Page 156 of Because I Killed Him
“You’re less alone in that than you think.” His tone is unexpectedly understanding, as if, beneath the cold machinery of rank, he’s convinced we’re not as different as I claim. “Lies and secrets are currency for high-citizens. We trade in them. And yeah—I’ve got my share. But they don’t stay quiet forever. Hold onto them too long, and they’ll turn on you.”
I fall silent, wondering if he’s referring to his mother’s abuse. But there’s no bitterness in his expression, only an edge of regret, so I’m sure he’s talking about something else.
Outside, the Moonshine Mile unfurls in a wash of neon. Our hovercar coasts past buildings frosted like cakes, past the violet glow of the Lotus Lounge, where lotus flowers twist around marble columns, blooming onlywhen the club is open. A little farther on, we stop beside the stables, where Charlotte, Jack, and Dickie are already waiting.
I turn back to Edmund. He’s leaning under the ceiling light, squinting as he shapes the last petal and straightens the end into a stem.
“If that’s what you really believe,” I say quietly, “why not share all your secrets with me, then?”
His shoulders stiffen, as if I’ve pulled the one thread I shouldn’t. His eyes lift to mine, conflicted. “You sure you want that?”
I tighten my grip on the champagne bottle’s neck, pushing past the warning in my head. “One secret, yes. One answer.”
“All right.”
Edmund holds the flower toward me. It’s a daffodil, impossibly detailed for something twisted from a champagne cork wire in only a few minutes. The petals spread in thin, delicate curves, and the corona at the center flares just enough to mimic the real flower.
I smile and set down the champagne bottle.
“Well?” he asks.
“Daffodils are my favorite.”
“I know.”
He reaches across the seat, his fingers brushing mine as he places the wire daffodil in my palm. The touch feels as warm as desert wind, coursing up my arms and down my legs until it hurts to hold it in. I barely notice Dickie’s muffled voice cutting through the window.
“Hurry it up already. Waiting on you two is like trying to herd snails.”
Edmund draws his hand back slowly, his fist tightening at his side as if he needs the force to ground himself. “Go on. Ask me. I won’t lie.”
I clamp my arms across my chest, feeling as if my heart might spill out otherwise. But it hides nothing. He already hears the strain in my breath.
“Edmund… Why are you breaking all your rules?”
“Which rules?”
“That we’re not supposed to be alone. You said it more than once. And yet, these past weeks, it’s like you’ve been finding ways for it to be just us.”
He nods, unapologetic. “You’re right. I have.”
I meet his eyes, and the air between us shivers. “And what about touching me? That was your rule, too. A rule you break every day.And I wish—” My voice cracks as if it were torn on my teeth. “Edmund, can’t you see? It’s hard enough just being near you. Why are you making it worse?”
His eyes drift over my face, as if what’s unbearable isn’t the closeness but the distance. He leans forward, ready to answer, when Dickie raps impatiently against the window. Irritation cuts across Edmund’s expression. He waves Dickie off, then turns back to me. “I’ll tell you. But not here.”
“Then where?”
“Later,” he says quietly. “We’ll break off from the others.”
His hand closes around the door handle, then stills. He glances back, and in his eyes, I see the promise to be careful, as if he knows that, like the wire daffodil he gave me, I wouldn’t survive a fall to the floor.
The stables echo with the crack of riding crops as high-citizens mount their massive, muscle-bound horses, which snort and paw the ground like beasts bred to run with lions. The Blues’ gazes skim over anyone too short or too small to meet their eye level, so hardly anyone notices me as I pass. Their attention gathers instead around Edmund.
He moves effortlessly among them, greeting Blues by name and shaking hands, his smile bright and open. Someone asks him to join their riding group; Edmund declines with an apology, promising to make it up to them by inviting them to a party in his suite. Another Blue leans in to catch what Edmund says, then laughs and replies, “I’ve risked broken bones for less.”
I slip the wire daffodil into my jacket pocket with a shaky hand, still recovering from the conversation in the hovercar, then join Charlotte by her horse. The stables are crowded tonight, overbooked, so only three mounts are available. Jack volunteers to take his hoverbike, while Dickie’s Pinkie chaperone remains on its hoverboard, and Dickie himself wriggles onto the back of Charlotte’s horse.
“Do stop squeezing me like that, Mr. Langely,” she huffs. “I am not one of your video game controllers.”
