodity given our finite acreage. With that loss came new measures: food rationing, more frequent Harvests, the whipping posts, citizens seventy and older no longer receiving medical intervention.
The last one is why I smuggle the vial.
Jonas shakes his head as we turn onto Horace’s street, the shortest path to the square.“Forget I said anything,” he says. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut on today of all days.”
“It’s too late for that,” I say firmly. “What’d you see?”
He grimaces. “If there’s a creature more stubborn than you, I hope never to meet it.” He side-eyes me for a moment, then groans. “Okay, Rosie. Like I said, it was in the Record Keeper vault.” His eyebrows meet in worry. “I know I wasn’t supposed to go down there, but I was dying to. I told Simon I wanted to see inside and that it was the least he could do for me today. You know, because I’m your brother.” He tosses me a sad smile. “And I’m gonna miss you.”
“Me too, Jackrabbit.” I haven’t used his childhood nickname in years, but if not today, when?
“Simon finally relented,” he continues.
The Teacher cottage—Horace’s—comes into view.
Jonas’s voice grows pained, but he never slows his stride. “But I wish I’d listened to him and never gone in…”
My pulse quickens. “Get to the point, Jonas.”
He glances around nervously again, even though absolutely every villager but Gran awaits us in the square. I allow myself to fall half a step behind him. In my pocket, I grip the vial.
“It was about our people,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Those of us inside the Wall.”
I reach out my arm, stretching mid-stride, and plink the little miracle in the crack of my former Teacher’s windowsill. Digitalis extract—a tincture distilled from foxglove—for elderly Horace’s failing heart. Relief washes over me at a job discreetly done. It lasts only until I hear my brother’s next words.
“We’re not what you think, Rose.”
I grab his arm, desperate to hear the rest, but of course he waited until the last possible moment. We’ve reached the square. String instruments swell at the crowd’s first sight of me, drums joining in rhythm. I fight to breathe through the sudden, crushing weight on my chest as hundreds of eager, almost hungry faces turn toward us. Their clothing burns like fire against the emerald sprawl known as Eden’s Gate, the section of the impassable Wall that serves as the backdrop for all our ceremonies.
I can smell the savory chicken pies cooking in the Bakers’ outdoor oven, a rich gravy scent blending with the sweetness of apple bread. We’ll feast today. I should be drooling—it’s been mostly mealworm porridge and cricket flour biscuits for weeks—but nerves have frozen my gut.
Jonas hugs me quickly, anxiously, and whispers, “I’ll tell you everything later.” Then he slips into the milling crowd, leaving me to walk the final leg of my journey alone, as tradition demands. I want to race after him, ask him what he means, but when I realize the community’s eyes are trained on me, a lifetime of conditioning kicks in.
I have a sacred duty, and it begins today.
I am to become a wife. A Guardian. A peg sliding into its perfectly assigned hole.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry.
I glance up at the Wall to draw strength. Vines crisscross its stone surface, their leaves swaying in the autumn breeze, deep greens starting to purple at the edges. Nowhere is the Wall more beautiful than Eden’s Gate, but something’s off…
A chill runs down my spine as I realize what it is.
The Harvest basket is down.
It’s propped against the Gate and looking for all the Soil in the Valley like the gaping mouth of a predator, not that I’d ever voice anything so disrespectful. But it shouldn’t be down. Only two ceremonies call for the basket, and a wedding isn’t one of them. Maybe it’s down for servicing?
My gaze travels to the grand wooden stage in front of the Gate. It’s where Gryphon and I will soon be married. The thought makes me dizzy, so I drag my eyes instead to the enormous stone chapel directly opposite. The two structures anchor our village square like sentinels.
Move, Rose, I tell myself.The sooner you start, the sooner this is over.
I don’t make it ten feet before I’m distracted by a shadow hugging the chapel wall to my left. Baby hairs shoot up at the base of my neck, but whatever I think I see disappears in a blink. Gran’s the only one with Council permission to stay home today. If someone truly is hiding back there, it’s a whippable offense.
