Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (27 page)

I have a moment to wonder if that would be a blessing before Berg squeezes my hand.

"What would that mean for Sabah?" Berg asks.

"Well, while we wait for the tests results, it means nothing. She has a bit of a grace period. I suggest," Wrenfel looks at me, "you use this time to determine what career you'd enjoy—just in case."

"And if the tests say I'm fertile?" I ask.

"You'll talk to the Prince. He and the Commission will decide what to do. Don't worry about it too much, darling. You have time, while the tests are being run."

"When do we need to go see the med-techs?" I ask, my voice tense. I can feel tension gathering in my neck, fingers of pain tracing up my skull. I want to find my bed, wherever it may be, and fall asleep.

"Tomorrow; I’ll be by to collect you. I took the liberty of purchasing some supplies—and clothes—for you both. Everything in the house belongs to you." He stands, and I glance around. Even without an in-depth look, I can see that the house is lavishly—tastefully—decorated. I don't want favors from this man that I do not trust. I do not want to like him.

I say so, and Berg moans softly at my side. Tact has never been my strong suit, and it's gone downhill since my time with the ban-wolves.

Wrenfel smiles at me, his eyes glinting predatorily, "Don't worry, Sabah. As your sponsor, it's my duty. And the Commission will reimburse me."

I wonder how many rogue Gutterlings they offer Citizenship to, that they have a protocol for this. Then again, the Commission has a protocol for everything. Even outlandish impossibilities.

"I'll be by to fetch you in the morning,” he says, standing.

Berg sees him out. I can hear their voices, a quiet murmur. I wonder if Berg is apologizing for my rude behavior. I wonder if he realizes how very little I care.

Stupid question. Of course he does—he knows me as well as I know myself. He will know how much I hate this.

**

We explore the house as soon as Wrenfel is gone. The kitchen gleams, smooth black counters and a high bar, with two scoop seats. A coldbox holds a vast array of meats and fruits and juices. I stare at it in silence with Berg, and finally ask, "How long is this supposed to last us?"

He is silent, shaking his head. I would say a month, but I know better. Citizens love to shop--surely that means for food as well?

“If we could sneak this out of the City, it’d feed the children for a month,” I murmur. Berg shoots me a look of warning and I roll my eyes. “I know we can’t.”

Across from the kitchen is the library. It's a spacious room, with a desk and two gleaming tablets—one for both of us, I suppose. A small supply of books neatly line one shelf and I can practically feel Berg vibrating with eagerness to go to them. I drag him away. After determining the downstairs is only an additional dining room and a small washroom, we climb the stairs.

The first room has a massive bed. It's big enough for me and all of the girls to sleep in. I blush, seeing it—obviously, Wrenfel thinks I will share it with Berg. I should look at him, ask what he is thinking. But I can't—I look away and bite my lip and finally—after he has peered into the closet and wandered the bathroom and opened drawers—we back out.

There is a small empty room next. A single desk stands in the corner. "Maybe," Berg says, "it can be your study, if you choose a career?"

I shrug, and we walk to the last door upstairs.

It's a nursery. A crib and soft animal and rocking chair. A tall chest of drawers that smell of small children and powder.

"What is this?" I demand, my eyes wide.

"Possibly it's standard?" Berg suggests doubtfully.

I could laugh at their audacity. That they think they can control me—us—so effortlessly. Fury makes my head hurt though, and is pointless.

Haven't I given them that right? Done what I said I would never do? I take a deep breath, thinking of Arjun, the rest of the pack, reminding myself they are worth this price.

I wonder, for the first time, how long that will be true. How long before I resent him for this?

I turn away and start back downstairs. For a moment, I think Berg will follow me, but he gives me space. I wander through the house, and somehow find myself in the kitchen. The lights are dimming outside—through the window I can hear someone calling to a child. I wonder what Wrenfel meant by his comment about curfew.

I am struck, suddenly, by my inactivity. It bothers me—it feels wrong, to sit so still. I feel like I should be doing something—anything. So I stand and rummage in the coldbox. There is a note on it.

Recipes are stored on your tablet.

Inspiration seizes me, and I hurry to get it. I'm unsurprised to find Berg in the library, his head bent over a thick book as he leans against the wall.

"Which is mine?" I ask, pointing at the tablets.

"The one with your name," he says, looking up and grinning.

I stick my tongue out and peer at more closely. It's true. Although at first glance they appear identical, one has my name etched in a delicate scrawl across the top. I snatch it up and grin at Berg, hurrying back to the kitchen.

With a glass of what looks like berry juice, I perch on a tall stool and scroll through the recipes listed in the directory of the tablet. Berg wanders into the kitchen and I glance at him from under my lashes.

"What are you doing?" he asks curiously, sitting next to me.

"Cooking." I smile at him smugly and watch his face pale.

I was never good at cooking. I was never much good at anything domestic, aside from keeping order. Alba and Dayila excelled at sewing and kept us all in clothes and warm blankets. Lilith helped Cook... well, cook. But I taught the children and kept the Manor running by ordering others. What was I supposed to do, now that there was no one but me? I stand, start pulling tofu steaks and vegetables from the cold box.

"Did you ever think about what life here would be like?" I ask him abruptly.

Berg is silent, staring at the mushrooms that litter the counter.

"Berg?" I prompt.

"Cut the vegetables," he says, pushing them at me. "I'll fry the steaks."

He turns away from me, twirling a round rack, pulling a few vials at random and sprinkling the contents on the meat. He crouches down, opening doors until he finds a flat pan.

The steak is sizzling, filling the kitchen with the smell. I slice methodically, cutting the mushrooms in thin strips. Then I peel an onion and add the paper thin slices to the pile of mushrooms.

"I always thought we'd end up here," he says. He catches my attention, jarring me. My knife slips, almost nicks my pinkie. But I'm focused on Berg. He flips the steaks, and I cut open a pungent pepper.

"I used to fall asleep, dreaming about this. Reading in a library while you cook dinner. Talking about our day, over a glass of wine.” He smiles at me, and I can't help but stare.

Gently, he takes my knife, and places it soundlessly in the sink. Pushes the sliced vegetables into the skillet and stirs some more spices into the intoxicating mess.

"What about Kathleen?" I can't help but ask.

He shrugs. "She understands me. She opened a whole world to me, one that I never dreamed of." A rueful smile tugs his lips.

"I can't be with you," I blurt. I flush, looking down and hating myself for saying it. I didn't want to voice it, but it’s only fair. He can't have delusions.

The idea of sleeping with him, in his embrace, makes me nauseous. Maybe one day, we'll reach that again. I almost hope so—life will be lonely without that. But for now—I can't see anything but Arjun when I close my eyes.

"Sabah," he murmurs, sighing, "I don't expect that. I know you aren't here for me."

There is nothing to say to that, so I stare at the pristine countertop.

"Why didn't you stay with him?" he asks. His voice is curiously devoid of anger, surprising me.

Memories assault me, so sudden and painful it makes me gasp. I clench my eyes closed. The memories are out of place, primal and wild in such a civil setting, it leaves me disoriented, reeling. I struggle to find balance, to fit them into this new life, and Berg is quiet, waiting.

"He told me to come home," I say honestly, my voice breaking.

He's silent, dishing food out onto two plates. He pours two glasses of wine and sits next to me.

"You love him." There is the anger, and it steadies me somehow. I nod. Even knowing it will hurt Berg I cannot help but nod. I meet his eyes, finally.

"Can you live with me, even though you love another?" he asks.

A sob catches in my throat. "Berg," I whisper.

"If you can forgive me for betraying you with the Mistress," he says, cutting me off, "I can live with knowing you love
him
."

"Where does that leave us?" I ask.

He leans forward, and wipes my tears away. "It leaves us together. Not perfect, but together. We've survived so much, Sabah. We'll work through this."

I wonder, as he pushes my dinner at me, if he realizes I don't want to work through it. If he knows that I want nothing more than to curl in Arjun's arms and let the world fall away.

**

The med-techs move around me with unhurried grace, and I suppress a shiver. “How long will this take?” I ask nervously, looking at Wrenfel. He shrugs, lowering himself into a chair and closing his eyes.

“Citizen Sabah?” a clear voice calls. It’s so startling to hear ‘Citizen’ before my name, I jerk. Wrenfel smiles benevolently, and makes a shooing motion.

The med-tech leads me into a large white room, a tall cushioned table in the center. She hands me a thin sheet, and smiles. “We need you to put this on, and wait on the table.”

I blink at her. “Over my clothes?”

A look of amusement crosses her face and I bristle as she says, “No, ma’am. You need to take everything off first.”

I grit my teeth as she leaves, trying to find some kind of calm. I don’t though and eventually I jerk my dress over my head, stripping out of my tunic and underthings. Shivering in the cool air, I slip under the sheet and perch on the table.

After what seems like an eternity of sitting shivering, the door opens, and two med-techs walk in. Neither looks at me. “Lie down, Citizen,” one orders, laying out a set of tools.

Trying to control my shudder, I lay back. “What are you going to do?”

The med-techs exchange a look. The older one—a man—nods before reaching for a syringe. The other one, a petite female, comes to stand next to me, straightening my arm and swabbing the inside of my elbow. “We need blood and tissue samples for our archives and tests. We need to do a full exam, a body scan, and catalogue your body markings.”

“Why?” I ask, flinching as she inserts a needle in my vein.

She blinks, startled by my question. “It’s Commission protocol,” she says, as if I should know. “You’ll need a biochip as well, but we’ll wait to implant that after your fertility tests come back.”

Then she turns away, ignoring me completely as she begins drawing vials of blood.

I am in the library when Wrenfel knocks one morning. I’m sketching, my mind wandering. The sound jerks me to the present, and I look down to see golden eyes stare at me, and I sigh. I almost tear it in two. I want to. Instead, I close my eyes, and drop it into my chair as I go to answer the door.

It's early for him to be here. If I have learned anything about our sponsor—other than his persistent dislike of Berg—it is that he dislikes mornings even more. I have never seen him at our door, or been scheduled for an appointment before mid-meal.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he follows me into the kitchen.

"We have plans this afternoon, lovely. And I'd like you to look your best.” He frowns, looking at me in disdain. I glance down at my loose pants and tunic. Wrenfel likes fine clothing—he has taken me shopping for dresses a half dozen times, filling my closet with more than I could count.

That I don’t wear them irritates him to no end.

I give Wrenfel a look. "I'm not letting you cut my hair."

He's been trying since our first full day in the City. Wrenfel smiles at me tightly, and shrugs. "Fine. But you will do more than brush it."

I look at him. He's excited, almost vibrating with it. "I suppose you want to pick my outfit?" I say, too tired to care.

Wrenfel gives me a charming smile and hurries up the stairs ahead of me. He picks a long yellow dress. It has a low neckline and I think it's a bit formal for mid-day. I arch an eyebrow at him.

"Hurry," he says, his manners slipping a little. I glance pointedly at the door.

Wrenfel doesn’t go downstairs—I can feel him waiting outside my bedroom as I dress. "Where are we going?" I call.

"I'd like you to meet a friend," he says casually.

The words trigger alarm bells in me. I push open the door, stare at him. "Who?"

Wrenfel scowls. "Why are you always so damn suspicious?"

I can't stop my laugh. "I'm a Gutterling raised Outside. How the hell else would I survive?"

He frowns. "I suppose that's true."

“So, where are we going?”

He cocks his head at me. “To eat. As I said, a friend wants to meet you.”

We’ve reached an impasse—I can insist on more information that he won’t give to me. Or I can refuse to leave. But that would only result in Wrenfel bringing a stranger to my home

“I’m doing my own hair,” I tell him.

Wrenfel smiles, and tips his head.

**

The restaurant is empty. I should say something—Berg would know the perfect thing to say. A girl in a pressed white tunic and matching pants is putting a glass of sparkling water in front of me.

“Why is this restaurant open?” I ask. Most restaurants have been closed—a result of the tightened curfew.

The older dark haired man sitting across from me laughs. “Many doors open when you are Prince, my dear.”

I smile sardonically, and look at my plate. The color is exotic, and blurring—I can barely see past the brilliance of it to see what is actually on the plate.