I ate a quiet breakfast on my own, avoiding the whispers and furtive looks from the other people gathered for their morning meal. Officially my mission to find a route out of Lethe was secret, but the people here were no better than the kids I went to school with. There were rumors flying everywhere, and they all knew it had something to do with me.
I expected the others to be waiting there, and I braced myself for a tense send-off I didn’t want. This mission could mean everything for these people living on the fringes of the city—it could mean a way out. Freedom. The pressure was monumental, and I knew that seeing all those expectant faces would only make it worse.
When I got to the door, though, there was only Wesley. No sign of Marco or Parker or Olivia—and no sign either of Oren. I tried to ignore the unexpected stab of disappointment at that. Popular opinion among those in on the plan was that I was not coming back from this. I was relieved not to have to deal with anyone else, but Oren hadn’t even come to say goodbye.
Wesley smiled at me as I approached, but it was a grim sort of smile. “Ready, Lark?”
I nodded, searching for my voice. The last thing I wanted was to sound as frightened as I was. “Ready,” I replied firmly.
“I thought you might prefer to slip out quietly,” Wesley said drily. “Everyone else thinks you’re leaving in an hour.”
That made me smile. Wesley had gotten to know me pretty well through our training sessions. Because it was a relief, especially now that I knew the reason Oren wasn’t there. I drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for everything,” I said awkwardly.
Wesley waved a hand. “No need for that. We’ll be the ones thanking you if you can get this done.”
“If I can find a way to the surface, do you think the Renewables will all leave? What will happen then to the rebels without magic, like Olivia?” Like Oren.
Wesley shifted his weight from foot to foot, turning his gaze on the door leading out into the city. “I can’t speak for anyone else,” he said finally, resting his hand on the crude but effective mechanism locking the door from the inside. “I know what my choice would be, though.”
I glanced from his hand to his face, which showed a strange kind of pride as he gazed at the place the rebels had built. The place my brother had built.
“What if I hurt someone?” The words came out in a rush, easier to say here in the quiet and the gloom. “What if I kill someone again?”
Wesley let his hand fall and turned to face me. “Then you kill someone,” he said shortly. “But you’re strong. And stronger now than you were when you first came here. You know how much power a person needs to keep breathing, to keep his heart beating. It’s in you to kill, but it’s also in you to preserve life.”
I swallowed. I didn’t feel any different, and I certainly didn’t feel any stronger. All that had changed was that I’d gained an intimate understanding of just how I killed that man. Then it had been instinctive. Now I knew how it worked.
Wesley reached for my hand. I tried to jerk it back as I felt the familiar hunger rise at his touch, felt the warm tingle of power trying to flow from him to me—but he held on, his grip tight. “What I’ve taught you won’t prevent you from killing anyone, Lark. All I’ve done is teach you enough that it becomes a choice. What you choose is up to you.”
His eyes met mine for a long moment as I struggled against the urge to siphon away some of his magic.
Surely a little wouldn’t hurt him. Just a tiny bit, he wouldn’t even notice . . .
“You can go ahead, if you want.” Wesley’s voice was low, and abruptly I realized that avoiding a scene might not have been his only reason for making his farewell in private. “I trust you to stop before you hurt me.”
I gazed at him, my vision blurring as I fought the hunger. It made sense to refill my reservoir of magic before I left, in case I needed it on the journey. It made sense to try it here, now, when there was help close at hand if something went wrong. It was the logical thing to do.
But I could feel the hunger, too dark and too deep—and this time when I yanked my hand away, Wesley let me go. His expression flickered briefly, and though I might have imagined it, he looked almost disappointed. I’d failed his test.
“No,” I gasped, rubbing my palm against my shirt as if trying to scrub away the intensity of the hunger. “I can’t, not yet.”
Wesley waited, scanning my features, but ultimately nodded. He turned for the door again, this time to send a pulse of magic through the mechanism to set it clanking and whirring, unbarring the door.
“Good luck, then, Lark,” said Wesley, running the hand that had been holding mine over his balding scalp. I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like for him, on the other end of my hungry power. I imagined it was like standing on the edge of some dark, shadowy abyss.
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak, and stepped through the doorway. It was the same entrance we’d come through that first day, letting me out into the city alongside Central Processing. I could hear the calls of the merchants hawking their wares in the marketplace just around the corner, and when I lifted my face, the fine mist raining down from the ceiling sprinkled my cheeks.
A familiar voice cried out, echoing in the tunnels. “Lark! Lark, wait—”
It was Oren. I whirled in time to see the door slam closed, the locking mechanism clanking back into place. Then there was a loud clang—I winced. It was the sound of Oren’s body hitting the inside of the door. I could still hear him shouting, though the sound was muffled now by the layers of bronze and iron between us.
“Lark—damn it, Wesley, open the door! I’m not letting her go without—open this door.”
Wesley’s reply was too quiet and muffled for me to hear it, but whatever it was, the door stayed locked. I heard Oren bang on it once, twice—I could hear him tearing at the mechanism, trying to figure out how to open it without magic. “Lark—can you hear me? Are you there?”
Part of me wanted to shout back, to tell him I was all right and that I could do this alone, that I didn’t need him. But if I shouted here, someone in the marketplace, or in CeePo, might hear me. I couldn’t attract any attention to the door.
I pressed my palm against its surface, silently willing Oren to just let me go.
Another clang, softer this time. I imagined his fist hitting metal. “Be careful,” came his voice. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but I could still hear him—he must’ve been speaking directly into the metal. “Come back safe.”
I stepped away from the door and out toward the marketplace and the city, breathing deep. I was alone.
CHAPTER 18
Despite the city folk all around, it was the first time I’d been alone—truly alone—since I’d first crossed the Wall, back when I left my home city. That girl would’ve hardly recognized me now. Though my heart was pounding and my every sense on the alert for anyone paying me more attention than they should, my steps felt surer than they had for a long time. There was no turning back. This was my mission, and no one had manipulated me into it.
I did my best to avoid eye contact with anyone in a uniform. There was still a chance someone might recognize me as Oren’s companion.