Chapters (66)
- Cover
- By Agnes Gomillion and Available From Titan Books
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Preface
- Part One: The School House
- The Rebel
- The Pit
- The Student
- The Last War
- The Queen Bee
- The Librarian
- The Rebirth
- The Rooster
- The Keeper Faction
- The Kitchen Maid
- The Assignment
- The Spy
- The Giant
- Part Two: The Village
- The Memory
- The Awakening
- The Sick Room
- The Auntie, Sky
- The Uncle, Kiwi
- The Boy, Fount
- The Messenger
- The Factions
- The Committee Meeting
- The Ultimatum
- The Party
- The Black Book
- The Second Trip to the Village
- The Truth About the Fever
- The Senator
- The Gamble
- The Fallout
- Part Three: The Kongo
- The Desert
- The Gust
- The Compromise
- The Scorpion
- The Armistice
- The Bandits
- The Silver Pin
- The Bandits’ Camp
- The Optimist
- The First Test
- The Breath
- The Champion
- The Invincible
- The Double Helix
- The Apex
- The Trainee
- The Truth About Voltaire
- The Omen
- The Journey Back
- The Teacher’s Pet
- The Guard and the Notebook
- The Heartbreak
- The Record Keeper
- Back to the Pit
- About the Author
- Acknowledgments
- Also Available from Titan Books
The guard looked around before responding. The hall was dark and empty. “Yes, Mistress.”
I noticed other things about him. He was tall, even for a Kongo, very black and well muscled. He was younger than William but old enough to have sired me. His hands were extremely dry, as was his face, causing his skin to have that ashy white sheen I associated with him. “Don’t—I mean, you don’t have to call me Mistress,” I said.
He dipped his head, clearly worried we were being watched. To ease his mind, I took a step back. If old Barrett was watching from the Supply Room, we wouldn’t appear to be talking.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“No, Mistress!” I’d shocked him.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He looked pained, but whispered, barely moving his lips. “They call me Jay.”
“I’m Arika,” I said, noticing how his eyes ferreted away as he spoke his name.
He didn’t respond. He was so uncomfortable, I knew I had to move on. This was not the oasis, where workers and Keepers toiled alike. There was no Voltaire ordering me about, reminding everyone that the pecking order started with her.
I started down the hall. Then, on impulse, I turned back. “Do you need anything, Jay?”
He glanced at me. “Ma’am?”
“Do you need supplies? A blanket, shoes, anything at all. You just say it, and I’ll get it for you. I have more passes than I need.”
His chalky chin came down a fraction of an inch as he took in the passes crumpled in my hand. I saw his eyes were a rich mahogany. “No, Ma’am,” he said, softly. When I would have insisted, he added, “Ma’am, move on, now, before you get us killed.”
My heart sank. He was right. At the Schoolhouse, there were ferals and madams—nothing in between. I stuffed the passes into the pocket of my britches and backed away, mumbling an apology.
From the Supply Room I selected the simplest aura and blouse in stock. I set the items down before Barrett and produced my passes.
“Just these, dear?”
I stalled. Dear?
Her thin lips wrinkled into a smile. “Why not a leather journal too?” she offered. “I restocked them today.”