Page 16 of Never Lost

“Hey, bruh, is your hand okay?” asked Arlo curiously. “It looks like?—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off, a little too quickly. “I just kind of busted it up, uh, lifting weights. Doctor says I just need to rest it.”

Arlo raised his eyebrows and turned to survey the view on the other side of the car. “If you say so.”

It took us another fifteen minutes to pull into the building’s circular drive, and only an additional ten seconds for me to realize that the guy in the vest standing in the circle with his hand outstretched wanted to park my car for me. I glanced at Arlo and Felix, who made no sign that they’d noticed anything amiss. Yet.

At sunset, the rooftop restaurant was at both its most stunning and its most crowded, with hanging lanterns and low tables draped in gauzy curtains to cordon off lounge spaces for the chicest patrons. Who were no less chic than I was, thanks to Lemaya, though they were a hell of a lot more relaxed.

Who were decidedlynotrelaxed were the slaves, whom I spotted immediately in dark heavy-looking uniforms—as usual, running food, washing dishes, cleaning toilets, and doingwhatever other unpleasant kitchen chores none of the paid staff wanted to do.

With a start, I realized that Felix—who’d been making bored observations about the desert scenery on the drive over—was now following my gaze suspiciously.

Shit. By noticing the slaves at all, I’d made my first mistake. To Corey and his ilk, slaves were beneath notice. Until they dared open their mouths, anyway.

The hostess—a free girl, as per usual for a front-facing role—approached.

“Table for three,” I said. “Yourbesttable,” I corrected myself, eyes flitting to Felix, who—while Arlo tapped his phone—just stood there with his arms folded, waiting for me to fuck up again.

Yeah? I’ll fuckyouup, asshole.It made me feel a little better, at least. Good enough to pull out my brand-new Italian leather wallet and hand the hostess a one-hundred-dollar bill, and I could almost feel the girl’s—and Felix’s—eyes widen. “Immediately.”

HER

Well, twenty minutes had come and gone. Ten times over.

There was only one high window, with nothing outside, but enough to know that the sun was gone. The room, the entire house, was silent.

The girls must be free by now. I had to believe they were, anyway. That this would be worth something. That mylifewould be worth something.

You’re not the princess here, princess, and Daddy’s not the king.

For Obadiah, this was Mecca. His old master’s daughter lay chained on the bed, at his mercy. Payback, not only for himself,but for all the slaves. For years of pain, humiliation, and cruelty. And who’s to say I didn’t owe it to them? If not for anything I’d done personally, then for all the wrong I’d seen and done nothing about; for being a daughter of privilege and plenty in a cruel, broken world built on their backs.

You didn’t have a choice, any more than I did.

Well. There was one, at least, who thought my soul unblemished. My boy had had every chance to condemn me, and had not. Had weighed me in the balance and found me unwanting.

You have your whole life to do good in the world. You’ve already started.

I made a promise, then and there. If I ever got out of this room, I would do nothingbutgood for the rest of my life. Wherever I found to do it, whether I owed it or not.

And if I didn’t get out? Well, that was just doing penance in a different way.

He hadn’t told me he loved me. As terrified as he was, he’d chosen a poem—When You Are Old, the one I’d caught him reading at Erica’s—to do it for him. If I ever saw him again—even if it was only on the other side, the one he didn’t believe in—I’d recite that verse back to him from memory. I recited it now, over and over again, under my breath, like a prayer. Something else he didn’t believe in.

But I did.

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

I closed my eyes, my eyelashes sticking to my sodden cheeks. If he were here now, he’d see those sorrows rain down. If he were here now, he’d see how proud I would make him.

HIM