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How could you know that?
I almost say, but then I
recover my wits and press my lips together.
Cook catches the slip and pounces. “It’s not hard to tell. I’ve seen a hundred
slaves come and go. Resistance fighters are always different. Never broken. At
least not when they first arrive. They have . . . hope.” She curls her lip, as if she’s
speaking of a colony of diseased criminals instead of her own people.
“I’m not with the rebels.” I wish I hadn’t spoken. Darin says my voice goes
high when I lie, and Cook seems like the type to notice. Sure enough, her eyes
narrow.
“I’m not a fool, girl. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? The
Commandant will find you out. She’ll torture you, kill you. Then she’ll punish
anyone she thinks you were friends with. That means Iz—Kitchen-Girl.”
“I’m not doing anything wro—”
“There was a woman once,” she interrupts me abruptly. “Joined the
Resistance. Learned to mix powders and potions so that the very air would turn
to fire and stones to sand. But she got in over her head. Did things for the rebels
—horrible things—that she never dreamt she’d do. Commandant caught her like
she’d caught so many others. Carved her up good and ruined her face. Made her
swallow hot coals and ruined her voice. Then she made the woman a slave in her
house. But not before killing everyone the woman knew. Everyone she loved.”
Oh no.
The source of Cook’s scars becomes sickeningly clear. She nods,
grimly acknowledging the dawning horror on my face.
“I lost everything—my family, my freedom—all for a cause that never had
any hope to begin with.”
“But—”
“Before you came here, the Resistance sent a boy. Zain. He was supposed to
be a gardener. Did they tell you about him?”
I almost shake my head but stop, crossing my arms instead. She doesn’t
acknowledge my silence. She’s not guessing about me. She knows.
“It was two years ago. Commandant caught him. Tortured him in the school’s
dungeon for days. Some nights we could hear him. Screaming. When she was
done with Zain, she gathered every last slave in Blackcliff. She wanted to know
146
who’d been friends with him. Wanted to teach us a lesson for not turning in a
traitor.” Cook’s eyes are fixed on me, unrelenting. “Killed three slaves before
she was satisfied that the message had sunk in. Lucky I’d warned Izzi away from
the boy. Lucky she listened.”
Cook gathers her supplies and shoves them back into a cabinet. She picks up
a cleaver and hacks at a bloody slab of meat waiting on the worktable.
“I don’t know why you ran away from your family to join those rebel
bastards.” She flings the words at me like stones. “I don’t care. Tell them you
quit. Ask for another mission, somewhere where you won’t hurt anyone.
Because if you don’t, you’ll die, and skies only knows what will happen to the
rest of us.” She points the cleaver at me, and I shift back in my chair, watching
the knife. “Is that what you want?” she says. “Death? Izzi tortured?” She leans
forward, spittle flying from her mouth. The knife is inches from my face. “Is it?”
“I didn’t run away,” I burst out. Pop’s body, Nan’s glazed irises, Darin’s
flailing limbs all flash before my eyes. “I didn’t even want to join. My
grandparents—a Mask came—”
I bite my tongue.
Shut it, Laia.
I scowl at the old woman, unsurprised to see
her glaring back.
“Tell me the truth about why you joined the rebels,” she says, “and I’ll keep
my mouth shut about your dirty little secret. Ignore me, and I’ll tell that ice-
hearted vulture upstairs exactly what you are.” She drives the cleaver into the
worktable and drops into the seat next to me, waiting.
Damn her. If I tell her about the raid and what came after, she might still rat
me out. But if I say nothing, I’ve no doubt that she’ll march to the
Commandant’s room this instant. She’s just insane enough to do it.
I have no choice.
As I speak of what happened that night, she remains silent and unmoved.
When I finish, my eyes are swollen, but Cook’s mangled face reveals nothing.
I wipe my face on my sleeve. “Darin’s stuck in prison. It’s only a matter of
time before they torture him to death or sell him as a slave. I have to get him out
before then. But I can’t do it alone. The rebels said if I spied for them, they’d
help me.” I stand shakily. “You could threaten to turn my soul over to the
Nightbringer himself. Doesn’t matter. Darin’s my only family. I have to save
him.”
Cook says nothing, and after a minute passes, I assume she’s chosen to ignore
me. Then, as I move to the door, she speaks.
“Your mother. Mirra.” At the sound of Mother’s name, I jerk my head around.
147
Cook is examining me. “You don’t look like her.”
I’m so surprised I don’t bother to deny it. Cook has to be in her seventies.
She’d have been in her sixties when my parents controlled the Resistance. What
was her real name? What had her role been? “You knew my mother?”
“Knew her? Yes, I knew her. Always liked y-y-your father better.” She clears
her throat and shakes her head in irritation. Strange. I’ve never heard her stutter.
“Kind man. Sm-smart man. Not—not like your m-m-mother.”
“My mother was the Lioness—”
“Your mother—isn’t—worth your words.” Cook’s voice drops into a snarl.
“Never—never listened to anything but her own selfishness. The
Lioness
.” Her
mouth twists around the name. “She’s the reason—the reason—I’m here.” Her
breath heaves now, as if she’s having some sort of fit, but she barrels on,
determined to get out whatever it is she wishes to say. “The Lioness, the
Resistance, and their grand plans. Traitors. Liars. F-fools.” She stands and
reaches for her cleaver. “Don’t trust them.”
“I don’t have a choice,” I say. “I have to.”
“They’ll use you.” Her hands shake, and she grips the counter. She gasps out
the last few words. “They take—take—take. And then—then—they’ll throw you
to the wolves. I warned you. Remember. I warned you.”
148
A
XXII: Elias
t exactly midnight, I return to Blackcliff in full battle armor, dripping
with weaponry. After the Trial of Courage, I’m not about to be caught
shoeless with only a dagger for defense.
Though I’m desperate to know if Hel is all right, I resist the urge to go to the
infirmary. Cain’s orders to stay away didn’t leave room for argument.
As I stalk past the gate guards, I fervently hope not to run into my mother. I
think I’d snap at the sight of her, especially knowing that her scheming nearly
killed Helene. And especially after seeing what she’d done to the slave-girl this
morning.
When I’d seen the
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