Renegade (18 page)

When we first entered the basement, I thought he had been sleeping but as I hurry through the door a second time, panicked at what I missed, the first person I see is Hart
sitting on the bed sipping water from one of our containers.

I am out of breath and frantic. ‘You’re okay?’ I pant.

I can tell from his pained ‘I’m fine’ that he isn’t.

‘Let’s see it,’ I demand, striding across the room.

He huffs and puffs and generally acts like a boy about things, before finally rolling up his sleeve. Across his forearm are strips from some of the clothing salvaged from Beaconsfield that have
been pressed together and bound tightly.

‘It was the best I could do,’ Pietra says, joining me by the bed.

‘It was only a nick,’ Hart says with an infuriating half-grin.

‘You’ve been injured since we left the castle,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.’

He looks away, annoyed. ‘You’re one to talk.’

‘How did it happen?’

Hart stares at the ground, this time in embarrassment. ‘I did it myself. The sword’s heavier than it looks. After everything with the Kingsman, I overcompensated when I was trying to
pull away.’

I have held the swords myself and know that it isn’t so much the weight that is awkward, more the way they are balanced. Once you start to swing one, it is as if the weapon has a mind of
its own, yanking you forward. For a group as unskilled and untrained as we are, it was only a matter of time until we ended up hurting ourselves.

‘Knave’s people gave me a little ointment and some painkillers just in case,’ Pietra says. ‘We’re not going to be able to do any better than that. It will need
cleaning a couple of times a day but I can do that. There was a lot of blood but it is longer than it is deep. It looks worse than it is.’

‘How’s the cough?’ I say, looking at Hart again.

‘Still there.’

‘Are you still bringing up blood?’

‘Not as much as I was.’ I wait for him to meet my gaze, eyebrows raised suspiciously. ‘Honestly,’ he adds.

Pietra shrugs to indicate she doesn’t know enough to say differently.

It’s nice that the sink has running water and the first thing I do is wash the dye from my hair to feel more like myself. By the time I am finished, I have to scrub my hands until the
blackened filthy liquid finally runs clear. Under the sink is a small circular mirror cracked in three separate places, though it is enough for me to check myself over and see that I look more or
less like I did before.

We only have a few cans of food left but the squirrel Faith caught is plump and has been boiling for long enough to be wonderfully tender. We pull off the meat and share it out equally and then
sit in a circle as I tell them about my escape. Everyone oohs and aahs in the right places as I find myself playing up the story ever so slightly and actually enjoying myself. There is even a
gentle round of applause and laughter as I finish by telling them the rumour about my twin who has the opposite colour hair.

The last thing I tell them is about the second Offering. There is a general sense of outrage, especially when I reveal that ten-year-olds will be judged too. I hope a similar type of anger is
spreading around the country.

‘My brother turned ten a few weeks ago,’ I say. ‘I’m pretty sure this is going to be their way of making him as wanted as I am.’

The nods of agreement are reassuring in that it doesn’t make me feel paranoid but at the same time, it would have been nice if someone told me I was imagining everything.

In a rush, I continue: ‘There is a contact called X in Lancaster in the North Realm who says he has something that can help me take the fight to the King but first I want to go home to
Martindale. My family are more or less in the same direction as X and my mum and brother will be hiding somewhere. I need to find them and tell them about the Offering in case they think
they’re safe. You don’t all have to come if you would rather go to your own families.’

Jela and Pietra both insist they are coming as they have no brothers or sisters. Going further north takes them closer to home if they change their minds.

‘I’ve got six sisters,’ Imrin says. ‘They all know what they’re doing. I’d only get in the way.’

Hart is blinking back tears, which he says is because his arm is stinging – but his one other word gives him away: ‘Home.’

I am looking forward to seeing the dusty streets, frosted meadows and damp trees of winter in Martindale. I only left a few months ago but Hart hasn’t been home in over two years, since he
became our village’s first Offering.

Not everyone knows what happened with Faith’s family but if they were unsure of where her allegiance lies, she leaves them in no doubt. ‘Where you go, I go,’ she says
firmly.

We spend the remainder of daylight resting as best we can, with two people on watch, one inside the hatch, one outside. This time we wait until it is completely dark, not just dusk, before
heading out. Directly north would take us through Middle England, so we spend half the night edging around the city to the west before the smattering of houses turns into the green fields that
looked so appealing when Imrin and I gazed at the view from the top of the North Tower.

As we rest during the day, the sun shines consistently but offers little heat and the clear skies make each night colder than the one before. It would be more comfortable if we could find
derelict houses in which to stay during the days but we see many more pockets of light around the towns and villages than we have before. We assume they are either Kingsmen or the vigilante squads.
It is likely the reward for capturing me has increased since we left Middle England. The way I escaped from two of the most secure buildings in the country – Windsor Castle and the North
Tower – is an embarrassment to everyone involved.

The more the King offers, the more people will venture onto the streets desperate to find me. More girls will be harmed for looking like me – collateral damage in a conflict I don’t
want and didn’t start.

I can’t help but think Knave and Vez will be delighted at how the myth surrounding me is growing greater than ever.

With the lack of any roof other than the forests, any inhibitions we may have had are long gone as we huddle together under blankets, leaves, bushes and anything else we can find to stay warm.
Pietra is spending more time with Hart, while I’m still drifting towards Imrin for comfort in the dark.

After our third night of walking, just as the sky is turning blue, it begins to snow. It is hard to tell where the flakes are coming from as the morning is bright, almost cloudless. Somehow, the
gentle flurry continues, drifting softly to the ground and settling as we huddle in a hollow surrounded by small saplings. We drape the blankets across some of the lower branches and sit
underneath, packed together, watching as the green and brown around us slowly turns white.

‘Do you guys have Christmas?’ Imrin asks, his breath drifting into the centre of our circle.

‘Doesn’t everyone have Christmas?’ Jela replies.

There is a general nod of agreement. It sounds ridiculous but, until recently, none of us had any contact with people in the other Realms. Jela, Pietra, Hart and myself all come from the North
but Faith is from the South, Imrin the West.

‘When it was Christmas a few years ago, it snowed like this,’ Imrin says. ‘There’s this big hill near where I live and we trekked to the top and slid down on a bag. Me
and my sisters did it over and over until it was dark and our dad had to come looking for us. At first he was shouting about how we’d missed our presents and that we weren’t going to
get anything. Then he went up and tried it himself. Half an hour later and Mum was out, hands on her hips, bellowing at us for being late. Poor Dad was halfway down the hill on a bag when she
arrived. He was giggling like one of my sisters but when he reached the bottom, Mum started shouting at him, saying he was setting a bad example. He took all the flak for us and then we went inside
and had this big meal. Mum had been keeping a bit of our rations back each week for months. We ate and ate.’

‘Did you get your presents?’ I ask.

Imrin laughs. ‘A pair of woollen gloves. Mum had knitted them herself. They were brilliant – but would have probably been more use before I spent six hours sliding down a hill in the
snow.’

Because of the temperature, nobody seems tired, so we spend hours sitting and talking. We share our memories of various Christmases. Somehow, it is a tradition that hasn’t been lost and we
talk about gifts and food, until we move on to our ideal meal. Imrin’s is chicken, which has everyone telling him that the squirrels we eat taste just like chicken anyway.

‘Not like my mum makes it,’ he says. ‘She does this thing where she soaks the chicken in leaves and spices for days at a time. Then she’ll leave it cooking slowly for
another day. By the time we have it, the whole thing is falling apart.’

We are all feeling hungry as he finishes but it doesn’t stop everyone else from explaining their favourites. Faith comes to life as she tells us about a scone she once had from the bakery
in the centre of her town. Jela talks of a stew her mother makes while Pietra, who has lived in a city her entire life, tells us about a bar of chocolate she was given as a child which she says she
can still taste if she closes her eyes.

None of us talks about the vast banquet we went to once a week at Windsor. At the start, I remember enjoying the food but when I try to think of it now, everything seems stale and grey.

‘What’s your favourite?’ Faith asks, just as I think I have escaped the conversation.

‘This is going to sound silly,’ I say. ‘But jam. My mother got me some before the Reckoning. It was this little pot and I made sure she and my brother had some but it was
amazing.’

‘Out of everything, you choose jam,’ Imrin says disbelievingly.

‘At least I didn’t go for glorified squirrel.’

Everyone laughs, but slowly the tiredness is beginning to filter through us. Faith is the first to doze off, her head resting on my chest as the rest of her body curls around me, as if I am her
comfort blanket. I cradle her with Pietra pushing into her other side so she is sandwiched between us. Imrin is behind me, his breath making my ear itch.

‘I’ve got a present for you,’ he whispers.

‘What is it?’

‘We’ll call it an early Christmas present seeing as it’s snowing. You can have it later.’

‘Can I have it now?’

‘No.’

Hart and Jela stay up on lookout as the four of us drift to sleep. Imrin and Faith take the next shift and by the time he wakes me up, the snow has stopped and the beautiful white frosting has
turned to a slushy mix of mud and grass.

‘Can I have my present now?’ I ask sleepily.

‘After I’ve slept.’

‘Now – or I’ll keep you awake by constantly asking you for it while you’re trying to sleep.’

Imrin stifles a yawn. ‘I wonder if everyone around the country would be so impressed by you if they heard this?’

I hold out my hand. ‘Who cares? Present.’

Imrin reaches into his bag and takes out a square object wrapped in leaves with thin tree branches tied around it holding everything in place. ‘It can get boring on lookout,’ he
offers as an explanation.

The object is heavy and I have to use my teeth to break through the vines before the leaves fall away. Inside is a strange-looking black and grey metal box.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. It seemed electrical and I thought you’d like it.’

As I twist it around in my hands, I realise that it seems familiar. ‘Where did you get it?’

Imrin rubs his eyes. ‘I stole it.’

‘Where from?’

‘It was on Reith’s desk. When everything was happening, I spotted it and thought we might be able to use it more than him. Well, if we can figure out what it does.’

There is a grate of small holes across the top but no apparent buttons. ‘You’re very thoughtful,’ I say sarcastically, pushing it into my own bag and kissing him on the
forehead. ‘And a thief.’

He laughs. ‘Can I go to sleep now?’

‘I’ll wake you when it’s dark.’

Imrin is still smiling, even with his eyes, so I ask him what he’s so happy about. ‘Two more days and I get to meet your family,’ he says.

He’s right – but it is also two more days until he meets Opie.

Overlooking Martindale on the opposite side from the gully is a vast field that slopes upwards before levelling out and stretching far into the distance. At the start of last
summer, Opie and I decided we were going to get up early and see what was on the far side. Our legs – well, mine – were aching after barely an hour and a half, and the only things we
saw were more fields, trees and hills in the distance. No matter how far we walked, they never seemed to get any closer.

As the sun reached the top of the sky, I decided that my legs could take no more. Because we had already walked for half a day, we still had half a day’s walk to get back. We hadn’t
seen a single person the entire time; our only company had been pheasants, pigeons and squirrels. I sat on the ground complaining that I couldn’t walk any further. Opie looked down at me,
scratching the back of his neck and tilting his head to the side, grinning in the way he always does.

As Imrin, Pietra, Jela, Hart, Faith and myself settle ourselves at the top of the slope that overlooks Martindale, I remember the conversation as if it happened this morning.

‘I could just leave you here,’ Opie says, half-turning away as if heading to the village.

‘Go on then,’ I dare, knowing he won’t.

He takes two steps away but I don’t budge. ‘Are you coming?’

‘No.’

‘You can’t stay here forever.’

‘I can.’

Opie sighs. ‘What about your mum?’

‘She’ll blame you for leaving me.’

He snorts at the suggestion. ‘Don’t you want to see Colt again?’

‘He’ll blame you too. He’ll say, “Why, Opie? Why? Why would you leave my only sister out in the open?” His little face will be all upset and it will be your
fault.’