Page 66 of The Verdant Cage
Meryl clucks her tongue. “Out of line, Rose.”
“You think?” Sal says. She addresses me, pointing at the silvery creek. “Cold water helps you to get back to yourself.” She tosses me a wicked look. “A slap to the face works, too. But only if you prefer.”
I scowl but kneel and splash the crystal water across my cheeks. It’s so cold that I suck in air. My hands are going numb, but I don’t stop splashing because Sal’s right: the water makes the prickly feeling fade. When I’m in control of my senses again, I drop onto my butt at the creek’s edge. “Sorry, Sal. I don’t know what came over me back there.”
Salvatora plops down next to me, but it’s Meryl who responds. “The Guardians call it battle anger. We’ve all felt it. You can be practicing fine for a couple hours, then someone gets a hit in just right, and out of the blue, you’re ten feet tall and made of fire.”
“It’s even worse if they say something mean,” Sal continues as Meryl takes a seat on her other side. “And it’s probably more intense when you’re fighting yourhusband.”
I glance at her to see if she’s serious, but her mouth is tilted in a rare smile. That burns off the last of my…what had Meryl called it? Battle anger. Now I just feel tired. And thirsty. I lean forward to take a long pull of the creek water. “He’s not my husband.”
“Same difference.”
“No, it’s not.” I dry my hands on my pants. “You don’t understand. There are difficulties to this particular betrothal.” Most couples-to-be don’t have a long history of animosityora bride who plans to run away before the wedding ceremony, so when Sal jumps to her feet, I’m caught completely off guard.
“Get over yourself, Rose,” she mutters, stalking off.
My mouth hangs open. I don’t know what I’ve said to upset her. I glance at Meryl and realize I’m waiting for her to comfort me like she always does when Sal’s too harsh. She’s just shredding a brown leaf, though, and not meeting my gaze.
“You don’t know about us, do you?” she finally sighs.
I tilt my head, scrambling to make sense of what’s happening.
“Me and Sal?” Meryl holds up what’s left of the leaf, a skeleton stripped of its flesh. “We love each other.”
I’m about to say that of course they do, they’re best friends and everyone knows it, but then I understand. We’re cautioned not to fall for anyone but our betrothed, but even I know that’s not always how emotions work. Case in point: me with Gryphon. “I’m sorry.”
Meryl’s holding herself utterly still. “It’s the way of the Valley, isn’t it? Our partners are chosen for us based on our House size, age, and bloodline. Not much room for love, especially for a couple who could never bear a child.”
Meryl tosses what’s left of her leaf into the water. We watch it float downstream, light as a spider on the creek’s surface. “She and I want something different,” she says. “Something better.”
Something better.I roll the words around in my head. Before Jonas was Harvested, I was too busy working and staying in line to even consider such a thing.A better community than the one I was born to… What would that even look like?
What I wouldn’t give for my father’s guidance right now. I’d been so young when he was killed, but I remember him as steady and supportive. An optimist, even in the hard times.
“Do you trust Gryphon?” I ask Meryl. The question suddenly feels important.
“Trust him?” She appears to weigh her words. “He’s loyal to his family, but he loves the Valley, too. He’s in a tough spot, and it makes him seem like two different people some days. He tries to do his best by both groups, but I think he’ll have to choose soon. Us or them.” She hops to her feet, wiping leaves off her trousers before offering me her hand. “We have to stop being grateful for crumbs and start fighting for freedom, Rose.”
I let her help me up. “I’m ashamed to say I thought we had it. Freedom. Happiness.”
She shakes her head, soft brown eyes overcast with a wisdom beyond her years. “You can’t have either without choice, not really.” Then she lightly punches my arm. “But I don’t think you should feel ashamed. We all wake up at different times and for different reasons. What matters is what we do after we hear the call.”
40
Reatha stands outside the cave when we return. She’s moving with a particular tightness, hand placed against the side of her back in a way that suggests her kidneys are bothering her.
“Are you well?” I ask.
She flashes a smile. “A kidney infection is all. It’s likely to go away on its own.”
My eyebrows knit together. That’s not a treatment plan. “The Apothecary cottage will have a bearberry tonic for you. Perhaps I could bring it to our next training session?”
She nods, accepting my assistance. “Thank you. If your mother were here, she’d already have given me some pipsissewa. That’s what always worked the quickest, though she said the plant is fussy to grow.”
I’ve never worked with pipsissewa before and am trying to remember where I’ve even heard the name when a page in my mother’s journal flashes in my mind.
Pipsissewashould be avoided in treatment of the kidneys, she’d written.
