Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(57)

Her head inside the bag turns toward me. Suddenly I see her entire body go rigid, straining tightly against her bonds. I push against Flint but he won’t let me go. Then Lark’s body starts tembling spasmodically. Her head thrashes back and forth, then after a long moment her body goes completely stiff again, then slack.

“She has seizures,” I cry out, kicking uselessly at Flint’s shins. “Let me help her!”

“Did you lead her here?” Flint growls, ignoring my struggles, and I remember that this is the man who tortured me. He’s been so pleasant ever since, his tone cordial and inspiring. Now I recall the voice of my interrogator, and I try to shrink away from him. But he holds me in an iron grip and shakes me. “Did you send her a message? Who is she? Who is she working for?”

“Let her go,” Lachlan says, and if his voice is soft, his intentions clearly are not. His fists are clenched, his jaw set, and I think he’s ready to attack the leader of the Underground. Flora looks over her shoulder, surprised, and Flint lets me go abruptly. The two men stare at each other for a long, tense moment. Then Flint takes a step back.

“You know this girl?” Flint asks, keeping a more respectful distance from me . . . and Lachlan.

“She’s my friend,” I say. Lark’s head is turned toward me now, and I want to rip the bag off her head, comfort her, but I don’t quite dare.

“I thought you said she was kept strictly in her house all her life,” Flint says to Lachlan.

“She was, until just a few days ago. I don’t know who this girl is, though.”

“She’s my brother’s best friend,” I explain. “I met her when I snuck out. She knows I’m a second child, but she’d never tell—ever! She’s an outer circle girl, and she . . . she helps people.” I really don’t know what Lark does, but I know she’s somehow involved in resisting the Center.

“What was she doing snooping outside?” Flint wants to know.

“Why don’t you ask her, instead of beating her?” I say, looking levelly at Flint. Then I slip between the two men. No one tries to stop me when I start to fumble with the cords that tie the wet canvas bag around Lark’s neck. The water has made the knots swell, though, and I can’t undo them.

“Here, let me,” Lachlan says, and whips out a folding knife with a curved blade. He slices cleanly through the ropes, and I trust him so much I never even worry how close the deadly edge is to my friend’s neck.

I pull the bag off, and strangely, it is Lachlan she sees first. The two people I’ve kissed, meeting face-to-face under these strange circumstances.

Then she looks at me, and her face floods with relief. “You’re alive!” she gasps.

I use the hem of my shirt to blot her face dry.

“What are you doing here, Lark?” I ask, very close to her ear, so close it is almost a kiss.

“I’ve been looking for you. I had all my contacts from the Edge searching.”

“You’re with the Edge?” Lachlan interrupts.

“Bunch of amateurs,” Flint mutters. “Deluded do-gooders.”

Lachlan shoots him a disdainful look. “At least they’re trying. What’s wrong with trying to do good? Anything is better than nothing.”

“Until they get in our way, or expose us, or bring the Center sniffing around where it doesn’t belong.”

“What is the Edge?” I ask.

Lark answers. “The Edge is the opposite of the Center. We try to bring people together, people of all circles, all incomes, all educations.”

“A social club,” Flint scoffs.

Lark looks at him furiously, so impassioned even though she’s still tied down that my heart thrills for her courage, her strength. “We’re doing what we can. We let inner circle people know about the problems the outer circle people face. We raise money, we try to help the poor. We hide rebels. We help second children.”

Flint looks incredulous. “What second children have you ever helped?”

“Rowan, of course. She’s the first I ever met. Ever since then members of the Edge have been keeping an eye on her house, following her when she sneaks out to make sure she’s safe.”

I feel my heart sink in my chest, as Lachlan and I exchange looks.

“You told someone about me?”

“Only a very few trusted members of the Edge. I’ve known them for years. They’re absolutely reliable.”

“You idiot!” Lachlan thunders. He steps toward Lark, looking furious, and for a second I’m afraid for her. But then I see that once again he’s getting between Flint and his intended target. Lachlan is angry, but when I see Flint’s face I start to shake. He looks murderous. I think if Lachlan wasn’t between them, his hands would already be around Lark’s throat.

“Lark,” I ask softly, “how could you do that to me?”

Her face falls. “I . . . I thought I was helping you. I trust them.”

“Then you trust a traitor,” Flint snarls at her. “Which makes you a traitor, too.” He jabs a forefinger in my direction. “This girl lived in perfect safety until you told one of your ‘trusted friends’ about her. Now her mother is dead, because of you. The Center is hunting her, because of you.”

“I didn’t mean to!”