Page 39

Six Months Later

Henshaw frowns and hands me the small bag filled with antibacteriums and pain reliever. “Make sure the nurses don’t give them unless they’re absolutely—”

“I will.”

He stares down the hospital hallway. “The poppy extract needs to be rationed. Only given by mouth. Maximum of four times a day.”

Of course, I’ve known that for years, since long before I ever met him. But from our six months of training together, I know it makes him feel better to reiterate it every time. “Got it.”

His lips form a line. “Maybe I should come.”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “You’re welcome to.”

As if he were waiting for my offer, he cracks a rare smile. “I’ll get my coat.”

After loading up my saddlebag, we ride through the checkpoint at the fence, then carry on to the worksite a hundred feet away.

An army of men work, shoveling rock, cutting down trees, and sawing wood.

Despite the cooler fall weather, Samuel is a sweaty mess as he carries a couple logs on his shoulder.

We ride past them until I feel the pull of the languid warmth of the connection guiding me to Tristan.

I find him leaning over a portable table, studying papers with the newly elected mayor of Kingsland.

Vador points at something they’re reading as Tristan’s head snaps up.

Our eyes meet.

“Iz, it’s here!”

I’m not prepared for the tidal wave of his childlike excitement. He’s practically giddy. And when I look behind him at the mammoth of a machine, I see why.

He helps me down from my horse and tugs me by the hand toward the engine of his transportation tram. It still sits on the trailer that took seventeen wagon horses to pull. Other trailers line up not far away and appear to be filled with even-size logs that have been removed from old tracks.

“It’s—”

“Incredible,”

Tristan finishes. “Come. You have to see inside.”

His hands grip my hips, and he lifts me into the small cabin. The walls are made of black, dirty metal and the windows are covered in soot. A shovel and a pile of dark rocks lie on the floor.

“It works with steam to convert the heat energy into mechanical energy. We burn the coal in here”—he points to a small round opening in the wall beside us—“which heats the water in the tubes behind it, turning it into steam. Then we have pistons . . .”

His enthusiasm skitters over my skin, making me feel alive. It’s impressive how knowledgeable he is about this old-world relic. And passionate.

“And the coal mine expansion is nearly complete,”

he continues. “Soon, we’ll have more than we need to heat our homes, which can be used for the tram or to trade. Maybe we could even start making our own steel, instead of harvesting it. Can you imagine? This could be the start of our own industrial revolution.”

My teeth drag over my lip as I watch his handsome face practically glow with his explanation. I don’t understand most of what he’s saying.

But I’m absolutely enchanted by him.

Tristan stops talking. Tips his head with a curious look. Then, moves to surround me in his arms.

“Keep talking trams to me,”

I whisper.

He laughs. “Actually, I was thinking I shouldn’t talk at all right now.”

Heat swirls equally in our bellies as my hands move to his firm chest, then the nape of his neck.

His lips come down on mine, and I quickly deepen the kiss.

The urgency of it causes him to melt like honeycomb in fire around me, his arms pulling me closer.

“What is taking so—”

Henshaw appears at the open door. “Oh, I see.”

He continues standing there, and Tristan reluctantly loosens his hold, then drops his forehead to mine.

“Well, since you’re done. Can we go?”

Henshaw asks.

After over two hours of riding, we arrive in Hanook to Caro yelling at some soldiers. “You two, on your horses. Yes, you! There are six buckets here that need filling up. To the top—none of this half-bucket nonsense, either.”

She turns and spots us. Her fists land on her thin hips. “You’re here,”

she says with a tight grin. Not pleasant, but not unpolite.

I nod. It wasn’t my idea that she, Annette, and their accomplices be cast out of Kingsland for fifteen months. That sentence came from a jury of their peers. But it was my idea that they be given a place in the clans, with conditions like good behavior, of course. They deserved to be punished for their attack on Enola and me, but losing their families and homes was punishment enough; they didn’t need to die in the forest. However, my reasons for bringing them here weren’t purely for their welfare. With so many injured after the battle with Gerald, it made sense for trained nurses to lend a hand.

I didn’t foresee the other benefit.

“Now we need our firewood topped up. Persis and Rufus!”

Caro snaps her fingers at the men who just tied their horses to the hitching post. “Don’t look at me that way. You have hands. Use them.”

My eyes meet Tristan’s, and it’s all we can do not to laugh. Never in a million years did we think changing the culture in Hanook would start with someone like Caro.

Tristan squeezes my fingers as we near the new hospital—an empty home. His unyielding watchfulness has returned now that we’re surrounded by clansmen. His free hand is open and ready to grab his knife. Do you want some time alone with your mum? I can stay outside and guard the door. I won’t be far.

I hesitate, unsure.

Almost immediately after returning to Kingsland, I reached out to Liam.

I couldn’t live with him thinking I was dead, and it never felt right to simply walk away from our friendship and the dreams we had for the clans.

But my re-entry here has been rough.

At times, I’ve feared for my life.

After Liam agreed to allow me to anonymously distribute forbidden books, most of them were burned.

Some women were even punished for reading them.

But when I got word that Tarta, a Maska woman, had been beaten by her husband and might not survive, I arranged for her to be brought to Henshaw.

Together, we did an operation to stop the bleeding in her spleen, and she recovered, and although she was given the choice to stay in Kingsland, she chose to return to the clans.

News that I was alive spread quickly after that.

As the new Saraf, Liam has done well to gain the respect of the clansmen.

Even the remaining Maska have fallen into line—not that they had a choice.

The clansmen liked the radical idea of giving every man a vote in future decisions.

And only a handful objected to eliminating the burning of traitors.

However, when the people found out I was alive, it called into question Liam’s leadership.

There was an uproar.

Nearly another uprising.

Liam held a town meeting and explained the depths of Father’s crimes and my reasons for doing what I did.

It quieted some but not all.

So Liam made a decree that I was not to be touched or there would be consequences in the form of evictions, and slowly, I’ve been able to start visiting the clans.

It means Tristan’s never far from my side, his hand ready to grab his knife or bow.

“Maybe stay by the door. This should only take a minute,”

I say to him.

Ten beds line the walls of the main hospital room, and about half are filled with people.

There’s no missing the stares and whispers as I make my way to the kitchen.

Just as many women glare after me as the men.

To some, or maybe most, I’m still a traitor.

I’ve decided I can live with that.

My eyes catch on Annette in the corner, making a bed. She acknowledges me with a stoic lifting of her head.

I return it. We’re not friends, nor will we likely ever be. But I think somewhere along this journey, she’s realized that me advocating for her to be placed with the clans means I saved her life.

I find Mum grinding herbs in the kitchen, her blond hair falling a little out of her long braid.

“Hello,” I say.

She smiles when she spots me and tugs me to her for a quick side hug. “How are you?”

Her gaze slides over me. “You look well.”

“I am.”

“Miriam,”

Henshaw says as he enters the kitchen. He holds up one of the bags from my saddle. “Here are the medicines you were running short on.”

He moves to take in her work on the table. “And what are you mixing here? Is this foxglove?”

I grin at Mum with wide eyes, which she ignores.

She’s not ready or willing to consider that there could be an additional reason for Henshaw’s curiosity.

But his presence has had a profound effect.

I think she’s pleasantly baffled, and even flattered, that a man would be interested in healing, and Henshaw’s done more to open Mum’s mind to old-world medicine than I could ever have accomplished.

“No, this is maryclover. Mrs. Plenus is struggling with her joints, so I was going to make her a tea.”

“Interesting. And does that reduce the swelling in the joints or just mask the discomfort?”

Backing out of the kitchen now that I’ve been forgotten, I find Tristan and grab the rest of my saddlebag contents, a sack filled with books.

We pause to ring the bell on the door of the old schoolhouse, then work together to set up the chairs. Seconds later, the children filter in.

In addition to becoming a doctor and working to grow our knowledge of medicine, both from plants and the old world, I’ve been given a dream.

It didn’t come to me like Farron’s vision of Kingsland—at least I don’t think so.

It wasn’t crystal clear.

It’s arrived like waves pounding the shoreline, a slow affirmation and reaffirmation that wouldn’t stop.

And just like how Farron’s prophecy of where to locate Kingsland came true, this feels like a promise for the clans.

Something better is coming: people valuing the freedom of choice.

That’s why, while it’s been good for the clansmen to see women start and run a hospital in Hanook, I feel like it’s not enough, and I try to donate one day a week to the children, making sure they get access to an education that isn’t about indoctrinating fear.

Though plumbing and electricity isn’t going to happen anytime soon, I want to help the girls and boys, who, like me, want to learn to read and write and dream impossible things.

Perhaps our most important gift is showing them the beauty in embracing a way that doesn’t hold anyone back.

It’s a mental shift that takes time.

I should know.

Even I couldn’t imagine making change in the clans beyond choosing a different male leader.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized change, even something small, could come from me.

As the classroom fills, I greet the children.

Seven in total out of the forty-four who live in the clans.

Four girls, three boys.

I start them off with a parable.

“There once was a little girl who knew the name of every kind of mushroom. She knew which ones she could eat, and which ones would make her sick. She knew which ones she could use to dye her clothes.”

I pause as Tristan sends me a memory of our kiss on the tram. I clear my throat and throw him a look.

You’re a menace.

He smiles from his chair in the back, looking entirely too handsome.

I continue uninterrupted this time and use the story to teach them about the types of mushrooms and the dangers of eating the wrong kind.

We talk about why they must never eat a mushroom without an adult checking it first.

Then, I end by explaining that anyone can pick, cook, and eat the mushrooms, both girls and boys.

An hour later, Freia arrives to take over. She joins me in the front room and gives me a quick embrace.

“Now, who’s ready to learn how to build a birdhouse?”

she shouts.

The kids cheer and jump from their chairs to run out the door.

Liam is waiting for them, a table set up on the grass with his supplies. He tips his head at us, then plucks a handsaw out of the hands of a starry-eyed six-year-old Polly. “Um . . . maybe you should let me show you how to use that first.”

I cover my laugh with my hand, but my heart is exploding. How excited would I have been to learn how to use a saw, at any age?

Liam’s shoulder remains stiff and lower than it should be, but that doesn’t stop him from demonstrating how to saw the wood and hammer the nails.

Freia and I work with the children, helping with crowd control, but I don’t miss the way Liam’s eyes linger on Freia when she kisses the finger of a child who got a splinter.

Time to go, Tristan sends to me, from his spot standing guard.

I glance at the position of the sun in the sky in dismay. Once the tram track is finished, our time here won’t be dictated by the amount of sunlight left in the day. Perhaps we can even come more than once a week. With a touch to Freia’s shoulder and a quick wave to Liam, we leave the controlled chaos, then stop at the small library box to add the new books from my sack.

The box has been destroyed and remade five times, and every time Liam has rebuilt it bigger. I run my fingers over the eight books left inside, hoping people aren’t taking them to toss into a fire. That they’re gaining the courage to read them, learning empathy through the novels and new and exciting facts from the books of knowledge.

Maybe then it will open their eyes to a wider world of possibilities, just as it did for me.