Page 73 of The Verdant Cage
Perhaps she wanted to test her theory before revealing the truth. That would make sense. She’d want to be certain before accusing Jarek. Did she have any guesses as to why he did it?
I sniff. If she did, they might be in her journal.
I open it at the beginning, searching for a missed clue, anything out of place that I might have overlooked. My mind wanders as I scour the text. For all her suspicions, my mother still followed the old rules, the unwritten ones that tell us to keep quiet about things that make folks uncomfortable. She raised me to skate on the surface, sticking to pleasantries. It was that village-wide denial that allowed all this unhappiness and inequality to fester and grow.
The candle burns down as I turn pages, reading and rereading.
I uncover no new information, try as I might. Finally, when my eyes grow too heavy to read, I close the journal, my fingers trailing across the leather. I slip it back under the mattress and blow out the candle moments before it’s bound to go out on its own. I lay across the bed, working at the puzzle of what we’re up against until sleep takes me.
.
I’m awoken sometime later by a rustling from below. “Gryphon?” I ask.
I hear an intake of breath near the floor and figure that’s the only response I’ll get from him, but after several beats, he whispers, “Yeah?”
I hesitate. But then, picturing him gently carrying Gran home this evening, I decide to take a leap of faith. “Jonas saw something in the Record Keeper vault the morning he was Harvested. He was trying to tell me about it, but I was too…”
“Too busy being forced to marry me?” He sounds weary. Not just “woken up” weary, either. Exhausted.
“Something like that,” I say, because it’s close enough. He doesn’t need to know the specifics, that I’d nearly vomited. I peer over the edge of the bed. “He…didn’t get a chance to tell me what he saw down there, but whatever it was, I think it affects us all.”
Gryphon props himself on an elbow. It’s nearly a full moon tonight, so I can see the look of rapt attention he’s giving me. “Like what?” he asks.
I sit up, pulling the blanket around me. “I don’t know, but what Jarek said about the Record Keepers’ knowledge at dinner tonight makes me wonder if they’re connected.” I don’t tell Gryphon what Reatha has told me—don’t mention the poison, either. I still don’t know if I can trust him fully.
“Have you asked to look inside the vault?”
I can’t tell if he’s mocking me. “Of course I have. Marina denied Jonas was even there that day. Simon at least confirmed Jonas saw something he shouldn’t have, but he wouldn’t take me down, either. The cellar door is locked. I assume that’s the key Marina’s wearing.”
He lies back down, crossing his hands behind his head.
I lean forward. “Do you know what your mom and dad have planned?”
Gryphon shakes his head, his voice sounding like two rocks scraping together. “My father doesn’t share his plans with me.” He’s quiet for a moment. “If he means to hurt others, will you fight him?”
“Of course,” I say, without hesitation.
Silence spools between us. I can smell the pine scent of him, hear his steady breathing. I think I’m prepared for anything he’ll say next, when he murmurs, “I won’t allow it.”
I snort. “It’s not up to you.”
“We shall see.” He stares up at the ceiling. “What were your parents like? At home, I mean.”
The change of subject catches me off guard, but the clean sorrow it brings is almost a relief. I recline on the bed, subconsciously mirroring Gryphon’s position. “Dad was a book nerd like Jonas. They spent a lot of time reading by the fire. And he loved bugs—our neighbors would call on him when there was a spider to be caught and released.” I suspect he came from the Insect Farmer House, but of course we never talked about that. “And Mom? She was something special, as you know. A genius with plants and potions, and a caregiver with the gentlest touch.”
“Like you.” His voice is thoughtful.
“I suppose.” I wonder why my skin feels hot. “Only better, I think. Better with people, at least.”
A bright memory appears behind my eyes. It makes me smile.
“Dad planned a party for her once,” I say. “She’d had a difficult week. A respiratory virus was sweeping through the Valley, and Mom was the only one who could soothe the sick babies. She was averaging two or three hours of sleep per night, so Dad decided we’d let her know what she meant to us. And not just those of us in the Apothecary House, but villagers, too.” I adjust my position on the bed. “He baked her favorite lavender cakes, invited everyone who was free, and had us hide in the living room. When Mom walked through the door, we all jumped out and said, ‘Surprise!’ Except for Jonas. We were only five, and he had a speech impediment back then. He yelled, ‘Per-pise!’”
I’m tracing the seam of the bedsheet, recalling my twin as a little boy and trying to hold my heart together with hope and spit, when I remember something shocking.Jarek had been there. At the party. I thought he’d never visited, not other than the time he mentioned. But I’d been wrong.
“Do you think our parents were ever friends?” I ask.
Gryphon blows air out his nose. “You know my father loved your mother. He didn’t try to hide it.”
