The Cage(66)



“Hey, give that back.”

She whipped her head in the other direction, following voices in English. In the booth across from them, three human children dressed in costume—one a cowboy, one in a princess crown, another in a baseball uniform—were chained to a post, arguing over a dirty stuffed dog. Fears over the Warden finding her folded themselves into a pocket of her mind, present but tucked away. These children couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

The boy in the princess crown grabbed the dog. He was missing his two front teeth and half of one of his fingers. The other boy let out a racking cough, and the creature manning the booth, one of the masked Mosca, tore the dog away.

“Worthless. All you childrens.” His voice, behind the mask, came in fits and starts like a static-filled radio program. “When I go back to Earth next, I will get little childrens who know how to behave. I will to bring them back here, and then will throw the lot of you childrens out.”

Cora instinctively moved closer to Cassian. He glanced at her dilated pupils and sweating brows, and said a few final words to the guards, then led her through the rest of the market quickly.

They plunged into another hallway, this one blessedly empty. It was all she could do to put one heavy foot in front of the other through the murky light that made her feel as though she were moving underwater.

“Why were those kids chained up back there, and missing teeth and fingers?” she whispered insistently, rubbing her knuckles against her tired eyes. “Were they for sale?”

“They were, yes, but do not fear. That was one of the more reputable trading halls. Those children were protected by basic laws. If they were selling the children for individual body parts, they would not have done so out in the open.”

Cora stopped in the center of the empty hallway. “So it was a pet store?” She looked at him hard. “It’s nice to know that’s how you think of us.”

“I told you that you would not like what you saw. You should feel fortunate. The Kindred only take humans of the highest-quality stock. The Mosca take whatever they can get; those humans often suffer a poor fate.” He paused. “It is a deplorable practice. In my previous position, it was my responsibility to save and protect humans mistreated by private owners.”

“How heroic of you.”

“Keep walking.” His fingers curled around the bar imprisoning her wrists as he pulled her farther along down the hall. “We did not come here to see a trading hall. We are going to see the menageries. Be warned that until now, you have only ever seen one aspect of our world: the public one, where we cloak our emotions to demonstrate the highest standards of intelligence, obedience, and above all, emotional control. But as much as we would like to, we cannot suppress emotions forever. They have a way of coming out, and that is why we live very different private lives.” He reached a door that didn’t open automatically like the others, but he stopped. The light from the seam in the door danced over his features, casting his eyes in shadows.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“I am wondering if I am doing the right thing.” His voice was distant, as though he was speaking more to himself. “Perhaps I am making a mistake.”

Cora stepped closer, letting the light play over her face, which she knew must look sunken and worn. “Sometimes mistakes are worth making.”

The muscles in his neck constricted. His hand tightened and flexed at his side as he turned away from the light, and shadows ate at his features. “The ways in which humans and Kindred think is so very different. Mistakes in our world are to be avoided at all cost, because they betray a lack of intelligence, just like lesser emotions. It is sometimes difficult to understand you when you say such things—that sometimes mistakes are worth making.”

He stepped back into the dancing glow.

There was more than confusion written on his face. There was curiosity too. This black-eyed creature studied her like he truly did want to see inside her head, more than just thoughts and images, but to see her, understand who she was and why she thought what she thought.

He wanted to understand humanity.

Good luck, Cora thought. I’d like to understand it myself.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

32

Lucky

LUCKY STORMED THROUGH THE town square, past the flashing lights of the arcade and the thumping beats of jukebox music. Each one punctuated what an idiot he was. He’d stayed up all night, but Cora hadn’t come back. He should have known she’d run away the minute he told her the truth. Why did he ever think she’d forgive him for putting her in prison? Because she smiled at his jokes? Asked him about his granddad’s farm? God, what an idiot he was.

Megan Shepherd's Books