Finding You, Page 20

  But will he help us? I let out a long breath. “So what do you plan to do? We can’t leave Lillian to—”

  “Our rebellion is nearly ready to soar,” Alistair says, leaning forward and cutting me off excitedly. “Our troops have rallied in Kingston and Adderly, and I am told that we could now attack. At this stage, it looks as if we don’t need Curram’s supplies any longer.”

  “Just like that?” I frown. “A day ago you told me he was next to essential. That our problems weren’t important enough.” Next to me, Phoebe crosses her arms.

  “I didn’t have the reports from Kingston and Adderly when we spoke,” he answers, reining in his excitement and sitting back slightly. “And Harlen wasn’t convinced that our mismatched army of deserters was ready to take an entire city.” Anger flashes across his face, but he schools it back, grinding his teeth. “And to be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t appreciate Curram’s manservant waltzing into my headquarters feeling that he could make demands within my jurisdiction.” There it is, that’s what’s really bothering him. “We have no use in a new government for an arrogant man whose loyalty can be bought for a handful of gold. You see my dilemma.”

  Phoebe guffaws. “Now you want to get rid of Curram. I don’t see how that’s a dilemma.”

  “He has powerful connections, and those benefited us not only in the weapons market. If I disavow him with the rest of Carr’s government at the end of all this, I’ll sabotage myself. Curram’s friends will come to his aid, or call him a martyr and refuse to support me when it’s important. The last thing I need is a mutiny within this revolution. I cannot be responsible for Curram’s death, not in the eyes of the public.” He watches me again for a moment, trying to read my thoughts. “The choice is entirely yours, Isla. Would you like to take Curram up on his offer of a trade?”

  Phoebe makes a startled noise, and my mouth drops open. “You don’t mean—”

  “We could make a show of it. He knows war is coming; he’s holed up in his manor at the moment. But he wants you. He’ll open his doors to get you back. I’d send two of my men to escort you, and the trade would occur at night when there’s less chance of a servant witnessing what happens. Once your friend’s sister is secured, my men will see to Curram. Though they can make it as painful as you say.”

  Curram’s life, in my hands. “What if something goes wrong? What if he doesn’t have Lillian, and it’s a trap?”

  “That’s a possibility. He may be arrogant enough to believe himself an integral part of the rebellion, but he’s not a fool. He must see all of the angles. If he mistrusts me already, I cannot send a dozen men to make a simple exchange. He’ll never let them in the door. If he’s expecting foul play, it could be dangerous.”

  I’ll just have to come up with a contingency plan of my own, then.

  Me, going back to Curram. I suppose that was bound to happen if I wanted justice. But the thought of setting foot in his house again makes my head swim. What if I don’t escape this time? What if he keeps me, in place of Lillian? I feel clammy. But those girls, those nameless girls: Who will avenge them if I don’t?

  I swallow. “Could I choose one of the soldiers, so that—”

  “The army is Harlen’s jurisdiction. These would be my own men, not soldiers. I’m sorry, but this job calls for a particular skill set.”

  “And what about Boyne?” Alistair’s brow furrows at my question.

  “Once Curram is dead, my men will find him and secure him. He’ll have his master’s information, but none of his dangerous social status. Don’t worry about him. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  I shift back and forth on my feet, feeling Phoebe’s eyes on me, and glance around at the moth-eaten drapes and cracking walls. For all those girls who didn’t make it out, whose fates still hang in the air, unfinished. “I’ll have an answer for you by the morning,” I say.

  twenty-four

  “We can’t tell Des,” I say to Phoebe as we leave the fortress behind and make our way back toward the camp. “If Curram is lying about Lillian, it’ll crush him.”

  “So you’re going to do it,” Phoebe says, not looking at me.

  “Do you think I shouldn’t?”

  “I didn’t say that. I think it’s the best chance we’re going to get at this point. Unless Curram is stopped now, his power will only grow. At least this way we’re not on our own.”

  * * *

  We find the others sitting around the fire where we had breakfast. “Boyne’s gone,” I say when I’m met with relief on every face at my arrival. “We don’t have to worry about him. Alistair has changed his mind and has a plan to do away with Curram after all.”

  “He’s Alistair now?” Des snaps, startling me. “Since when did the two of you get to be so chummy?”

  “I understand that you don’t trust him—”

  “And you do? You saw it yourself, he works with Curram. However he managed to win you over, it’s just manipulation, take my word for it. These powerful men are all the same, Isla. Swain, Curram—”

  “Alistair is not Curram,” I say.

  “Just be careful with him, all right?”

  “I can handle myself, Des.” My head aches, and I shut my eyes for a moment.

  “Did Alistair tell you how he’s going to handle Curram?” Valentina ventures quietly.

  I brace myself for the backlash. “He wants me to act as a decoy, as a show of faith. Alistair’s men will bring me to Curram’s manor, and once we’re inside, they’ll kill him.” Val’s eyes are wider than ever, and Des looks angry. “That’s what Boyne came here about,” I hasten to add. “Curram is still looking for us, for me.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Des says, shaking his head and refusing to look at me.

  “Did you agree to it?” Marion asks.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Des answers for me. “She wouldn’t be so stupid.”

  “What choice do I have?” I say.

  “As long as the bastard’s dead, what does it matter how?” Phoebe adds. “I’m not sure I trust Swain myself, but at the moment, at least, we want the same thing.”

  “What if he’s just using you?” Val asks, glancing between us all, her brow furrowed.

  “I’m sure he is,” I say.

  Des throws his hands in the air. “And you’re all right with that?”

  “We’re using each other! He didn’t want to help us until it benefited him, and I can’t risk going back to Curram without protection. We’re both winning, Des!”

  He rakes his hands angrily through his hair. “Tell me what Swain told you. Did you already agree to go? What exactly is his plan for using you as bait and not getting you killed somehow?”

  “I—” I start, and Des stares at me, his eyes wide.

  “You’re not even thinking about it. You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” He gets to his feet, stands right in front of me, and shakes his head disbelievingly. “You’re free, Isla. You’re free. You’ve risked your life enough. Let Swain find someone else to do his dirty work.”

  “I should have killed Curram the night we left!” I shout at him, feeling like I’ll cry. “For all we know, he’s already got another cartload of girls in his cellar, and that’s my fault. I had the chance to put an end to his atrocities and I didn’t, Des, I didn’t. That’s on me.” He takes my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

  “But it’s not safe,” he pleads, his eyes impossibly pained. “I can’t tell you not to feel guilty. I haven’t figured it out myself. But I can’t let you go back there. I can’t let you die.”

  “Hey,” I say, not breaking eye contact. “None of us will have to feel guilty after we beat him, right?” I want to tell Des about Lillian; the words are ready to overflow, but I hold them back.

  “Bad timing?” says a voice, and I turn to see Tam standing a few feet away, looking flushed.

  Des drops his hands, and I try to stutter an answer, but Tam strides off without another
word.

  “Tam!” I shout, racing after him and trying to picture what he saw. “Tam!” I catch up, but he doesn’t stop until I move in front of him and put out my hands. “Wait, Tam.” He stares at me for a moment while I catch my breath, hurt or anger in his eyes, or both. “I need to tell you something,” I say, trying to take his hands.

  He pulls back, taking a step away from me. “I don’t think I really want to hear, all right?”

  “Tam, I—”

  “How long have you even known him? Your”—his throat catches—“your ‘friend’?”

  “Only since just after you left, he’s—”

  “Huh. You seem awfully close already.”

  “He’s just being protective.”

  “Right, yeah.” Tam looks around, refusing to meet my eyes. “I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.”

  “You can. I mean, there’s nothing I don’t—”

  “Look, you don’t need to explain yourself, or whatever. I know I was gone.”

  “Tam, it’s not what you think.”

  “I have to go, Isla,” he says, looking above my head.

  Everything. I have to tell him everything. He won’t understand my new friends, my new scars until I do.

  “Please,” I try again, and he looks down at me, impatient.

  I falter for a second. I don’t know where to start, so I let my thoughts spill out and hope that Tam will sort them out on his own. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you yet, because I didn’t want anything to change between us, and I was afraid you would see me differently or wish I hadn’t told you, or that, I don’t know, you wouldn’t want me to change. But I need you to listen to me for a couple of minutes, all right?”

  He doesn’t answer, and nervousness floods my thoughts. I don’t have the words that I need. I don’t know how to say that I was kidnapped and sold, that I was somebody’s property and that I felt like I was as good as dead for all that time Tam was gone.

  So I take out the locket instead.

  “This,” I choke, holding it out to him. He clenches his jaw, suddenly angry, and I don’t know why, so I press on, panicking. “It’s about this locket, in a way—”

  “I can’t believe you still have it,” he cuts me off, drily. “I lost mine right after I left.”

  I feel like I’m falling.

  He looks around, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and gradually I become aware of the breeze snaking up my dress and sending a chill through me, and how neither of us is speaking any longer. How … how could he? No, how could I? How could I think he meant so much by giving the locket to me? Does he still have the spyglass I gave him? I don’t think I want to know.

  “It was just a trinket,” he says, making it worse with every word. “Cost me a couple of pennies, Isla. Don’t make it mean something it doesn’t.”

  I fought to keep this, I want to tell him, clenching the locket until my fingers burn. I want to yell the words in his face. I’m still holding the locket out to him as if he’ll take it, as if something will change. It meant everything to me.

  But he doesn’t take it; he isn’t even looking at me any longer. I take a step back, and then another, leaving him where he’s standing. What just happened? What am I supposed to think now, supposed to feel? I stumble through the trees, hardly caring where I’m going. I wonder if Tam is watching me go, or if he has already rejoined his friends. I don’t look back, because part of me wants to believe he’s watching, that he regrets what he said, and that he’ll come find me and apologize.

  But if what he said is true, whispers a voice in my head, what does regret matter?

  Uphill. That’s all I know. Up to my library, to peace and quiet and a dark hiding place where no one will look for me. Even though the trek feels steeper and longer than ever, I refuse to stop, despite the smell of the ocean and the sounds of the gulls calling to me beyond the fortress. But when I reach the library and its window seat, all my energy drains away. I cry long, ugly tears onto the books that haven’t been touched since Tam found me here, my sobs echoing around the empty room. Why do I have to care so much? I ask the voices in my head, but they’re gone now that I need comfort. Why did I have to be so sure that he felt the same way I did? Why does it have to hurt so much that he doesn’t? What does it mean for tomorrow, and the day after?

  I try to distract myself with the books, as the light begins to fade and my stomach growls for supper, but it’s no good. I don’t care about the fishermen who climb the cliffs to harvest abalone from the rock face. I don’t care that fifty years ago, I could tell an entire room what I was feeling by batting my fan either more or less rapidly. I don’t even care about the knight saving the girl from her murderous fiancé and their happily ever after. I’m half convinced she’d be happier in the long run if she just saved herself and kept the knight out of the picture entirely.

  * * *

  I wake when the sun rises, straightening my dress and rubbing dried tears from the corners of my eyes. I’ve survived worse than a broken heart, I tell myself, even though it doesn’t feel like the truth. I’m still holding the locket, but I don’t want to look at it. I tuck it into my pocket, until I can decide what to do with it. I walk in circles around the little library, working the feeling back into my feet and weaving my hair into a neat braid down my back. With a book under my arm for later, I go downstairs to wait for Alistair.

  Feel nothing, I tell myself. That will be better than this throbbing pain just behind my ribs.

  When Alistair finally appears, he looks half asleep, with his hair pushed up slightly on one side and dark circles under his usually bright eyes. He’s surprised to see me. “Early riser?” he asks drily.

  “I said I’d give my answer in the morning.”

  He wakes up a little at this. “And?”

  “I’d like to leave immediately.”

  He moves toward me, his hand gentle on my arm. “You don’t have to go, Isla. I can find another way; you don’t have to agree.” I can’t tell if this is a subtle trick, a manipulation to win me over, or if he genuinely cares about my safety. But no matter; with every word, I’m more and more sure of my decision.

  “I’m certain.”

  He smiles warmly. “I’ll walk with you. You can leave within the hour.” As we go, he talks quickly. “If Curram is suspicious, he’ll have my men searched and make them leave their weapons outside. The only way we can be certain of a moment with him unguarded is if he perceives there to be no threat. However…” Alistair’s eyes glow, making him look younger than he already is; I doubt he’s older than thirty-five, but the responsibility he bears makes it seem like more. “If Curram believes you to be a prisoner, he won’t have you searched. You can conceal a weapon on your person and my men will do the rest.”

  When we reach the stables, they’re ruins like the infirmary: crumbling stone structures with tarps spread across the tops. While Alistair speaks to the stable master about sending word to the men who’ll be accompanying me, I wander from one stall to the next, trying not to shy away when the giant animals poke out their heads to see who I am. I remember reading about draft horses years before. Hearty, steady, strong, faithful. Perfect for pulling a cart or a plow, among other things.

  The books didn’t tell me what their tongues would feel like on my hand—rough, warm, and sticky—or that I could look into their dark, glossy eyes and find all the understanding in the world. “Why doesn’t Tam care?” I ask the last horse as he exhales warm, wet air onto my hand. His ears swivel toward the sound of my voice, and I could swear there’s sympathy in his great big eyes. I stroke the animal’s cheek, and he blows softly on my face. “I thought the locket was his way of tying us together before he left.”

  He never said that, whispers a voice in my thoughts. He never said there was anything special between you. That kiss was a good-bye, and nothing more.

  twenty-five

  Alistair’s return saves me from my dark train of thought.

  “My men will
be here momentarily,” he says. Standing on the damp grass with sunlight making his hair even lighter, he looks more relaxed than in the dusty, intimidating cavern of an office. “Here, this is for my men”—he hands me a small pistol—“and this is for your own protection.” It’s a knife, small enough to hide in my boot, the blade only as long as my index finger.

  “Thank you,” I say, and he nods before going on.

  “Tensions in Verity may be mounting, but my men will be able to get you in and out. I’ve given them documents containing my seal and that of a lawman who helps us with these sort of situations, should you have any trouble at the gates.”

  Everything is waiting already. “What if I hadn’t agreed?”

  His eyes twinkle. “I hoped you would.” I imagine the rousing speeches Alistair must have made here over the past months or years, perhaps while standing at the entrance to the fortress, or even walking among the people, gaining their trust. No wonder Marion’s faith in him is so great. When he adds, “I have every confidence in you, Isla,” I feel I could go into battle if he asked me to.

  After a moment, two men appear, and Alistair quickly introduces them as Caffrey and Gilbert, prison escapees like a number of the men at camp. They’re young and strong, but Alistair makes it clear that they’re not at Eisendrath to play a part in the battle in the same way that the soldiers are. His less-than-subtle comment about saving them for tasks more suited to their history, like this one, makes my mind reel with possibilities of what their prison sentences might have been for.

  “Each of you has my sincerest thanks,” Alistair says as the stable master leads two horses to us that are pulling a cart not unlike the one in which the other girls and I arrived. The men toss in blankets and satchels and the one called Gilbert jumps up to the front, volunteering to drive for the first stint. Caffrey stretches out in the front of the wagon bed as if he’ll go to sleep. “Godspeed,” says Alistair, raising a hand in farewell.

  Gilbert slaps the reins against the horses’ backs and we start moving, but guilt tugs at me for not saying something to Val, Phoebe, or Marion. I’ll be back any day now, I think, but how can I be sure of that?