leans in a
little, and I hold my breath, finding his presence overwhelming. “I
want to help you because I don’t think it’s right that you should
be the victim of a man like Master Douglas. He used to work for my
father as his deputy advisor and I saw him destroy girls like you.
But I have to tell you, to continue on this path is
suicide.”
“ You don’t know what I’m
capable of.” I stare boldly back at him—I won’t be treated like a
subservient any longer.
“ It doesn’t matter; I know
what the obstacles are made of.” He runs a hand through his thick,
dark hair and his cologne stirs into the air. A privileged
individual like him would never understand the desperate
circumstances that forced me to do something like this. He breathes
heavily for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is low.
“How did you get in trouble?”
I might as well tell him everything. “It was
like Master Douglas said. I helped Gemma escape because he was
beating her up…I couldn’t just leave her there.”
He pauses for a moment, and it feels like
his deep eyes see right through me. “Of course you couldn’t.”
He agrees with me? I’m not used to someone
validating me and don’t quite know how to respond, so I look out
the window.
“ There must be some…” he
starts.
I place my hand on his arm, and it’s as if
the tension in the air surrenders. “I’m not asking you to help me.
All I’m asking is that you keep my secret.”
His gaze goes from my hand to my eyes. “You
don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“ I’ll take my chances,” I
say, although having learned that the obstacles are more dangerous
than I initially thought, I’m not as confident as I was just a few
hours ago. And with Gemma dead…I stop myself from finishing that
thought. Nothing good will come of it.
“ Fine, I’ll let you
continue. And I’ll keep your secret. I just hate to see you give up
your life so easily.”
So easily? He doesn’t know me—how
exhaustingly obstinate I can be once I put my mind to something.
“Thanks.”
“ Maybe I can help coach you
a little, and...” He shakes his head without completing the thought
and commands the transporter to the airport.
Chapter 5
The airport runway is crawling with
reporters and curious citizens. The protesters are here, chanting
that same chant as loudly as ever. I’m surprised President Volkov
hasn’t had them arrested yet.
I wipe my hands on my silky pants and close
my eyes, trying to think of something that might calm me. When no
such thought emerges, I reopen my eyes. The vehicle slows down and
forces its way through the crowd. People plaster their faces
against the transporter’s windows as we pass.
Mai stands on a platform in front of the
red, white, and yellow Savage Run aircraft. Is it the same one I
saw earlier today up at Master Douglas’s house? I wonder how Mai
managed to get here before us because when we left Pavlova Yard,
she was still packing up all the registration forms.
Eighteen participants are lined up behind
Mai. Seeing how some of their necks are as thick as tree trunks,
their arms as broad as my waist, it causes me to shrink in my seat.
Arthor is one of the strongest Laborers I’ve met, but he looks like
a wiry twig next to some of these guys. I don’t even want to
imagine what I’ll look like beside one of them. Other than Arthor
and me, the rest of the participants look like they’re Advisors—a
Laborer would never receive enough food to grow those kinds of
muscles.
At first thought, it doesn’t make sense to
me why a Class-2 Advisor would risk death when his life is already
pretty good. I suppose if I were an Advisor, I’d still feel trapped
by not being able to own land, to vote, or to run for office.
One second. That’s exactly how long it takes
the reporters to swivel around after Nicholas has stepped out of
the transporter. But he doesn’t even blink an eye, just walks
calmly around
little, and I hold my breath, finding his presence overwhelming. “I
want to help you because I don’t think it’s right that you should
be the victim of a man like Master Douglas. He used to work for my
father as his deputy advisor and I saw him destroy girls like you.
But I have to tell you, to continue on this path is
suicide.”
“ You don’t know what I’m
capable of.” I stare boldly back at him—I won’t be treated like a
subservient any longer.
“ It doesn’t matter; I know
what the obstacles are made of.” He runs a hand through his thick,
dark hair and his cologne stirs into the air. A privileged
individual like him would never understand the desperate
circumstances that forced me to do something like this. He breathes
heavily for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is low.
“How did you get in trouble?”
I might as well tell him everything. “It was
like Master Douglas said. I helped Gemma escape because he was
beating her up…I couldn’t just leave her there.”
He pauses for a moment, and it feels like
his deep eyes see right through me. “Of course you couldn’t.”
He agrees with me? I’m not used to someone
validating me and don’t quite know how to respond, so I look out
the window.
“ There must be some…” he
starts.
I place my hand on his arm, and it’s as if
the tension in the air surrenders. “I’m not asking you to help me.
All I’m asking is that you keep my secret.”
His gaze goes from my hand to my eyes. “You
don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“ I’ll take my chances,” I
say, although having learned that the obstacles are more dangerous
than I initially thought, I’m not as confident as I was just a few
hours ago. And with Gemma dead…I stop myself from finishing that
thought. Nothing good will come of it.
“ Fine, I’ll let you
continue. And I’ll keep your secret. I just hate to see you give up
your life so easily.”
So easily? He doesn’t know me—how
exhaustingly obstinate I can be once I put my mind to something.
“Thanks.”
“ Maybe I can help coach you
a little, and...” He shakes his head without completing the thought
and commands the transporter to the airport.
Chapter 5
The airport runway is crawling with
reporters and curious citizens. The protesters are here, chanting
that same chant as loudly as ever. I’m surprised President Volkov
hasn’t had them arrested yet.
I wipe my hands on my silky pants and close
my eyes, trying to think of something that might calm me. When no
such thought emerges, I reopen my eyes. The vehicle slows down and
forces its way through the crowd. People plaster their faces
against the transporter’s windows as we pass.
Mai stands on a platform in front of the
red, white, and yellow Savage Run aircraft. Is it the same one I
saw earlier today up at Master Douglas’s house? I wonder how Mai
managed to get here before us because when we left Pavlova Yard,
she was still packing up all the registration forms.
Eighteen participants are lined up behind
Mai. Seeing how some of their necks are as thick as tree trunks,
their arms as broad as my waist, it causes me to shrink in my seat.
Arthor is one of the strongest Laborers I’ve met, but he looks like
a wiry twig next to some of these guys. I don’t even want to
imagine what I’ll look like beside one of them. Other than Arthor
and me, the rest of the participants look like they’re Advisors—a
Laborer would never receive enough food to grow those kinds of
muscles.
At first thought, it doesn’t make sense to
me why a Class-2 Advisor would risk death when his life is already
pretty good. I suppose if I were an Advisor, I’d still feel trapped
by not being able to own land, to vote, or to run for office.
One second. That’s exactly how long it takes
the reporters to swivel around after Nicholas has stepped out of
the transporter. But he doesn’t even blink an eye, just walks
calmly around
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