Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(21)

Mom, always sensitive, surely decided I needed time alone and left me in the courtyard, apparently mulling over my fate. I close their bedroom door and head to my tiny bedroom.

I pass by Ash’s bedroom and pause by the door.

He’s sleeping, too, his breath steady but slightly raspy. For a long moment I look at his face. My face, almost. The resentment surges again. Why does he get everything, while I—a healthier version of him, rightfully first—get nothing.

Then his breath catches and stops for a long moment. This happens a lot when he sleeps. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve waited, my own breath held, for his breathing to start up again. So far it always has. Someday, I fear, it won’t.

I count, seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . Finally he sucks in a ragged breath, and begins to snore gently. On one hand the sound is annoying, but on the other it is reassuring. The snores are a constant gentle reminder that he’s still breathing, still alive.

I creep closer and look at his face, calm and restful in sleep. He looks young, much younger than I myself feel tonight. But then, I remember wryly, I’m technically older than him.

How could I have harbored a jealous thought about him? Suddenly I understand why Mom had to strip me of my first child privilege and let the world believe Ash is the one and only. She must have known even then that I could endure whatever suffering came my way. Ash—sick, sensitive—never could have.

I look back at the endless weeks, months, years of solitude, hidden away in this house. Somehow, I managed to find a measure of happiness for myself all that time. Or if not happiness, contentment. Sure, sometimes I cried. Other times I raged. But I got through it. And as ripped apart as I might be about having to leave home now, a part of me knows that I can deal with it. It will be hard, but I can do it.

A sense of peace washes over me. My anger is gone. Did meeting Lark do all that? Or did it just come from inside, the same acceptance that helped me get through all these years?

I’m so tired. So tired and so happy. Mom’s right—every child leaves home. I’m just doing it a little earlier than most, and under stranger conditions. But whoever’s identity I assume, I’ll still get to see my family, I’m sure of that. Mom wouldn’t allow it to be any other way. And now I have Lark. Wherever I am in Eden, I’ll have Lark.

I’m almost to my room when I hear Ash stir behind me. “Rowan?” he asks. I know he’s only half-awake, that I could make it to my room and be alone with my thoughts of freedom and Lark and friendship if only I keep going. But I turn and sit at his bedside.

His eyes open a bit when he feels the compression of the bed. “Where were you?” he asks sleepily.

“In the courtyard,” I reply.

“No you weren’t.”

“I . . . I was. You just didn’t see me. Or maybe I was inside when you were looking for me.”

He smiles, then the grin breaks in a yawn. “It’s a big house, but it’s not that big. Where did you go? I checked all your hiding spots.”

I don’t say anything.

“You went out, didn’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

My chin juts out defiantly. “Maybe.”

He covers his eyes with his hand, rubbing them hard. “What were you thinking, Rowan? You could have gotten caught, or killed!”

I feel an urge to say I’m sorry. But I’m not, not at all. “I was just fine,” I say instead. “W—” I catch myself. I almost said we, but I’ve decided not to tell Ash about Lark. Not yet. Sometimes a thing is too precious to bring out into the light. Somehow, talking about it might make the magic of the night evaporate. “I didn’t have any problems. No one looked at me twice.”

He’s still angry, or scared. “How could you do something so stupid?” he asks. “Never mind what would happen to our family if you got caught.” I flush and hang my head. I’ve hardly thought about that possible consequence of my adventure. “You know what the authorities would do to you if they found out you existed.”

I don’t, not really. I’ve never been told exactly, but the consequences hinted at ranged from torture to prison to slavery to death. But oh, great Earth, it was worth it just to escape for one night! I try to explain this to Ash, telling him about the joy—and fear—of seeing the people, the lights, hearing the blare of music and the babble of hundreds of people at once.

He nods, understanding the depth of my loneliness, my need for more. In a conciliatory voice he says, “Mom said you’re going to get your lenses soon.”

The way he says this makes me think Mom hasn’t told him I only have a few days left with my family.

“I’m so happy for you!” He puts a hand over mine. “Are you scared?” Before I can answer he adds, “Of course you’re not. You’re not scared of anything.”

I give a small, rueful laugh. “There’s not much to be afraid of when you never leave the house.”

“No, that’s not true,” he says. There’s a new depth to him, and he seems to be looking inside himself as he talks to me. “Just being alive can make people afraid. To have something so precious as life, that can be taken away at any moment . . .” He swallows hard and licks his dry lips. “Not you, though. I’ve never seen you afraid.”

I make a small confession. “I was afraid when I was outside the house tonight. For a while, anyway.”