MARKS - Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

The murmurs in the group grow from concern to outright panic. “He’s coming to kill us,” someone says.

“No.” I push to my feet. “If he knew we were in this cave he’d have us by now.” I catch Ward’s gaze and nod. “But he knows someone uses the sewers. We have to get out. Now.”

Ward turns to Nolan, who barks out orders. Men are dispatched as extra guards, and women are told to collect belongings. We have to leave. Now. It’d be wise to leave no trace of our existence here, but in so short a time that would be next to impossible. Burning it all would be ideal, but a fire of such size would send up more smoke than we dare let be seen.

Ward dashes back inside, and I follow him down one of the tunnels. He pauses in front of the press then puts a hand on it.

"Ward, don’t.”

 

His eyes are set. Sad. “We have to, Gretta. It’s evidence we’re not just hiding, but we’re working against him.”

He yanks on the wood over and over, and the press crumbles to pieces in Ward’s strong hands. Something in me sags. Words will have no power against the King. They never have. Despair takes root deep inside me. He’s won. He’ll always win.

“Gretta.”

I wince as Ward’s voice cuts across the tunnel.

“Gather the papers. We have to destroy them.”

Right. The papers. I collect those on the table and stack them together. There are large rolls used in the press and older papers folded in two. The Lyran poem stares back at me. The King can’t destroy our words completely. There are still Lyran children whose power hasn’t emerged. This can’t be over. It can’t. All these people - an entire Kingdom - cannot be silenced like this. Forced to live their lives in such a meager way it can hardly be called living.

This is why I’m here. I have to do something. My hands shake as I continue gathering papers.

“Have them all?” Ward asks.

“Almost.”

I turn my back to him, then rip the bottom half of the Lyran poem page off and shove it down my shirt. Then I grab a pen from the table and push it up my sleeve as I turn, the stack in my hands. Ward grabs the rolls, and I follow him out to the main room. Women bustle everywhere, tugging extra clothes over children’s heads and wrapping up what’s most needed.

Ward heads to the fire.

“Ward, no!”

He turns. “We have to, Gretta.”

“The Lyran words won’t burn, Ward. You’ll give them away.”

His face falls. It’s the heaviest Lyran burden to carry. This truth that things I write are never undone. Never erased or unwritten. A permanent testament to my words. I can’t snatch them back, never ease them into forgetfulness the way others can when their words do damage. My name is always attached to my sins.

“We’ll sink them in the river,” I tell him. “With any luck they won’t be found.” I head to the entrance, relieved when Ward falls into step beside me.

“Wait.”

I spin at his command. He runs down the tunnel and comes back with his fishing basket and rod. “Put your papers in here.”

“What about yours?” I ask as I fill the basket.

“Stuffed under my shirt.”

Perfect. We look only like a couple going fishing. Ward laces his fingers through mine and pulls me out of the cave to the river. We head to the same spot as before. While Ward casts his line out, I inch to the water’s edge with the basket.

I trace letters on the surface of the water while Ward pretends to fish. His narrowed eyes linger over the field in front of us. After a few minutes he recasts his line. “A bit at a time,” he tells me.

The basket sits inches from me. Without raising my head, I reach and tear off a scrap, wad it up and push it under the current. It dances under the water, skimming over rocks and bumping into them before finally continuing its gentle journey down the river.

We don’t have time for this.

I take off my shoes and stockings and hitch up my skirt. Though it’s spring, the water still carries the iciness of winter. Gritting my teeth, I take several more steps. “Anyone?”

“Go ahead,” Ward says.

One at a time, I crumple sheets of paper and push them underneath the river’s current, the water biting my hand as it grabs my offerings and rushes them away from the King’s City.

“Did you choose this cave because it’s on the River Alden and not the Gint?”

“You’re smart, Gretta,” Ward says as he nods. “We wanted something that flowed away from the King, not to him, so yes, we scouted out places along the Alden.”

I grab another fistful of paper. “How’d you find the cave?”

“One of the women with us grew up not far from here and remembered her father finding it once when he got caught in a snowstorm.”

Some fate was surely guiding their hand. You wouldn’t know the cave was here hidden in the bluffs unless you stumbled on the entrance.

Or were kidnapped by a guard and dragged through the sewers.

I shove more papers under the water, unease swirling through me. Where are these bits of paper going to end up? What if someone loyal to the King finds them along the muddy banks? I shut my eyes and block out thoughts of what could happen. When I open my eyes, I stare at Ward, who’s busy scanning the forests and fields around us. Always looking out for others. For me. My stomach leaps into my throat.             

“Ward, do you think the King knows you’re a rebel?”

He looks at me now. “If he did, I’d be dead already, Sparks. I’ve seen what he does to those who are disloyal.”

My sweet Ward. How many awful things has he had to play part to? I wonder if he has killed people. Though he bears no marks like I do, I know the memory of things he’s done scars him in other ways. The hardness in his tone sometimes. The weight he carries between those broad shoulders of his. None of us can escape the things we do. We’re all marked by them.

My feet are nearly numb with cold by the time the last of the papers is pushed below the water’s surface. I dry my feet off with the hem of my dress before putting my stockings and shoes back on, all the while trying to fight back fear that what we’ve done isn’t enough.

We make our way back to the cave, and Ward sits me in front of the one remaining fires.  Blair pushes a mug of tea in my hand. Nolan’s face is grim.

   

“What now?” Ward asks him.

“One family has already left. John’s family is leaving tonight. I think it best we don’t all go out at once.” He studies Blair’s face. “The King knows more than we thought. He may have found the Lyrans helping us. We need to figure out what the King knows, so we can plan what to do next.”

Ward nods. “I’ll head in tomorrow and see what I can find out.”

Nolan glances to Blair then nods. Ward is going to poke his head into the King’s nest, but there’s no way around it.

I set my tea down and stand. “I’m going with you.”

Ward shakes his head. “No, Gretta. You’ll go with Nolan and Blair.

Like hell I will. “Ward, he’s finding Lyrans. Maybe he’s finding sympathizers, too. Information flows well between sympathizers. Mera will know what’s happening.”

Ward clenches his jaw and juts his chin out. “He could find you, Gretta. And I know that you can’t save yourself from him. That was the first thing he forced a Lyran to write when the wars started. Lyrans are not immune to his power.”

“I know that,” I snap. Oh, how I know that. “I’ll go into the city, just for the day, and find out what I can.”

“What if something happens?”

“I’ll write my way out.”

“They know one of our routes already. If you’re discovered with paper and pen on you, they’ll take you straight to the King.”

The scrap of paper in the front of my dress seems to burn, as though ignited by Ward’s words and betraying the fact I’ve hidden it there. “Meggie has her paper, Ward. And I already wrote that the King would never find it. I’ll go there first and get what I need. Then find out what I can from Mera. Then I’ll go wherever you tell me to.”

My lip quivers and tears rush to my eyes, but I blink them away. We may need to run, but where can we go? There’s nowhere to hide. No place to run to. I’ve been running all my life. And I won’t leave Ashtin somewhere I can’t be. I won’t leave Meggie and Sam. These people deserve life. I deserve life.

“It’s a good idea, Ward,” Nolan says. “She could find out more than we could. Nobody would trust someone they don’t know, and they sure as Saints wouldn’t trust a guard.”

Ward glares at Nolan. He scuffs the cave floor with his boot. My heart twists as I watch him fight off a million emotions and settle into one. I hope what he settles on isn’t anger at me. Finally, he sighs, and when his eyes meet mine there’s only concern there.

Half the men stand guard tonight, and everyone sleeps with their bundles of belongings within arm’s reach. I have no bundle, just the dress on my back and the hulking boy lying next to me. Ward tucks me on his bed again, pressed against his chest and his arm tight around me. There’s no waiting until the others are asleep tonight. Everyone is restless, and besides, we’ve reached the point where we don’t care if we’re seen.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I never have. Whether the death of my family, or a kiss from a boy I never thought I’d care for. There are a million things I could’ve written for my own life, but I would’ve never dreamed up either of those. The idea of something happening to Ward is like a dark cloud in my mind, casting visions of black and red to dance through my head. I turn over and face him, burying my head in his chest and breathing in his scent.

His arms tighten around me and he rolls me over to the other side, so his back faces the rest of the group, a shield to keep prying eyes away. I raise my face to his before he even dips his head, knowing his intent before he even declares it.

I could easily cry, but don’t. It’s all planned. I’ll go into the city tomorrow, and Nolan will check his contacts there. Then he will meet me at the west gate and take me to where Blair and the children will be waiting. Ward knows where to find us but will dare not meet up with us for quite some time, until he knows it’s safe.

I don’t know how long it will be before I see Ward again. I don’t know if my search for information tomorrow will yield anything. Or if I do find out things, if I would even want to know them.

What I do know is Ward. The way he’d die to keep his family safe, and that now I’m part of that family. Family - what a wonderful word. It has power even if it remains unwritten. I’ve hated the word ever since my family was killed. Hated it because all it’s meant for me is loss and sadness. And guilt. It seems guilt is the only memory I have of my family.

But here in this cave, with these people, I have found my place: my family, my hope for something more.

I press my lips harder against Ward. He brings his hand under my head and gently lowers me to the ground. His fingers trace a line from my forehead, down my cheek to my chin. Words burst to life inside my mind.

Ward. Hope. Wish.

I fall asleep with the words in my head and Ward’s arms around me.

In the morning while Ward grabs his guard tunic, I go to the springs to wash my face. Another family left this morning. Blair and Nolan will leave shortly, too, so he can get her somewhere safe before he comes for me.

The water seems warmer today, and still, as though in reverence of our leaving and in hope we’ll return. I remove the paper and pen from my dress and quickly scribble a sentence. Then I push the remaining paper and pen under the surface of the water.

Ward’s waiting for me when I get back. His clothes are tied into a bundle. Blair’s face is wet with tears, and Liddy clings to Ward’s neck. He presses a kiss to her sweet forehead and gently pushes her back into Nolan’s arms. She looks at me, wide eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll see you tonight,” I tell her.

She smiles, and I kiss her cheek. Blair gives me a nod of her head before Ward grabs my hand. The morning is bright and clear, and though it’s surely just a day and not meant as a good sign, I take it as one anyway.

Ward keeps hold of my hand as we walk, his grip tightening as we near the city. No sewers this time. Instead we’ll walk right through the gate. Ward stops in a grove of trees just outside of town and puts on his guard uniform. I’ll go in first with Ward a bit behind me, to make sure I clear the gates. I have a basket over my arm and nothing but fear pulsing through me. Courage seems to be a trait I’ll never have unless I write it into existence.

Despite my fear, my heart thrums steady. Maybe I’m not as scared as I think. Or perhaps I’ve just lived in fear for so long my heart has gotten used to it. Ward gathers me in his arms and I linger in their strength. This boy who is my fortress in more ways than one, and we’re both walking into our enemy’s backyard. But we’ve survived this long.

Ward kisses me - deep and endless - and when his lips pull away, I’m still longing for more. And in that I suppose is a promise that more will come. This is only the beginning.

“You know where to go?” he asks me.

Of course I do, but I know he wants to make sure he’s done all he can to keep me safe. I nod.

Sunlight bounces off his eyes today, putting specks of gold in them I’ve never seen before. “I’ll see you soon, Sparks. All right?” he says.

Soon. Yes. I reach into the basket and grab something. And then my heart does pick up speed. I look down at the scrap of paper in my hand. Balling the paper up, I press it quick into Ward’s hands. Then I turn and head to the city gates. Ward is no doubt standing behind me, reading my words. The ones I didn’t have to write, because they were already true.

Gretta Marks will love Ward Green forever.

Truer words have never been written. So it’s with hope in my heart and a smile on my face - and no courage anywhere - that I enter the King’s City, for what I hope will be the last time.