Rebellion (The 100 #4)(5)
Max nodded, then pressed a hand against the wall of the cabin for balance, as if something inside of him had just cracked.
I shouldn’t be here, Wells thought, but before he could make an excuse to leave, Max straightened and walked into the cabin, motioning for Wells to follow.
“I prepared a few words to start the feast, but of course, I left them all the way back here,” Max said, riffling through his makeshift desk for a little scrap of paper crammed with scribbled words. “The spots at the table are filling up fast. You might want to get over there.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not even sure I’m going.” Wells stared at his boots but felt Max’s eyes lingering on him.
“You have as much reason to be at that table as anybody, Wells,” the older man said. His voice was quiet but firm as stone. “These people… our people… are together because of you. Alive because of you.”
Wells’s eyes shot to Sasha’s corner. Max glanced over his shoulder at it, following Wells’s gaze.
“She’ll be there too in a way, you know,” Max said, his voice softening slightly. “The Harvest Feast was her favorite holiday.” He stepped forward, pressing a hand to Wells’s shoulder. “She’d want you to enjoy it.”
Wells felt his eyes stinging. He cast them down and nodded. Max squeezed his shoulder and let go.
“I’ll be sitting up at the head of the table with the rest of the Council,” he said, striding out. “I’ll save you a seat beside me. You wouldn’t want to miss Bellamy’s speech, right?”
Despite himself, Wells smiled at the thought of his brother, the brand-new Councilor, giving a speech to hundreds of people. They’d only recently discovered that they were half brothers, but their relationship was evolving quickly, moving from begrudging mutual respect to true loyalty and affection.
Wells followed Max out of the cabin and shut the door gently behind him, letting his gaze linger on the little bird. It was hard to believe that a child had carved it. The young Sasha had captured the animal in mid-flight, making it appear light and joyful, just like she looked on the rare occasion when she set aside her responsibilities and let herself be free. He’d been privileged, he realized, to see that side of her—to watch her shriek with delight as she plunged into the lake from a far greater height than Wells would ever dare. To see her fierce green eyes mellow with tenderness after a kiss. Wells’s carelessness had robbed them of a lifetime of these moments, but it couldn’t take away the memories stored deep within his heart.
He might not have the right to celebrate tonight, not after all he’d done, all he had to answer for—but he did have plenty left to be thankful about.
CHAPTER 3
Glass
Silence wrapped around their bed like an extra blanket. This side of the camp had emptied out as everyone left to help with preparation for the Harvest Feast. But Glass had spent the afternoon here, in their little cabin nestled at the edge of the clearing, distracting Luke and being distracted. This was a rare stolen moment for them. Since Luke had recovered from a near-fatal leg wound, he’d become busier than ever. He left their cabin at dawn and returned long after sunset, generally exhausted and with a slight limp that always made Glass’s heart twinge.
Luke tried to perch on an elbow, but Glass held him down, kissing his shoulder, his bicep, his chest, then letting her mouth trail teasingly lower.
He let out a smiling groan. “I’ve got to get to my shift.”
She kissed his chin, his neck. “Not yet.”
“You keep making me late.” He traced her spine with his fingertips, his expression uncomplaining.
“They won’t mind,” Glass said, nestling closer. “You get more done in your shifts than anybody else. You’ve built half this camp.” She tilted her head to the side, surveying him with a proud smile. “My brilliant engineer.”
Luke had designed two different models: a small structure with a lofted sleeping space for families, and a longer cabin for groups of people to bunk together, like the camp’s orphaned children and the guards. But Glass and Luke’s cabin was special. It was set back from the others, and its small windows faced the spot where the sun rose over the clearing at this time of year. There was even a fireplace, and a small kitchen area with a table and chairs. No one had batted an eye about them living together, a welcome change after all the time they’d spent sneaking around back on the ship—first because of the oppressive social hierarchy, then later because Glass had been a fugitive.
“I’ve overseen some of the construction,” he corrected. “Everybody’s worked incredibly hard. Besides, I’m not on a construction shift. I have guard duty this evening.” Luke reached up to run his fingers through the blond hair that hung loose around Glass’s face like a veil, then sighed against her neck.
Glass knew that sigh. It meant time was up. She smiled and pushed herself upright, giving him room to scoot out of bed and get dressed.
“Why do you need to go on patrol right in the middle of the Harvest Feast?” she asked, pulling her shirt over her head, her toes searching the floor for the thick woolen tunic she’d discarded there hours ago—a welcome gift from their new Earthborn friends. Even inside the cabin, the air had an icy edge to it, and the sun hadn’t even set yet. Their first winter was on its way.