be anything.
Still chattering, Gloriette reached for my elbow and pulled me to my feet. “I’ll just take you back to your room, duck.”
“I could find my way,” I offered, shrinking from her heavy touch. “Especially if I’m to stay here as a historian.”
“No, no,” replied Gloriette, ushering me down the hallway. “I won’t hear of it. It’s rude to make you run around unescorted.” She stepped back toward the door as she said this, and in the process, she crushed the puzzle with her left foot. She didn’t even look down.
I managed to plaster a smile across my face in response. My mouth said, “Well, I’ve loved it here so far. I’m so glad I get to stay here even longer.”
My mind whispered, Why are they so afraid to let you out of your room alone? An image formed in my mind of the boxes I’d seen on my way in, labeled with my name and my brother’s.
By the time we arrived back at my room, I was almost stumbling, kept upright only by Gloriette’s fleshy grip on my arm.
“Could I see my mother and father?” I asked, as she sat me down on my bed. “Just to let them know I’ll be here a little longer?”
“Oh, we’ll take care of that, dear.” Gloriette smiled more widely. “They’re going to be enormously proud of you!”
I tried to arrange the chaotic tangle of thoughts running through my mind. I wanted to insist on seeing my family— surely they couldn’t keep a daughter from her parents?—but I couldn’t form the words. In the end I only stared at her. “Proud of me?” I echoed stupidly.
Gloriette’s eyes narrowed, and yet she kept smiling. The effect was horrifying. “Yes,” she said, looking down at me and testing the needle-like point on her compass with her thumb. “You’re going to do great things for your city.”
As soon as she left, I lurched to my feet and headed for the door. I knew what I would find when I tried the handle, but the wave of despair still choked me. The door wouldn’t budge.
Chapter 7
I awoke in darkness, with no buzzing lights to tell me whether it was day or night. I must have dozed off after Gloriette left. I had been awake only seconds before the door opened, sending a shaft of light slicing into my room. I kept quiet and still, but couldn’t keep up the act when a blue-coated woman came to my bedside and shook me awake.
“Up you go, Miss Ainsley,” she said, giving my arm a little tug.
When I stood, I felt dizzy, groggy. It felt as though I had slept only an hour. The overwhelming weariness that followed Gloriette’s visit was unabated. “What’s going on?” I mumbled. “Am I going home?”
“Time for your harvest,” said the woman, whose face was painfully familiar, though I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before. She introduced herself as Emila. “Don’t worry, you can wear what you slept in.”
“But,” I protested, my voice coming out slow and distorted, “I’ve already been harvested. It’s time to get my assignment. To go home.”
“Have you?” Emila sounded surprised as she led me from the room. “No, I’m sure we wouldn’t have done that. Everyone is always harvested on their way out.”
“But I remember....”
“What do you remember, Lark?”
I realized that I could not remember a thing about being harvested. I remembered the feast, and the hours of testing and interviews. I remembered something about a faulty door lock, and I remembered being afraid they’d find out I had done magic. I remembered Gloriette telling me I could become an assistant. I remembered Kris and his dark, handsome hair, and his privileged, smooth hands. I must have dreamed something about being harvested. Even now, as I began to wake up a little more, the dream drifted away into nothing, like a cloud of steam.
“You’ll be able to see your family again when it’s done,” said Emila when I didn’t reply. “Would you like that?”
My family. Yes, I had wanted to see my mother and father. “Yes, please,”
Still chattering, Gloriette reached for my elbow and pulled me to my feet. “I’ll just take you back to your room, duck.”
“I could find my way,” I offered, shrinking from her heavy touch. “Especially if I’m to stay here as a historian.”
“No, no,” replied Gloriette, ushering me down the hallway. “I won’t hear of it. It’s rude to make you run around unescorted.” She stepped back toward the door as she said this, and in the process, she crushed the puzzle with her left foot. She didn’t even look down.
I managed to plaster a smile across my face in response. My mouth said, “Well, I’ve loved it here so far. I’m so glad I get to stay here even longer.”
My mind whispered, Why are they so afraid to let you out of your room alone? An image formed in my mind of the boxes I’d seen on my way in, labeled with my name and my brother’s.
By the time we arrived back at my room, I was almost stumbling, kept upright only by Gloriette’s fleshy grip on my arm.
“Could I see my mother and father?” I asked, as she sat me down on my bed. “Just to let them know I’ll be here a little longer?”
“Oh, we’ll take care of that, dear.” Gloriette smiled more widely. “They’re going to be enormously proud of you!”
I tried to arrange the chaotic tangle of thoughts running through my mind. I wanted to insist on seeing my family— surely they couldn’t keep a daughter from her parents?—but I couldn’t form the words. In the end I only stared at her. “Proud of me?” I echoed stupidly.
Gloriette’s eyes narrowed, and yet she kept smiling. The effect was horrifying. “Yes,” she said, looking down at me and testing the needle-like point on her compass with her thumb. “You’re going to do great things for your city.”
As soon as she left, I lurched to my feet and headed for the door. I knew what I would find when I tried the handle, but the wave of despair still choked me. The door wouldn’t budge.
Chapter 7
I awoke in darkness, with no buzzing lights to tell me whether it was day or night. I must have dozed off after Gloriette left. I had been awake only seconds before the door opened, sending a shaft of light slicing into my room. I kept quiet and still, but couldn’t keep up the act when a blue-coated woman came to my bedside and shook me awake.
“Up you go, Miss Ainsley,” she said, giving my arm a little tug.
When I stood, I felt dizzy, groggy. It felt as though I had slept only an hour. The overwhelming weariness that followed Gloriette’s visit was unabated. “What’s going on?” I mumbled. “Am I going home?”
“Time for your harvest,” said the woman, whose face was painfully familiar, though I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before. She introduced herself as Emila. “Don’t worry, you can wear what you slept in.”
“But,” I protested, my voice coming out slow and distorted, “I’ve already been harvested. It’s time to get my assignment. To go home.”
“Have you?” Emila sounded surprised as she led me from the room. “No, I’m sure we wouldn’t have done that. Everyone is always harvested on their way out.”
“But I remember....”
“What do you remember, Lark?”
I realized that I could not remember a thing about being harvested. I remembered the feast, and the hours of testing and interviews. I remembered something about a faulty door lock, and I remembered being afraid they’d find out I had done magic. I remembered Gloriette telling me I could become an assistant. I remembered Kris and his dark, handsome hair, and his privileged, smooth hands. I must have dreamed something about being harvested. Even now, as I began to wake up a little more, the dream drifted away into nothing, like a cloud of steam.
“You’ll be able to see your family again when it’s done,” said Emila when I didn’t reply. “Would you like that?”
My family. Yes, I had wanted to see my mother and father. “Yes, please,”
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