“Everything go OK with Painter last night?” she asked, testing the waters.
“Yeah, it was fine,” he said. He glanced up at her quickly, and then Wren focused on his boots as he buckled them on. “I think he’s just trying to figure out how to deal with everything.”
Wren still seemed to be avoiding eye contact for some reason, but his mood was much improved over the night before. Maybe he had just been tired after all, Cass thought.
They loaded up their packs and went into the hall together, where the rest of the team had gathered. Even Painter was there, though Cass didn’t know who had roused him, or if anyone had.
Elan came to meet them, and though they initially tried to refuse, he managed to convince them to share one last meal together. They were joined by Lil and a couple of the others who they’d met at the village’s ruins.
It was a simple meal, but good and filling, and the conversation was sparse but genuine. Elan tried once more to encourage the group to remain for another day or so. But Gamble held firm. Mouse did insist on making one final check of the wounded, even though after his work the previous night the caregivers had everything well in hand.
Afterwards, Lil and Elan escorted them to the gates, where they said their goodbyes. Lil held Wren in a lingering embrace long enough that Wren actually blushed with embarrassment.
The team passed through the two iron gates back out into the open and assumed their usual positions, surrounding Cass, Wren, and Painter. Broken clouds streaked the sky above, the last remnants of the storm that had passed in the night. The air was cool and damp, and everywhere the soaked pavement glistened under the morning sun, and shone in places pooled with rainwater. The sunlight confused Cass’s vision, and she drew down her veil to reduce the glare. Beside her, Painter donned his goggles.
Wick led them off on yet another unexpected phase of their journey. Cass glanced back at the refuge and saw Lil and Elan still watching them as they left. She wondered if they would ever see one another again, and found herself hoping so. And at the same time, she doubted it very much.
NINETEEN
The morning passed slowly, and the view changed little as they marched east and maybe a bit to the south. They certainly hadn’t intended for it to be quite so roundabout, but the path they’d taken from Morningside — to where they were now — would’ve thrown off all but the most determined of trackers. If nothing else, certainly no one would be able to anticipate where they were headed based on their previous movements.
As they walked, Cass mulled over all she knew about the situation in Morningside. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get the pieces to fit together in any way that made sense to her. She might have misjudged North altogether, but it still didn’t account for all that had occurred. There were too many threads dangling, too many unanswered questions. But then, maybe she was thinking about it all wrong. She’d been assuming there had been a single plan all along, perfectly executed. What if, instead, it hadn’t gone to plan at all?
There had always been politics at play when it came to the Council. She didn’t for one moment believe that they had agreed to elevate Wren to governor out of any sense of altruism. He had been largely intended as a figurehead, to quell the rising panic after Underdown’s death, and she’d agreed, knowing it would secure their place in the city. But once Wren’s abilities had become widely known, the people of Morningside had seemed to revere him even more highly than his father. Had the Council members truly been trying to unseat him? Or had something gone terribly wrong?
“Hey,” Wick said from the front. “Persona non grata. What’s the plural of that?”
“I reckon we are,” said Finn.
“Personae non gratae,” Swoop muttered.
“Oh ho ho,” Wick said, looking over his shoulder at Swoop. “A gentleman and a scholar, huh?”
Swoop spat.
“What does that mean?” Wren asked, and it dawned on Cass that she’d never told Wren and Painter about the executive order from Morningside.
“It means an unwelcome person,” Sky said.
“Like an exile?” Wren said.
“Pretty much,” Sky said.
Wren was quiet for a moment.
Cass was still trying to figure out how to share the news when he spoke again. “Does that mean we can’t go home?”
Gamble glanced at Cass and grimaced, only then realizing the situation.
“For now,” Cass said. “But we’re going to figure it out, OK?”
“Wait,” said Painter. “What?”
“We found out last night, after you were asleep,” Cass said. “The Council cut us off.”
“What? Whuh-wh-why?”
“Because of what happened… to Connor and Aron.”
“Actually,” Finn said, “it didn’t mention Aron. And it didn’t mention Painter, either.”
It took a moment for the implication of that to sink in for Cass. “They think I killed him?” she said.
“Or,” Mouse said, “they want everyone else to think that.”
They all walked on in thoughtful silence for a few moments.
Cass didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her before. Of course they’d think she was the one who had killed Connor. There were no witnesses, and no reason for anyone to suspect that Painter would ever have been involved. Maybe it’d been a mistake to bring him with them after all.
“Well,” Wick said. “On the bright side, at least one of us can go home.”
“We’re all goin’ home,” Swoop said. “Just might get a little loud when we do.”
“I hope Uncle Aron’s OK,” Wren said quietly.
They marched on, breaking every hour or so to rest, often while Wick and Swoop scouted ahead, behind, or around. Cass never was sure what exactly they were looking for, but the fact that they hadn’t encountered any traps or other travelers thus far probably had a lot to do with their vigilance.
At every stop, Mouse made the rounds to double-check everyone’s water intake, and he fussed mildly at both Wren and Painter for not drinking more. Both the boys had kept mostly quiet during the journey, which was fast becoming the norm.
Their progress was steady over the course of a few hours. The streaks of clouds overhead steadily thickened and drew together and eventually hid the sun from view. Around them the area began to open out; buildings were spaced farther apart, and didn’t tower as high, rarely reaching more than three stories. The streets and alleys were wider here, and abandoned living quarters sat comfortably between deserted shops and empty taverns. Whatever the place used to be, its layout gave Cass a less rushed feeling, like it was once a community where it had been alright to take your time, and people had a little more room to live. In the distance, Cass caught a glimpse of a tall building towering above the others.
“We’re not far now,” Wick said. “How do you want to handle the approach, G?”
“I hate to split up too much,” she answered. “But I don’t think it’s wise to roll up to the front gate with our Awakened friends without announcing ourselves first.”
“What if they just keep covered up?” Swoop asked.
“Might draw more attention than we want. And questions.”
“I don’t see how we can escape that,” Mouse said. “And I don’t think any explanation is actually going to prepare anybody.”
“Fair enough,” Gamble said. “Miss Cass, what do you think?”
“I’d rather stay together if we can make it work,” Cass answered.
“Then we’ll make it work,” Gamble replied. “Tighten up a little, keep the weapons casual but in plain view. I want to look threatening without having to threaten. And Sky, I want you on overwatch anyway.”