Luke nodded. “Even in a thousand years, I want people to know that it belonged to you.” He pressed his finger against the locket, pushing the metal against her skin. “Now you just have to fill it with your own memories.”
Glass smiled. “I know what memory I want to start with.” She looked up, expecting to see Luke roll his eyes, but his face was serious. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the flat was silent except for the sound of their beating hearts.
“Are you sure?” Luke asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he ran a finger along the inside of her arm.
“More sure than I’ve been of anything in my life.”
Luke took Glass’s hand, and a current of electricity shot through her. He squeezed his fingers around hers and, without a word, led her toward his bedroom. Of course he’d traded it, Glass told herself. It’d be ridiculous to keep such a valuable item, especially after she’d broken his heart. Yet the thought of her discarded necklace languishing alone in the Exchange unleashed a pang of grief that threatened to rip her heart in two. A prickle on the back of her neck pulled Glass from her thoughts. She braced herself, expecting to see another vague acquaintance staring at her with open suspicion. But when she turned around, her eyes landed on someone else entirely.
Luke.
He stared at her just long enough for Glass to blush, then broke away as his eyes flitted toward the table. An odd expression crossed his face as his gaze landed on the necklace. “I’m surprised no one’s snatched it up yet,” he said quietly. “It’s so beautiful.” His arm dropped back to his side, and he turned around to give her a small, sad smile. “But then again, the beautiful ones can hurt you the most.”
“Luke,” Glass began, “I—” But then she noticed a familiar figure behind Luke. Camille stood behind the counter of the paper texts stall, her eyes fixed on Glass.
Luke glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to Glass. “Camille’s covering for her father. He’s been sick.”
“I’m sorry,” Glass said. But before she had time to say anything else, she was distracted by the sound of raised voices.
Glass turned and saw Cora shouting at the Walden woman. “If you refuse to charge me a reasonable price, then I’ll have no choice but to report you for fraud.” The woman paled and said something Glass couldn’t hear, but apparently, it was to Cora’s liking, because she smiled a k shn two. A nd held her thumb up to be scanned.
Glass grimaced, embarrassed by her friend’s behavior. “Sorry—I should go.”
“Don’t,” Luke pleaded, touching her arm. “I’ve been worried about you.” He lowered his voice. “What are you doing here? Is it safe?”
The concern in his voice filled some of the smaller cracks in her battered heart, but not enough to make the pain go away. “It’s safe. I was pardoned, actually,” Glass said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.
“Pardoned?” His eyes widened. “Wow. I never thought… That’s incredible.” He paused, as if unsure how to go on. “You know, you never told me why you were Confined in the first place.”
Glass cast her eyes toward the ground, fighting an overwhelming urge to tell Luke the truth. He deserves to be happy, she reminded herself firmly. Hes not yours anymore.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “I just want to put it all behind me.”
Luke stared at her, and for a moment Glass wondered if he could see straight through her. “Well, take care of yourself,” he said finally.
Glass nodded. “I will.” She knew she was doing the right thing, for once. She just wished it didn’t hurt so much.
12
Clarke
Clarke sat in the dark infirmary tent, watching nervously as Thalia tossed and turned in her sleep, restless from the fever that set in as the infection grew worse.
“What do you think she’s dreaming about?”
Clarke turned and saw Octavia sitting up, staring at Thalia wide-eyed.
“I’m not sure,” Clarke lied. From the expression on Thalia’s face, Clarke could tell she was thinking about her father again. She’d been Confined for trying to steal medicine after the Council had weighed against treating him; with limited medical supplies, they’d deemed his prospects too grim to be worth the resources. Thalia still didn’t know what h a p p e n e d to him—whether he’d succumbed to his disease after her arrest, or whether he was still clinging to life, praying that he’d get to see his daughter again someday.
Thalia moaned and curled into a ball, reminding Clarke of Lilly on one of her bad nights, when Clarke would sneak into the lab so her friend wouldn’t have to be alone. Although no one was keeping Clarke from helping Thalia, she felt just as frantic, just as helpless. Unless they found the medicine that had been flung from the dropship, there was nothing she could do to ease her suffering.
The flap flew open, flooding the tent with light and cool, pungent air, and Bellamy tumbled in. He had a bow slung over his shoulder, and his eyes were bright. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a grin as he strode over to Octavia’s cot. He stooped down to ruffle her hair, which was still secured with a neatly tied red ribbon. He was close enough that Clarke couldn’t help but notice the faint smell of sweat clinging to his skin, blending with another scent she couldn’t identify but that made her think of trees.
“How’s the ankle?” he asked Octavia, making an exaggerated show of squinting and examining it from all angles.
She flexed it gingerly. exed it kMuch better.” She turned to Clarke. “Am I ready to leave yet?”
Clarke hesitated. Octavia’s ankle was still fragile, and there was no way of making an effective brace. If she put too much pressure on it, she’d sprain it all over again, or worse.
Octavia sighed, then stuck her bottom lip out in a pleading expression. “Please? I didn’t come all the way to Earth to sit in a tent.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Bellamy said. “But I certainly didn’t risk my ass coming here just to watch you get gangrene.”
“How do you know about gangrene?” Clarke asked, surprised. No one would ever have developed that kind of infection back on the Colony, and she doubted many other people read ancient medical texts for fun.
“You disappoint me, Doctor.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for one of those.”
“One of those what?”
“One of those Phoenicians who assume all Waldenites are illiterate.”
Octavia rolled her eyes as she turned to Bellamy. “Not everything is an insult, you know.”
Bellamy opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and folded his lips into a smirk. “You better watch it, or I’ll leave without you.” He adjusted the bow on his shoulder.
“Don’t leave me,” she said, suddenly serious. “You know how I feel about being trapped inside.”
A strange expression flashed across Bellamy’s face, and Clarke wondered what he was thinking about. Finally, he smiled. “Okay.
I’ll take you outside, but just for a little bit. I want to try hunting again before it gets dark.” He turned to Clarke. “That is, if the doctor says it’s okay.” Clarke nodded. “Just be careful.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Do you really think you’ll be able to hunt?” No one had seen a mammal yet, let alone tried to kill one.
“Someone has to. Our nutrition packs won’t last a week at the rate they’re going.”
She gave him a small smile. “Well, best of luck.” Clarke walked over to Octavia’s cot and helped Bellamy lift her to her feet.
“I’m fine,” Octavia said, balancing on one foot as she clutched Bellamy’s arm. She hopped forward, pulling him toward the flap. “Let’s go!”