Only one day passed before Mac returned. I was in the middle of healing a child who’d broken out in red scabby spots and a fever. When the door opened and he strode in, my stomach dropped. He didn’t say anything and leaned against the wall by the door, waiting. I finished my work, endured the tearful mother’s gratitude, and then went to the sink to wash my hands. Mac stayed silent behind me, most likely still pissed, which was fine by me. I turned around as I dried my hands, expecting to see him still brooding by the door, but sucked in a startled gasp to find him right behind me.
“What—”
“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he said in a soft voice that made a chill walk down my spine. “Did you know that man in the cells?”
“No!” We were back to this again? I couldn’t help yielding back a step, bumping into the sink, but he followed, towering over me. “I told you, Mac, I don’t know him.”
He stared down at me, his face still expressionless and his eyes so dark they looked as black as his hair. Something must have happened. Something big.
“Why are you still asking me that?” I demanded. He stood just inches away from me, trapping me against the sink.
“Because somehow last night he escaped the watchtower, and nobody escapes the fucking watchtower without help.”
I glared up at him, but internally my heart pounded. If he didn’t believe me, how would I prove that I had nothing to do with it? Trey could back me up, but would he after the horrible things I said to him? Not to mention that I wasn’t happy to hear that man escaped either. I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t want to find out.
“Madame is on a warpath, and maybe the guards didn’t notice how he looked at you, but I sure as hell did. He recognized you.”
“I know. I saw it too,” I snapped, deciding impulsively that honesty would be the best choice in this situation. “Maybe he saw me before with the Reapers. I don’t know. But I don’t know him.”
He stared me down for so long that I had to resist the urge to fidget.
“If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Trey if I was here all night?” I caved to the urge to break the silence.
“I already did,” he replied.
My heart sank. Of course, Trey would use this to his advantage. I'd hurt him and gave him the perfect opportunity to hurt me back.
“He said you were here all night,” Mac added.
It took me a second to register what he said. My brows knit together in confusion. “What—” I forced myself to push past my desperate need to understand why Trey hadn’t seized this opportunity and focused on the other reason for my confusion. “Then why are you in here using your scary asshole act on me?”
His eyes widened, surprise flashing through them before he narrowed them again. "Because I want some answers."
“Well I’ve got none,” I snapped.
“I want to know why you looked so scared when you saw him recognize you.”
My mouth went dry as my mind spun with how to answer him. He studied my face, and I had a terrible feeling that if I lied, he would know.
“I try not to be noticed. By anyone.” I managed to get out.
“Why?”
My mind raced with how to avoid giving him the real answer while also not lying. “It doesn’t usually end well.”
“What do you mean?” he pushed, and I didn’t have to fake my temper surging through me.
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I fuckin’ mean.” I gestured at my bruised face.
Something that looked an awful lot like regret flashed across his face. Behind him, the door opened, and a man limped in with a bloody bandage around his leg. He paused in the doorway when he spotted us, me standing with my back to the sink and Mac looming over me.
“This a bad time?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Mac said at the same time.
I gave Mac an annoyed glare and stepped around him. “No. It’s fine. You hurt your leg?”
The man eyed Mac nervously. “You sure—”
“It’s fine,” I repeated. “Mac was just leaving.”
The man's eyes widened and he glanced at Mac again. I refused to turn around to see Mac’s expression, but I imagined he looked less than pleased that I was throwing him out of the clinic.
"See you later, Bones," Mac said smoothly, surprising me. He stepped around me and strode to the door, disappearing through it without a look back as though we'd been discussing the weather.
I took a deep breath and turned back to the injured man. “Let me take a look.”
In the weeks that followed, Trey didn't speak to me unless necessary, though he still guarded the clinic. Every day he went outside at dawn and stayed there until dark when he came in and went to bed. Sometimes Griz or Sam would take the day shift as they traded off helping rebuild the homes that'd been lost in the slums. I continued to find dandelions on the shelf under the mirror, but I never acknowledged them. My face healed and people finally stopped staring. I hardly saw Mac at all except for the couple of times he came and summoned me back to the dungeon to help Madame torture people. Neither of them was Mist, and I couldn't find the courage to ask if she still lived. Mac and I didn't talk at all on those walks to and from the watchtower, and I managed to resist the urge to look at him when the torture sessions ripped more of my soul to shreds. The man who'd escaped had apparently vanished into thin air.
In the mornings I went to the canteen with Zip and the loggers and at night I went out drinking with them. When I got home, I always found a mug of broth and my dinner ration on the exam table, but I didn’t see any of Mac’s crew at Mootzie’s again. Most of those nights ended with me waking up in Zip’s shack. If he ever noticed the brand on my chest, he didn’t mention it, though I doubted he noticed much due to how drunk he got. Not that I had any room to judge because I got shitfaced every night so I wouldn’t freak out about Zip’s hands on my body. I lost any weight I’d managed to put on my bones from throwing up in the mornings. It was a shit routine, and I knew it, but it was better than staying and seeing that hurt on Trey’s face.
Raven started coming by more often. Unlike the others, she didn’t even try to hide her anger at what I’d done to Trey. I attempted to ignore her, but her words often stuck in my heart like barbs.
“Don’t know what you see in that hulking beast,” she said by way of greeting as she stepped through the door one afternoon.
I assumed she meant Zip, but I pressed my lips together and continued doing laundry in the sink.
“But I don’t know what the fuck Trey sees in you either,” she continued.
I scrubbed my dirty clothes with more force than necessary.
“You know you’re lucky you have magic healing powers,” her words dripped with scorn, “otherwise you’d be completely worthless.”
“Do you need something?” I snapped, turning to face her, soapy water dripping off my hands.
Raven widened her eyes. “I’m just doing my job, Boney.”
“Which is what exactly?” I glared at her, refusing to comment on the nickname. “I don’t need help. So go do something else.”
“Can’t.” She smiled, showing all her teeth. “I’m on guard duty.”
“Then go guard outside.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” She picked up a pair of forceps near the sink and clapped them together at me.
I forced myself to clench my jaw shut and turned back to the sink, scrubbing the blood and vomit from my clothes.
“He must be really good in the sack, is that it?”
“What?”
She leaned on the counter, watching me with a sharp light in her blue eyes. “Zip,” she said like I was stupid.
“I’m not talking to you about Zip,” I said through my teeth.
“You know most people just go to the brothel when they want to get laid,” she continued like I hadn’t said anything.
The fury that rushed through me broke through my self-control. “I don’t go to fucking brothels where most of the workers there don’t have any other choice.”
She raised an eyebrow, her voice taunting. “Oh, I touched a nerve. Guess you would know since you were Juck’s whore.”
I flinched and hated that I showed that weakness in front of her. “Get out,” I snapped.
“Make me,” she sneered.
I whipped around to face her, fury blinding me, but the door abruptly opened, and Sam entered. He scanned both of us, quickly reading the energy in the room, and then strode forward to grab Raven by the arm.
“Alright, I’m relieving you of guard duty,” he said firmly, pulling her toward the door.
Raven jerked free. “Fine. I have better things to do anyway.”
She slammed the door hard, making the windows rattle. I turned my back on Sam and went back to washing my clothes, trying to blink back furious tears. I heard Sam slowly approach.
“What’d she say?” he asked sharply.
“Doesn’t matter,” I muttered without turning around.
“Shortcake, that’s—”
“I’m not talkin’ about it,” I interrupted. “Leave me alone.”
“Bones—”
“Go away, Sam,” I tried to say fiercely, but my voice broke, which I hated.
After a brief silence, he let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. I’ll be outside.”
I waited until I heard him walk to the door and step outside, shutting it softly behind him. In the silence, I gingerly touched the horrible brand hiding under my shirt. The hot, angry tears escaped, and I let them fall. I hated Raven, but she spoke the truth. I'd never be able to escape the things Juck had done to me. Even if he hadn't marked his cruelty into my skin, he'd left scars on my very soul.
“Angel!”
My spine went rigid, but I didn’t turn around from the stall of fresh herbs at the market. I recognized Megs’ voice. She still came around every so often, trying to get into the clinic to see me. Sometimes she made it inside, but most of the time whoever guarded the clinic told her to get lost.
“Angel, please! I beg you for your blessing!”
At my side, Sam snorted. “How come you never ask me for a blessing, Megs?”
In the silence, I could just imagine her blinking owlishly in confusion.
“The gods have sent—” she tried.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam interrupted, “we know the spiel. Sorry, we’re fresh outta blessings. Come back next week.”
I stood frozen, holding a sprig of mint and listening for the sound of her footsteps drawing nearer. Instead, I heard her mumble something and shuffle away. I glanced at Sam, unable to hide my surprise.
“What?” he said. “I know how to de-escalate a situation.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Sorry, shoulda realized you wouldn’t know what that means. It’s responding to people in a way that doesn’t make them want to hit you.”
“Everything you say makes me want to hit you,” I said dryly, the words slipping out of my mouth and surprising me.
He looked surprised too, but he grinned. "Yeah well, that's a you problem.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to picking through the mint. I needed to make more tinctures to treat nausea and upset stomach. Once I had what I needed, Sam stepped up and paid. I knew Madame gave Mac some sort of stipend to purchase ingredients and tools necessary for me to work. I started small, but over time I added more things I needed, and no one ever questioned my purchases.
As we walked back to the clinic, my anxiety grew with every step. I knew Trey would be replacing Sam later and in a few hours Zip would—
“So are you an angel?” Sam asked.
Nausea curdled in my stomach. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
I had to unclench my jaw so I could answer. “Because I don’t like it.”
“How come?”
“Just don’t,” I snapped.
“Why?”
Gods, did he want me to hit him? I picked up my pace, but he matched my steps.
“Some girls like bein’ called ‘Angel’,” he pushed, unrelenting.
“How would you know?” I glared at him.
He clutched his chest like I’d stabbed him. “Shortcake, what are you implying?”
I ignored him.
“I’ll have you know I’m a high commodity around here.”
“Funny, seems like I’m the only person you ever talk to.”
“I talk to lots of people!” He grinned.
“Then how ’bout you go talk to one of them and leave me alone.”
“You’d miss me,” he said.
“Let’s try it and see.”
“You wound me!” he said dramatically. “I’m delightful!”
“You’re annoying.”
“Shortcake, you tryin’ to break my poor lil heart?”
“If your heart’s anywhere near as thick as your head, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Hey!” He sounded genuinely indignant now. “That was mean!”
I rolled my eyes, but to my surprise, I had to fight the urge to smile. He grumbled and whined about how mean I was, but for the first time in weeks, he didn't seem angry at me. It felt like a breath of air after being underwater.
We’d made it halfway back to the clinic when Trey came running around a shack and barely managed to avoid crashing into Sam.
“Whoa—” Sam started, catching him by the shoulders.
“It’s Clarity,” Trey gasped. “She’s hurt.”
The three of us sprinted the entire way to the brothel. Trey tried to fill us in as we ran. A regular client of hers liked to get rough. There had been an incident just a couple weeks before I arrived where he nearly killed her. He'd been banned from the brothel for a while, but they missed his coin enough to let him return.
“How bad is it?” I asked, trying to ignore the painful stitch in my side as I ran.
“It looks bad.” Trey’s voice sounded tight with pain and fear. “I can’t tell though.”
I tried to prepare myself for the worst, but my stomach still dropped at the sight of her when I entered her room. She lay on her bed, another brothel worker sitting beside her, dabbing her bloody face with a cloth. I could hardly recognize her swollen face and she breathed raggedly, her nostrils flaring like she struggled to get enough air into her lungs.
I dropped everything I held on the floor and rushed up to her side. Her head turned toward me, but she didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything either, just took her hands and began to work. The golden warmth seemed to flow to every part of her body, healing a multitude of injuries. Slowly the bleeding stopped and the swelling on her face receded. Her breathing evened out. She started trying to mumble something to me, but her eyelids drooped.
“It’s ok, Clarity,” I murmured, squeezing her hands. “Just rest.”
She managed to squeeze my hand back a tiny bit and then her eyes closed. Once she’d been healed, every small scratch erased, I set her hands back down on her stomach. When I looked up, the girl who sat on her other side stared at me, her mouth open in awe. I dropped my gaze, feeling uncomfortable.
“How much does it cost?”
The whispered words had me looking back up. The girl looked nervous, but she swallowed and asked again, “How much does it cost?”
“Nothing,” I said, my throat tight.
Her eyes widened and she glanced between me and Trey and Sam. “Can…can you help me with something?”
I followed her back to her room, noting she shared it with four other girls. It was small and cramped and smelled sour, very different from Clarity’s single room decorated with red silks. Two girls slept in their beds, and the other three beds were empty.
“I have this rash,” the girl said in a tiny whisper, “itches somethin' fierce. I keep scratchin’ it til it bleeds.”
She showed me the rash, and it took just a couple of seconds to heal it. The simple act left her in tears.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“You can always come get me if you get something like this again,” I told her, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. “Please tell the others.”
“The previous healer wouldn’t treat us.” She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “Said we were worse than rusters. He’d drop off some bandages and medicines but that was it.”
“I’m not like that,” I said, furious at the thought of refusing to treat someone because they worked at a brothel. “Tell the others they can come anytime. Or I can come here.”
“Thank you, Bones,” she whispered again as I slipped out the door.
The weather turned colder. I started going for walks along the wall whenever I had free time, trying to covertly examine the layered metal sheets between me and freedom. I could feel the pressure of time building. It wouldn’t be long before the mountains filled up with snow, and then I’d be stuck here until spring. The walls were made of giant sheets of metal welded together and overlapped in layers. It must have taken forever to build, but it stood impressively solid. I couldn’t find any holes or spots that looked a little weak. The smaller gate on the other end of the hold had been chained shut with multiple padlocks and some pieces of wood nailed across it for good measure. The only way out was through the guarded gate.
The loggers got sent out for an extended trip to bring back more wood for winter. I thought about trying to sneak out with them, but Madame kept me so busy torturing people for four nights in a row that I missed my opportunity. I wondered if she did it on purpose.
The first night of Zip's absence, I didn't know what to do with myself. I cleaned the entire clinic just to have something to do since I didn't want to go to Mootzie's by myself. As I dumped out a bucket of dirty water outside, I noticed two small children darting through the shadows. I moved slower, watching them out of the corner of my eye. They followed a drunk man who stumbled down the path eating his dinner ration. He dropped about half of his food, and the children darted out to pick up every tiny crumb. Something in my chest twisted. As I stood there outside, pretending to work, I noticed more. They moved like tiny ghosts with hollow faces and empty eyes.
“You need help?”
I startled, looking at where Trey sat in the wooden chair by the clinic door, watching me.
“No,” I said, going back inside and slamming the door.
When Sam came walking in with my mug of broth and meal ration, I asked him about the kids.
“They’re orphans,” he said. “They’re too young to work, so they have to beg or scrounge for food until they’re big enough to join a workforce, the guards, or a crew.”
I frowned. “They can’t get food at the canteen?”
“Only working folks can get food at the canteen.” His voice didn’t waver, but something flashed in his blue eyes.
“What about the kids who have parents?”
“If the parents can work, they’re allowed a little extra for their children.”
I thought about all the food I’d passed up and the guilt ate me alive. After he left, I quickly divided my ration into half a dozen small packages, leaving just the broth for myself. I gulped down the broth and then shoved the food into a bag that I slung over my shoulder. When I stepped outside, Trey looked up at me, surprised.
“I’m just runnin’ an errand,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He frowned at me. “What errand?”
“A personal one,” I snapped. “I’ll be back, ok?”
I strode off without waiting for an answer. When I couldn't see the clinic any longer, I slowed, watching the shadows for the tiny figures. The first one took off when I got close. I didn't have much luck with the second, so I started leaving the little packages on the ground near their hiding spots. I tried to do it stealthily, slipping through the shadows like they did. I wasn't sure what Madame would do if she caught me, but I doubted she'd be happy about it. I never saw any of the children take the packages, but when I would glance back, the ground would be empty.
By the third night, the children stopped running from me. They didn’t approach, but they stayed put, watching me with giant, hungry eyes. I tried to give my small meals to different kids every night, spreading the food around to as many children as I could. Some were so young it hurt to see them.
On the fifth night, I tried talking to them. Not directly. I didn’t want to scare them off. But when I would set the food package down near them, I would talk in low tones, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“I’m Bones. I’m the healer. If you’re ever sick or hurt, come to the clinic.”
Another few nights passed before the first tiny person slipped through the clinic door so quietly I didn’t hear them, and when I turned around, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A little girl stood inside, her clothes hanging off her thin frame. Her pale blue eyes took up most of her face. When I jumped, so did she, retreating a few steps toward the door.
"It's ok," I blurted out, trying to think of a way to keep her from running. I sank until I sat on the floor, crossing my legs in front of me. "You just scared me a little."
She stopped moving backward, eyeing me. I could tell she had a fever just by looking at her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
“I’m Bones,” I said. “What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer for a long while, but I forced myself to wait.
“Apple,” she whispered.
“Hi, Apple,” I said. “Are you hurt? Or sick?”
She chewed on her lip for a few seconds, but then pulled her filthy sleeve up to reveal an infected gash in her arm.
“Ouch,” I murmured. “That looks like it hurts.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Did you know I can do magic?” I asked. “I can make that go away. You wanna see?”
Her eyes got even larger. I waited and after about a minute, she took tentative steps up to me. I held out my hands, palms up, and let her place her injured arm into my hands.
“It won’t even hurt,” I whispered. “Watch.”
I gently wrapped my fingers around her arm and sent that warmth down my arms and into hers. She jumped when it flowed into her, her eyes widening in surprise, but didn’t pull away. Her little mouth fell open as she watched the oozing wound slowly close up and disappear, leaving a small pink scar. I let go as soon as it healed, folding my hands into my lap. She touched the scar with a filthy finger and then looked back at me, her eyes clear again.
For a moment we stared at each other. She had to be about five or six years old with dirty blonde hair and those huge blue eyes. I wanted to ask her how she got that wound, what happened to her parents, and where she slept at night, but I knew that would just scare her away. So I just stayed quiet and unmoving until she backed to the door before cracking it open. She spared a glance outside, checking for Trey, I assumed. A second later she vanished.
The next night, Apple brought two little boys with red, infected eyes nearly crusted shut. It took some convincing before they let me heal them, but once the first one went, the second one quickly followed. Apple even gave me a tiny, shy smile before the three of them slid out the door.
I sat on the floor for a few minutes after they left, tears pricking in my eyes. I never would have been able to do something like this with Juck. I still wasn't happy to be here, but this felt like something good. I could do something really, truly good here. Something no one else cared to do. I took a deep breath, my mind made up. I wasn't gonna stay, but I could stay through the winter. I could find a way to deal with my soul being shredded during torture sessions if it meant I could make sure these kids survived until spring.
It snowed for the first time three days later. When I set out for my evening "errands," huge flakes of snow drifted through the air. I'd only seen snow once before, so I walked a little slower, holding my hand out and admiring the snowflakes that landed on my thick mitten. Apple met me in the narrow alley between the stables and the blacksmith where we'd arranged to meet that night. The number of kids kept growing. I'd started saving half of my breakfast ration to divide up with my whole dinner ration, but it still wasn't enough. I learned from talking to them that in the summer and early fall, they could eat fallen fruit from the fruit trees and sneak a few vegetables from the garden or a couple of eggs from a chicken nest. Now that winter approached, those options had disappeared. The chickens who ran free through the spring, summer, and fall had been confined to a coop in the giant barn. All the fruit trees had been stripped bare and the fields barren. And despite my help, every night only a third of them got food. They took turns fairly well, but I knew sometimes fights broke out after I left because I healed the injuries.
Apple had become a tiny leader of sorts. She organized the kids into groups, ones who got food and ones who needed healing. I passed out the food and then set to work healing all the scrapes and burns and bruises and rattling coughs. I always used my powers, no matter how small the wound. I doubted they would voluntarily show up for stitches.
“It’s a good thing Madame gave Mac that chance,” an older boy named Atlas said as I healed his twisted ankle.
I peered up at him, my brow furrowed. “What chance?”
“The chance to save Trey.”
“What?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“He got arrested. Mac bartered to get him out.”
“Why was he arrested?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “But she was pissed. She wanted to execute him.”
My mind spun as I tried to absorb that information. Why hadn’t I heard about this?
“Trey was part of the uprising,” Apple added in a whisper from where she’d appeared by my elbow.
My skin prickled. “The uprising?”
"There are people who want to take down Madame," she whispered.
I'd figured out that much. As much as I tried to stay out of it, I couldn't help hearing the questions Madame asked during torture sessions. It wasn't much of a reach to assume she was trying to root out rebels, and of course, Trey would be a part of it. He was the kind of hopeful dreamer who rebellions snatched up for their cause.
“So wait, what chance? What did Mac do?” I whispered back.
“Mac said he’d go get Juck’s secret weapon and give it to her if she let Trey go.” Apple’s eyes were so serious in the dim light.
My heart sank. “And she agreed to that?”
Atlas shrugged again. “Everybody wanted the secret weapon. We thought it was gonna be a magic potion.”
“No, you thought it was gonna be a magic ring,” Apple corrected him.
Atlas scowled at her. “It coulda been. There’s magic rings in stories.”
Apple didn’t look convinced.
"But it's good she gave ’em the chance, ’cause we got you," Atlas said with innocent confidence.
I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure I managed it.
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t have a choice, Bones. Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamn martyr, you’d see that.” Mac’s words ran through my head.
A new thought struck me, and I went cold all over. Was Trey still a part of the rebellion? Would I enter the dungeon one night and see Trey in that chair? Would I be forced to watch Madame carve him up until he screamed? I couldn’t…I couldn’t—
“Bones?” Atlas whispered, jolting me out of my panicked thoughts. Both he and Apple were staring at me with wide, anxious eyes. “You ok?”
I wrestled the panic down, feeling shaky. “I’m ok. How do you know all of this?”
“We hear things,” Atlas said.
“And see things,” Apple added, her eyes haunted.
Gods, I didn’t want to know what sort of things these kids had been exposed to. I took a breath and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I finished healing Atlas and moved on to a tiny, frail girl with a sprained wrist. Her hands were icy cold, and without a second thought, I grabbed my mittens out of my pocket and put them on her small hands after I finished. I needed to figure out a way to clothe these kids better. None of them had appropriate clothing for the upcoming winter. I wondered if I could get away with having them sleep in my loft at night.
“Oh, Bones!” Apple chirped. “Look what I found!” She pulled a perfect tiny acorn out of her pocket and presented it to me, beaming. “It’s for you!”
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking it from her freezing little hand. “That’s—”
The sound of footsteps crunching through the snow from one end of the alley made all their little heads snap up. A figure stepped out of the darkness and they took off like a flock of startled birds. Only Apple stayed at my side, near vibrating with fear and a strange protective anger. I stepped in front of her to shield her, but Trey stepped out of the darkness, eyes wide as he watched the kids disappear.
“Is this what you’ve been doin’ every night?” he asked.
I got defensive. “Why?”
He looked startled at my tone. “Cause I’d have helped you if you asked.”
I clamped down on the rising well of emotion in my throat. “I don’t need help.”
Those sad brown eyes cut like a knife. “Bones, c’mon. How long are you gonna do this?”
“Leave Bones alone,” Apple spit from where she clutched my shirt. She reminded me of that fierce little kitten I’d held in the barn, all adorably puffed up but ready to bite.
Trey looked down at her and smiled, a real genuine smile I hadn’t seen in weeks. “Well, hi.” He crouched, resting his long arms on his knees. “I’m Trey. Who are you?”
“I know who you are.” She tossed her hair back, and I had to fight the urge to smile. “I’m Apple an’ I’m the one who helps Bones.”
Trey nodded, his face grave. “Oh, ok. I apologize, Miss Apple. I was just wonderin’ if I could help Bones too.”
She frowned at him.
“I’m thinkin’, if I helped too, we could feed even more kids every night,” Trey continued.
Her eyes widened, and she glanced up at me. I kept my expression even, unsure of what to say. She squinted back at Trey.
“You gonna give up your ration too?” she asked.
I had to bite back a curse. Trey’s brow furrowed in confusion for a second before understanding crossed his face. He glanced sharply up at me. “You’re giving up your ration?”
I glared at him, my stomach churning. “Where else am I gonna get food?”
“I dunno, I thought you worked out a deal or something with Madame.” He stood up and stepped closer. “How much of your food are you giving up?”
Apple’s cold fingers dug into my side. I rested my hand on top of her head, trying to comfort her. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said.
“Bones.” He rubbed his forehead in a jerky, frustrated motion. “Godsdamnit.”
Panic started to creep in. What if he tried to stop me? What if he told Madame?
“Bones?” Apple whispered.
I forced myself to calm down, turning my back on Trey and kneeling to face her. She looked scared and I hated it.
“I’m gonna go talk to Trey,” I said softly. “It’s gonna be ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
She nodded, casting another worried glance up at Trey before turning and disappearing into the darkness.
I took a breath and stood, turning to Trey, steeling myself. His eyes met mine, shining soft and warm again, and I hated how they made me feel wobbly.
“I’m not gonna stop feeding them,” I hissed. “You can’t make me.”
“I know,” he said.
I blinked, surprised. I’d been expecting him to fight me on this.
He stared at my bare hands. “Where’s your mittens?”
I flushed. “I gave ’em to one of the kids.”
He held my eyes as he stepped closer and reached toward me. I narrowed my eyes, but he just gently took my cold hand. “Let’s go back to the clinic where it’s warm.”
I paused, confused. “Ok.” Shouldn’t he still hate me?
He didn't let go, tugging me along with him as he turned and headed back to the clinic. I knew if I yanked my hand back, he'd let go, but for some stupid reason, I didn't. Back in the clinic, I expected him to drop my hand but if anything, he gripped it tighter. He led me to the wood stove before he stopped and turned, his face full of emotion.
"Bones, you don't have to hide the soft parts of you. Not from me," he murmured. "No matter what's goin' on between us, I will never use them to hurt you.”
I stared at him, rooted to the spot by those words. I didn’t understand how he knew the things that scared me without me saying it out loud. He stepped closer, still holding my hand, and I just continued to stand there staring as he caught my other hand too.
“I was never gonna make you stop feeding them,” he said. “All I want is to make sure you don’t kill yourself trying to save everyone else.”
“I’m not gonna kill myself,” I scoffed weakly.
He brought my icy hands up to his lips, blowing warm breath onto my fingers. I knew I should pull away. I knew I should say something cruel to push him away, but I couldn’t.
“You know what I think about almost every night?” he murmured.
I could’ve sworn he pressed his lips briefly to my knuckles, but I wasn’t sure. I thought I’d ripped out all the feelings I had for him, but I could feel them there again, tiny shoots uncurling and stretching upwards.
“I think about your face when Lana pulled that gun on you. You looked relieved. You were gonna just sit there and let her kill you. An’ all I knew was that I couldn’t let that happen.”
My eyes burned and I blinked, trying to get ahold of myself, but the words spilled out. “You should hate me.”
“Would you believe me if I said I tried?” That crooked smile ghosted across his lips.
“Trey—”
“Let me help you,” he interrupted. “You wanna be with Zip? That’s fine. Be with Zip. But please, Bones. Please stop pushin’ me away. I’m never gonna try to make you stop caring, ok? It’s one of the most beautiful things about you.” He smiled. “Even though you try so damn hard to act like you don’t care at all.”
He let go of my hands and stepped back, leaving me chilled. I tried to think of something to say, but my brain had dropped clean out of my head.
“I’ll talk to Mac about the kids, ok? See if we can work out a way to get some extra food.”
“No,” I said sharply and he frowned, but I continued before he could protest, “Let me talk to Madame. I’m sure I can work out a deal.”
He studied me for a moment but nodded. "Alright. I'll let you handle it. Anything else?"
“I want to let ’em sleep in the loft,” I blurted out. “There’s plenty of room, and they’re so small, and it’s gettin’ so cold. I can—”
“Ok.”
I fell silent, staring at him.
“Ok,” he repeated. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Ok,” I echoed. I hoped I didn’t look as off-balance as I felt.
“Have you been eating anything for dinner?”
I winced. “My broth.”
He shook his head at me, but he smiled. “You dumbass.”
I tried to glare at him, but I wasn’t sure I managed it.
“Can we be friends?” he asked, holding out his hand like he wanted to shake.
I hesitated, but before I could find the strength to resist, I put my hand in his again. His warm fingers curled around mine and gave it a firm shake.
“Friends,” I whispered and his face transformed into that sunshine smile.
Gods, I wasn’t sure I could hate Mac for dragging me here now that I knew why. I remembered the tension between Mac and Trey on our journey back to the Vault. I remembered Trey saying if they’d known Juck’s secret weapon was a person, they wouldn’t have taken the job. I doubted Mac would say the same if the alternative was Trey’s death.
I didn’t like the realization that Mac and I were more similar than I thought.
The next morning I went to see Madame. I'd never attempted to see her without being summoned, so I wasn't sure she'd see me, but when I spoke to the guards at the entrance of the watchtower, they beckoned me inside. Madame sat at a desk in her office with a map in front of her. She scanned me as I came in, her eyes as cold as always.
“What is it, Bones?”
“I want to use the orphans as my messengers,” I said, keeping my voice steady and respectful. “That way people can get messages to me or send for me if they need help and I can send messages and medicine to people. It’s not fair of me to keep Mac’s crew tied up. They’ve got better things to do.”
She eyed me for a moment. “You give those kids anything and you’ll never see it again.”
“I thought of that. An’ I thought maybe if I could offer them shelter and food at the clinic, they’d be more willing to work for me.”
Her eyebrows raised. “You want to house and feed the orphans at the clinic?”
“I know your policy is that only working folks can get rations,” I chose my words carefully. “I want to put them to work. I need the help, an’ they need the food and shelter. Everybody wins.”
She leaned forward, steepling her hands together. “Those kids become a vital part of our workforce once they’re big enough.”
I swallowed down the fury rising in my throat. She didn't want to take care of these kids, but she still expected them to work for her once they got older. "This could be a temporary thing. They could work for me until they're old enough to move on."
In the silence, I held my breath. I didn’t have a backup plan, and I had no clue what to do if she said no. Finally, she nodded.
“Alright. I think your plan could work. But you’ll be responsible for them, you hear? They step out of line and it’s on your head.”
“Yes ma’am,” I agreed, relief coursing through me.
“Tell Mac to find some supplies. I’ll tell the canteen you’re allowed to feed them.”
I walked outside and despite the cold wind, I felt warm inside and out.