The Sowing

I stare at the nearly drained IV bag still lodged in my vein, imagining that each drip is laced with dread that slowly invades every cell, every artery, in my body until I’m literally burning with anxiety.

What if they suspect what I’ve been up to? What happens to Cole then?

———

The fact that there are two armed Imposers flanking the lift to the observation level when I approach does nothing to neutralize the acid burning through the lining of my stomach. We trade silent salutes, then I enter, taking in a deep breath as the elevator zooms up and stops.

As soon as I step through the parted doors, they slide shut behind me and the light fades up. The entire room is comprised of clear windows that provide a breathtaking, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the entire Parish as the chamber slowly rotates. Above me, a high domed ceiling of glass shifts from a reflective state to a transparent one, revealing an unobstructed view of the gray sky. The horizon is already soaked in a deep orange twilight bruising to a vivid purple. A flurry of snowflakes flutters toward me, and—to my shock—seems to go through the glass and right into the rotunda with me, sprinkling the room as if with a giant, invisible salt shaker.

I hold out my palm. Instead of a few flakes pooling there and giving me the frosty sensation of holding a handful of slush, the flurries go right through my hand, fading away once they reach the floor.

A computerized simulation. How cozy.

“Hello, Lucky.”

The voice freezes me. I turn.

And look Cassius Thorn dead in the face.

He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him—both of us standing on that ramp, his thick auburn hair writhing in the wind. His eyes, which before his recruitment had sparkled like emeralds, were rotted over with reptilian green. He’d pleaded with me then, his hand outstretched, beckoning me to leave Digory to a gruesome, lonely death and join him instead.

I’d almost succumbed, in order to save Cole’s life… almost…

Until I realized that aligning myself with Cassius would only have damned my brother.

“I should have known it was you,” I finally say. My eyes hold his. Cassius is the one that flinches, a millisecond twitch of the cheek that’s gone before I can even blink. He must sense the change in me. Maybe he shouldn’t be here without his trusted bodyguards to protect him. Then again, I’m probably being watched by unseen eyes. This is Cassius, after all.

“You’re looking well. Seems like trainee life agrees with you.” His lips curdle into a thin smile.

And to think there was a time when the thought of those lips against mine—I shove the vile memory back in its niche.

“It’s not like I have much choice in the matter,” I say.

He shakes his head. “That’s not true. There’s always a choice. If memory serves, I seem to remember you making quite a few during the Trials.”

If he’s trying to goad me into an emotional reaction, he’s wasting his time. “What’s so important that it would drive the Prefect himself here? It couldn’t be concern for my health.”

His footfalls gouge a deliberate path across the stone floor until they stop directly behind me. “Despite whatever you may think, you’re always in my thoughts.”

The words are like alcohol poured into a gaping wound. A chuckle escapes my lips. “Is that why you let Ophelia try to kill me after I refused your little offer?” I snap. “Your thoughts don’t seem to be a good thing for my health. Do me a favor and forget I ever existed, Sir.”

His fingers clamp around my shoulders like talons, spinning me to face him. “I was angry. Hurt. I would never have let anyone harm you.”

He’s so close I can feel the hot flecks of his saliva peppering my face. I wipe the offensive matter away with the palm of one hand and prod him in the chest with the index finger of the other, punctuating each word with a jab. “Don’t… touch… me… again… Sir.”

He releases his grip and backs off. “You think you’ve grown so much, but you’re still that same naïve little boy who couldn’t even tie his shoes without my help.” His smoldering features cool into a smile at the memory before turning to stone. “You’re no better than anyone else. No better than I am.”

I sigh. “It’s not about being better, Cassius. It’s about compassion, humanity.” For a second I remember the boy who fed me his scraps even though he was starving, who shielded me from the cold with his own shivering body. Before the Establishment erased him. The muscles in my face become more pliable. “I went through the Trials myself. I know what you experienced and what was taken from you.”

His expression looks wounded. And weary. The silver chain around his neck glints in the light: a pendant bearing two clasped hands. Behind him, the horizon rotates, casting his silhouette in alternating shades of gray and fiery sunset. I spot the banks of Fortune’s River, frozen over now, like my feelings for Cassius. The halo of deep red surrounding him gives way and plunges him into the darkness of night.