Page 42 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Thirty-Five

An Arrow Scheming

Arrow sighs. “I’m sorry. I assumed you didn’t want to help because you can’t understand the stakes. That was unfair of me. I have very low opinions of people in the south. But some of you are all right.”

I do want to help , Forest writes. But I’m terrified of what will happen to Birdie if she goes up those stairs.

“There are stairs in there, then!” Arrow punches his shoulder. He flinches, but she doesn’t apologize. He deserves it, after using his voice on her yesterday.

“That’s our solution,” Arrow says. “We leave Birdie out of it entirely. River, too. We take the burden and risk away from them, do it all ourselves. They’re still innocent.

We aren’t. I got my mom killed, too,” Arrow says, her throat squeezing so tightly she has to force the words out.

She’s never said it to anyone. Not even to herself.

But the day her mother died, Arrow was gone because she was angry.

If Arrow had been there, if she hadn’t been asking about termites around the village, drawing attention…

who knows what might have been different?

Arrows fly straight and true once loosed, so be careful where you aim. But Arrow had been tired of being careful. She wanted to be dangerous. Destructive. Vengeful. And then her mother was gone forever.

Forest frowns, but he doesn’t reject her outright. Then he turns and writes, I don’t actually want you to get hurt, either.

“Sweet of you,” she says, “but not your concern. I can take care of myself. Besides, Lake hasn’t prophesied my death, has she?”

His face goes blank. Arrow’s pulse flutters. It looks like Lake has, in fact, prophesied Arrow’s death. And Forest is hiding it from her because he’d rather she dies than Birdie.

Forest surprises her once again. Lake said you don’t get older than you are now. But that was it. Nothing about stairs.

“If Birdie uses the stairs, she dies, and I don’t survive long enough to get wrinkled and gray.

Which is too bad. I’d be very striking with gray hair.

” Arrow doesn’t want to die, but she’d rather die than leave this house without helping her people.

She has to find out what happened to the stolen children and where they arenow.

Her only purpose here was to kill the southern agent. Iron wouldn’t approve of this. But Iron was wrong about Birdie, so doesn’t it make sense for Arrow to set her sights on something even bigger and more important in the service of their people?

If it means risking her life to get into that hidden staircase and discover what’s actually been happening in the House of Quiet, it’s worth it.

What might have been isn’t; that’s all there is to it.

Another of their sayings, but she likes this one better than Gone is gone .

It’s just as fatalistic, but it’s also peaceful.

Whatever futures she might have, if she doesn’t get them, she doesn’t get them.

She’s never going to have a future with River, anyway. Only a right now.

“But,” Arrow continues, putting a hand out before Forest can write more, “Birdie’s not going on the stairs. Which means she’s not going to die. Which means everything else Lake saw is in flux, too. We can change it all.”

Do you really believe that? Forest looks at her.

“I have to,” she says. Because if Arrow really doesn’t believe anything can be changed, she would have given up and walked into the ocean that day on the beach. Part of her never left that moment, if her dreams are any indication.

The two of us, then , Forest writes.

“The two of us,” Arrow agrees. “I’ll delay, say the tutor complicates things and we should see if we can use him before we make any decisions. But tomorrow morning, when Birdie’s cleaning: We get past the door and find out what’s on the third floor.”

Forest nods.

“Then let’s get out of here before they catch us and suspect we’re conspiring.

Or, worse, in love.” Arrow shudders in an exaggerated display of disgust. She’s rewarded with a smile.

She can see what Birdie likes about Forest. He’s not her taste, but there’s something exhilarating about getting a reaction from someone so stoic.

Arrow heads in the direction of the kitchen, and Forest goes to lurk somewhere in Birdie’s vicinity. Arrow can’t blame him. All she wants to do is lurk near River.

A door slams ahead of her. Arrow hurries in and finds River at the table, calmly kneading dough. There’s a smear of flour on River’s cheek. Arrow closes the distance and brushes it off, happy for an excuse to touch River’s warm skin.

“What was the slamming door?” Arrow asks.

“Cook told me to go see to my studies, and I told her to go see to her bottle. Then she said this is her kitchen, and I told her she was in the way of my oven full of biscuits. Then she threw her hands in the air and said she didn’t know why she bothered feeling sorry for me when I’m insufferable and entitled.

I said I never asked her to feel sorry for me, but could she please fetch the sugar from the pantry if she was going to insist on staying?

At which point she retreated to her room.

Then a beautiful girl came in and touched my cheek and made me wish she was touching me other places, preferably in a dark, private room. ”

Arrow chokes on a laugh, shocked at River’s boldness. Then she leans in close. “As a maid, I have access to many dark, private rooms.”

“And as an insufferable, entitled brat, I demand you take me to one right now, so we can—”

“Hello,” Birdie says, breathless and wild-eyed. “Everything all right? I heard a door slam.”

“Everything’s fine.” Arrow narrows her eyes at Birdie. “Everything all right with you ?”

Forest enters too, trailing Birdie by a few feet, the ever-loyal shadow.

“Just met with the tutor. He’s—” Birdie pauses. “He’s a complication,” she says at last.

Interesting. Birdie’s not telling them everything. “A complication?” Arrow prods. Oh no. What if the tutor tried to put his hands on her? Forest would destroy him. Maybe that’s why Birdie looks like she’s trying desperately not to look upset.

Birdie waves a hand. “Just that we have another set of eyes, and this one is more likely to pay attention than the House Wife or Cook. So be careful.”

“Maybe we pause for a couple of days,” Arrow suggests, frowning like the idea bothers her but also is what’s best.

Birdie nods. “I agree. And if the tutor asks any of you questions, brush him off, or feign madness, or whatever. Be like Lake.”

“What!” Lake shouts, stomping into the kitchen and glaring at all of them. “Birdie again!” She points accusingly. “You keep dying! But you’re here!”

“I’m sorry,” Birdie says politely.

Forest shoots an alarmed look at Arrow. Arrow gives him a minute shake of her head. If he’s not careful, he’s going to clue everyone else in that they have a secret plan in the middle of all the other secret plans.

“It’s very selfish of you,” Lake says with a huff. “Stay off the stairs!”

“But my bedroom is upstairs.”

“Not those stairs! You know what stairs I mean!” Lake whirls on Arrow, redirecting all the anger her little body can hold. “You keep changing things! It’s very confusing.”

“I’m sorry,” Arrow says. “That must be difficult, having confusing information thrown at you.”

Lake softens and nods at her, grateful for the acknowledgment and unaware of the underlying sarcasm. “It is. The biscuits are burned,” she proclaims, then turns on her heel and walks off.

River rushes to the oven and rescues her biscuits. They’re perfect, a golden brown. “She saved them!” River sets the tray on the table to cool.

A burst of hope sparks in Arrow’s chest. She and Forest exchange a weighted glance. They changed something by listening to Lake. Maybe, just maybe, they can change everything.

“Why do we think the House Wife hasn’t started another treatment yet?” River asks, leaning against the table. “We haven’t even seen her since the search for Lake.”

Arrow can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. Buoyed by her newfound optimism, she grabs River’s hand and pulls her into the hallway. “What’s going on?” River asks.

Arrow answers by kissing her. It’s not frantic and lust-soaked like their dreams, and it’s not surprising like their stairwell kiss. Instead, it’s something Arrow hasn’t had in her entire life: pure sweetness.

“Excuse me!” the tutor exclaims, aghast. “ What is happening in this house?”

Arrow pulls away from River. Birdie was right: The tutor is extremely inconvenient.

“Get back to work before I have you disciplined,” he says. Then he turns his gaze on River. “Miss River, please join me in the study. I’m conducting preliminary tests to determine everyone’s individual needs, and—”

River laughs, weaves her fingers through Arrow’s, and says a word that sends thrills down Arrow’s spine. “No.”

She and Arrow run down the hall toward the greenhouse. Maybe Arrow will die on the stairs tomorrow. Maybe she won’t. But she has hope, and she has River, and they have today, together.