Read Online The Wandering (The Lux Guardians, #2) by Saruuh Kelsey - Free Book Online Page A

planned
to use this new life to find my sister, but I doubt there’s hope of
that. She’s gone. She’s dead. She has to be.
    “I
think I will stay
in Bharat,” I say. “I’m not cut out for war.”
    “I’ve got an idea,”
Marie says, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe you could take up
knitting.”
    “Maybe I will,” I
retort. “There is nothing to stop me.”
    Priya smothers a laugh
with her hand, her brown cheeks tinged slightly red. When the laugh
becomes louder, uncontrollable, she rests her head on the table,
shoulders shaking. Marie pats her between the shoulder blades, a
smirk softened into fondness.
    When recovered, Priya
says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you knitting, but the
image was too funny. I can’t imagine you making scarves and little
socks.”
    “Neither can I.” My
arm is starting to ache under Honour’s weight. I wonder how gently
I can wake him. “How long is it until we get to Bharat?” I ask the
Guardians.
    “Weeks. Months. Who
knows?” Marie shrugs. “We need time to plan anyway.”
    I raise my head,
fighting a frown. “To plan your war?”
    She inclines her head,
smiling. “To plan our war.”
     
    ***
     
    Honour
     
    21:16. 13.10.2040. The
Free Lands, Eastlands coastline.
     
     
    “Honour, we need to
talk.”
    Bran’s voice is a
shock in the silent cabin. I take my head out of my hands and look
at him questioningly. For a second I’m glad he’s here, a welcome
distraction from the deep downward spiral of my fears. But then I
see his shuttered expression. I can’t think of Bran’s feelings ever
being closed off before.
    The door closes
silently behind him and two unfamiliar girls, one carved of ice,
the other of brown stone. The dark girl holds a large book to her
chest while the other surveys the room, her surreally bright eyes
analytical. I don’t usually pay much attention to people’s eyes but
this girl’s have a way of keeping my attention. There’s something
not quite right about them.
    A sense of being
cornered comes over me and I wish I hadn’t pushed Tia to go with
Hele and Dal to the common room. I watch Bran lean against the
wall, agitation in his posture, and I know I’m not gonna like what
is coming.
    “What’s going on?”
    Bran won’t meet my
eyes.
    “My
name is Priya Vyas.” The girl with the book perches on the edge of
Hele’s bed. Her eyes peer out of a small face partially hidden by
long black hair. I watch her, wondering if she’s Indian or black or
mixed before I catch myself. This girl’s race is none of my
business, and it shouldn’t matter anyway. I never liked people
asking rude questions about my ethnicity back in F.L., and I never
even knew what my ethnicity was . I guessed, of course, but I
never had a way of knowing. Not until Hele took me to the Guardians
library and showed me a book about my dad, the famous white rebel,
and my black mum, who was ‘kind’ and ‘beautiful’.
    I couldn’t give a crap
about the Unnamed. I already know about him. But I wanna know about
my mum—what she believed in, what she wanted for the world. Would
she want me and Tia to unite the Forgotten Lands? Would she approve
of us being a part of the Guardians’ revolution? Would she rather
we’d died in the Fall?
    I think sometimes I
would.
    I
see people looking to me at important meetings, or when something
goes wrong and plans have to be hastily rewritten. Waiting for me
to do something impressive, something great . Something motivating, like
the Unnamed would have done. I wish they wouldn’t. It’s too much to
expect me to function like an ordinary human, let alone an
extraordinary one.
    If I’d Fallen, I
wouldn’t have any of these expectations, wouldn’t have people
waiting for a moment of brilliance that’s never going to come. I
wouldn’t be waiting for that moment myself.
    I keep thinking maybe
today I’ll change. Maybe I’ll find myself. I’ll know what to say
and how to say it. I’ll wake up one morning and