Page 8 of The Verdant Cage
That means nothing to me, except that in addition to operating the basket, the tablet decides who will be Harvested. It draws on census data from the Record Keeper to calculate births, deaths, food stores, family size, and projected crops, then runs a formula to pick the lucky citizen. An unexpected thought drops into my head. If the tablet dies completely, will there be no more scheduled Harvests? Could I destroy it, saving other families this suffering?
My brain immediately blanches at the heretical thought. Grief is tainting my mind. Harvests are our greatest honor. Without them, our population would have grown too large and many of those inside our Wall-limited paradise would have starved or had to resort to violence to stay alive.
Misia picks up the tablet and walks it over to a cupboard, as if to protect it from me. I realize she’s not really that tall. It’s the way she carries herself that makes her seem bigger, stronger.
She slides it into the kitchen cabinet and closes it with aclick. “But you’ll learn all the ins and outs of the tablet now that you’re of the Guardian House,” she continues. She says it like her family has always been the device’s minder. “Of course your training can’t begin until you’re wed. But inside our home, you and Gryphon will share his room. Just like husband and wife.”
I haven’t spoken since I begged for Jonas to be spared. This, finally, jolts my tongue. I will not sleep next to the person who led my brother to the Harvest basket. “Do you think…” My throat is raw from screaming, my voice jagged. “Do you think I could have my own room until the wedding is official?”
Misia smiles, mistaking my concern for modesty. “Well, we only have the two bedrooms upstairs, and we can’t send you back to your old cottage! How would that look? Besides, it’s just a hiccup that you and Gryphon aren’t yet married. We can look the other way, can’t we? For the greater good?”
When I blink, my lids scrape my eyes. My brother’s death is ahiccup?
“I won’t sleep next to Gryphon.” Now that I’ve spoken out once today, it’s coming easier. What more do I have to lose? “Not now. Not ever.”
Misia chuckles. It’s a warm sound, even though her words erase me. “Don’t be silly. Youwillshare a bed with your betrothed. We can’t miss an opportunity to create more little soldiers.”
I was of the Apothecary House. I know how reproduction works, and I have no intention of becoming a broodmare. The Guardians and Farmers are the only ones with more than one cottage dedicated to their trade. They’ll manage just fine without my blessed efforts.
“You must be exhausted.” Misia taps the top of my head with the hairbrush, bringing my focus back into the room. “And it’s too late to eat dinner. Why don’t you give me that dress to clean and you can pop off to bed?”
I grab the front of my gown like it’s a life raft. “I didn’t bring any other clothes.”
After a wedding ceremony, couples are supposed to parade through the village, blessing each villager before reaching the old House of the one leaving, so they can pick up their clothes. Then the pair walks to the new House, swears allegiance, and has the House tattoo inked on their bodies, the only permanent mark allowed inside the Wall. The Guardian symbol is three half-inch horizontal lines below the left eye. Gryphon and I never made that walk. Our faces are bare, my bags still at home. All I have is the red wedding gown on my back and the thin underclothes beneath it.
“I’ll pick up your things tomorrow,” Misia says brightly, holding out her hand. “No need to worry.”
As if she means for me to undress in front of her. In the kitchen!
“Can you show me to my room, please?” I’m surprised by the steadiness of my voice. If she hopes to break me, she’ll have to try harder. Today, grief coats me in its strange steel.
“I suppose you want to see where you’re sleeping,” Misia says after a moment, her eyes narrowed. “This way.”
She begins up the wooden stairs. I glance at the cabinet once more before following her, surprised my heart still beats, that sorrow hasn’t frozen it over. I’ve lost my mother and brother in one afternoon. My feelings for my mother are complicated. My grief for my twin is pure.
Forgive me for letting them take you.
A single, cold comfort penetrates my grief: my own transgression couldn’t have condemned Jonas. If the Council knew I was sneaking medicine to the elderly, my name would’ve been called alongside his. The village really believes he murdered our mother.
The Tzus’ top floor is laid out like my old home but smaller. Where the Apothecary cottage has four bedrooms, in the Tzu house there are only two, one on the left and one on the right. Misia opens the door to our left.
“This was Gryphon’s room. Now it’s yours. Yours and his.”
I step inside. The bedroom is simple. A mattress wide enough for two, but with only one pillow. The bed is crisply made, which brings me the smallest comfort. Gryphon and I are both neat, at least. An end table. A dresser. A wardrobe. A desk.
I feel tears prickling.
Misia hasn’t budged from the doorway. Her face makes clear that she wants the dress. Fine. I’ll be happy to never see the crimson monstrosity again. It reminds me of what I’ve lost. I peel it off and hand it to her, hoping I remove the tiny wooden jackrabbit swiftly enough that she doesn’t notice. My shift is thin, natural linen. I begin shaking, the toy rabbit hidden in my hand.
I can feel Misia appraising me, but I refuse to move until she’s gone. I won’t give her the satisfaction.Let her stare.A tear races down my cheek and lands, hot, on my foot. Another quickly follows, and then another.
Finally, Misia leaves, closing the door behind her.
I scurry to the bed and dive under the quilt. There’ll be no rest tonight.
4
Despite my prediction, sleep creeps up, rolling over my body like a poisoned fog. When a softclickpulls me back to the waking world, it takes an unsettling moment to remember where I am. I blink, turning the solid black into shapes, and then, as my eyes adjust, to details.
