Starglass (31 page)

I was never really
with
Silvan, never really fully myself.

So how could I blame him for his honey-sweet kisses, the way he spoke to me—syrupy, empty words? I was a creature of artifice, like the jewel-toned sundew plants that caught insects in the dome. When he tangled his big hand through my hair, cupped the crown of my head in his palm, and said to me, “My parents want you to come to supper tomorrow night. Captain Wolff will be there,” I gave a gentle smile and said, “Of course. I’d love to do that.”

Even as a white spark of fear traveled down my spine.

•  •  •

Supper turned my stomach. We ate lamb and potatoes and shallots all cooked in a red, tangy sauce. I wasn’t used to so much butter or fat, but I think it was the memory of my family’s own meager meals that did it. After Momma died, we no longer had her half-stale bread from the bakery to supplement our rations. Meat—always lean and tough with sinews—was a rare pleasure. But at Silvan’s house each serving was the size of what my entire family might share on a harvest day. Luckily, no one noticed how green I’d gone as I cut into my chops. They guzzled wine, sweeter than the vintages my father had once drunk. Silvan’s father drank especially deep. That was something our families had in common.

“He cares about his wine more than me,” Silvan had once told me with a sulk. And now I saw that it was true, as the doctor who’d killed my mother uncorked one bottle after another, careful, even in his drunkenness, not to spill a single drop. They were all jolly as they drank, flashing smiles, cracking jokes. But sitting at the table across from Silvan’s father and Captain Wolff, all I could think was,
You killed Momma. If it hadn’t been for you, she’d still be here—and Mar Jacobi and Abba, too.
I kept playing with my food, stirring it around on the plate.

“Well, Terra?”

I dropped my fork against the china with a clatter. Across the table Silvan’s mother’s mouth twisted, though I couldn’t quite be sure if it was with amusement or disapproval.

“W-what’s that?” I stuttered. Captain Wolff’s off-kilter smile was stiff. She took a long draw of wine, swallowed, then asked again.

“Do you enjoy your work with our botanist?”

“Sure,” I said. “She’s great.”

Doctor Rafferty gave a coarse laugh. Captain Wolff glowered at him.

“The woman is her teacher, Mazdin. It’s natural that she feels some fondness for her. No matter how troublesome she’s been for
us
.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Anger flashed up in me. I stuffed it down. Nobody noticed. The doctor just looked down at his glass, swirling the wine at the bottom.

“Stone’s always done her job well. I’ll give you that. It’s not her
work
that’s ever been an issue.”

“Yes, yes,” Silvan’s mother said. “Stone is a true Asherati. She’s always been a dedicated worker. But she’s a wild card, still. Terra, you will tell us if she ever seems ready to stir up trouble, won’t you?”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. The words sounded harder than I’d intended. But Uvri Rafferty’s smile was serene. Unperturbed.

“I’m not really sure
what
I mean,” she said. She forced a cascade of laughter. And then she turned to her husband and inquired about the last clutch of newborns.

I slumped low in my seat.

•  •  •

The adults were content to make small talk long after the dessert plates had been cleared. I was crawling out of my skin, of course. But Silvan didn’t notice. He sat with his elbows propped against the polished galley table, watching the captain, waiting for his moment to jump in.

“I see you, Silvan,” the captain said, pouring herself more wine. All the adults laughed, but the corner of Silvan’s mouth ticked up in annoyance. Still, Captain Wolff waited.

“Go ahead,” she finally said.

“Well, if you insist,” he began. Though his tone was smooth, his complexion had darkened. He was blushing. I’d seen him nearly naked, but I’d never seen him blush before. “I know that you and Abba have been eager for me to come up with some ideas for the colony.”

“And finally pull your weight,” Doctor Rafferty grunted. I had no idea what kind of training Silvan had done with the captain. It couldn’t have had the intensity of my training with Mara—he spent too much time wandering around the dome for that.

“I
want
to pull my weight, Abba. That’s the point!” He paused just long enough to suck down a mouthful of wine. “I was thinking about how we go about selecting the guard. I know the Council picks guards only from the high-ranking families, but—”

“This ensures that we can trust them. I know my daughter won’t betray me—nor will the children of the other Council members,”
Wolff cut in. I felt a shiver at her words. The Children of Abel kept their secrets well.

“Y-yes, well,” Silvan stammered, “that’s fine. But once we reach the surface, we’ll need more guards, won’t we? To protect our colony?”

I gaped at Silvan. Didn’t he know of the Council’s plans to keep us captive in the dome? How much protection could we possibly need if we were still trapped inside the
Asherah
?

“I thought we could institute a general draft,” he went on. “Raise an army. And I could lead it.”

Silvan’s father snorted on his wine. His mother giggled too. Even Captain Wolff’s eyes held laughter.

“You
do
aim high,
talmid
,” she said. “However, there’s a problem with your little plan. A general draft would mean inviting the general populace into the guard.”

Silvan slammed his glass down. “So? What’s wrong with commoners? If they trained under me, you can bet they’d know better than to commit treason. They’d be loyal!”

Doctor Rafferty was the one who answered. He spoke to Silvan as if he were much younger than sixteen. “Son, it’s not a matter of loyalty. The common Asherati is too temperamental to be trusted with
weapons
.”

The anger that had been simmering inside me flamed brightly. I gripped the stem of my wineglass, resisting the urge to throw it at
Doctor Rafferty. I clutched it so tight that my knuckles went white. No one noticed.

Captain Wolff shook her head. When she spoke, it was in a patronizing tone—like she didn’t quite expect Silvan to understand. “No, don’t give him the wrong idea, Mazdin. Oh, there are dependable people among the lower classes. But we must protect them from the dangers that await us on the surface. Their safety is too precious to put in jeopardy like that. That’s why the Council rules for them, with the captain’s guard standing watch. It’s in their best interest.”

“But, Abba,” Silvan said, “if we got them early, maybe we could get them on our side. Then we wouldn’t risk losing them to the Children of Abel.”

“Silvan!” Captain Wolff snapped, a stern warning in her voice. She slid her gaze sideways, to me.

“What?” Silvan said. “We’re getting
married
. She’ll have to find out eventually.” He turned to me. When he spoke, his tone was a perfect echo of Captain Wolff’s. Paternalistic. Condescending. “The Children of Abel are this stupid group of commoners. They think they can bring down the Council.”

“Oh,” I said, doing my best to sound bored. “I see.”

“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re so down on my idea, Abba. I’m going to be captain, after all. You’ll have to get used to the idea of listening to me someday!”

“Enough, Silvan.” I heard the danger that lurked beneath Mazdin’s words. It was the same sort of warning my father would issue—the same sort of warning that I always mistook for a challenge. Apparently, Silvan did too.

“But, Abba—”

“I said
enough
!” And with that roar Mazdin Rafferty pounded his fist against the table.

The dishes rattled like bells. Silvan’s mother reached out and gripped her glass, silencing it. But Silvan sprang to his feet.

“Come on, Terra,” he said. I watched in confusion as he went to the door, wrestling our coats from the hooks. The adults sat in mortified silence. I couldn’t bring myself to look any of them in the eye.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” I said stiffly. Neither of Silvan’s parents even dared to look at me. But Captain Wolff gazed up.

“You’re welcome, Terra,” she returned, the scar tissue on the bridge of her nose crinkling. I was surprised by her tone—kind, sympathetic. But there was no time to contemplate that. I scrambled to my feet and followed Silvan out the door.

He thrust my coat at me, then hustled down the road. He held his own wool jacket in his fist, letting the sleeves drag over the cobblestones. He didn’t need it. The heat of his body seemed to broil the air straight through his sweater.

“I can’t believe them. Treating me like that. When Wolff kicks the bucket, they’ll see.”

I buttoned my coat. “But, Silvan,” I said, picking each word very deliberately, “your parents are Council members. The captain is subject to the Council’s whims. You’ll always have to listen to them, won’t you?”

He stalked ahead.

“Hey!” I called. I ran down the cobblestone street. When I reached him, I matched his strides, slipping my arm into the crook of his. But I could tell that he was closed to me. His strong body was hard, tense against mine.

“Hey,” I said, pulling him to face me. For a moment Silvan refused to look me in the eye. So I touched my hand to his chin. His skin was dark against my hands, almost the color of mud.

And then his gaze softened. I saw, for a passing second, the proud little boy inside him. He was just a kid, really, a kid who had gotten his way about a lot of things, but nothing that counted.

He isn’t so different from me at all, is he?
I thought, though my stomach clenched with guilt at the notion. The sympathy I felt for Silvan—this small, confusing affection—was wrong, all wrong. I needed to be hard to him. I needed to
hurt
him.

I needed to look away. But before I could, he caught my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me deeply. Soon I was leaning
into it, our bodies drawn so close together that there wasn’t any space between them at all.

It was a voice that drew me out of the kiss. A familiar voice. Rachel’s voice.

“Terra?”

Even in the tight crush of Silvan’s arms, shock rang through me. Rachel stood in the golden circle cast down from a streetlamp. Koen stood beside her. His posture was slumped, uncomfortable. Like he was trying to make himself small. Though Rachel was almost a full head shorter than he was, she took up so much more space.

“Rachel!” I called, and without a second thought I broke away from Silvan’s arms. But she hustled off in the other direction.

“Rachel, wait!” I reached out for her, touching her hand. But she tore it away. I matched her pace, but she refused to look at me.

“Terra Fineberg,” she muttered in a low tone, “you are the
worst
. You’re a lying, boy-stealing—”

“I’m not
stealing
him!” I said. I wanted to let it all spill out—the Children of Abel, their plot. But when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that Silvan and Koen were trailing behind us. And both were still within earshot.

“What do you call what you’re doing with him, then? I heard rumors about the two of you. You know how people talk. But I
defended
you. I told them that my friend would
never
do such a thing.
Oy, I can’t believe I helped you. Giving you a haircut. Telling you you’re pretty. Well, you know what?
Koen
has just asked me to marry him. Our wedding’s in two weeks. The day we arrive in orbit around Zehava. So how’s it feel?”

I felt a lump rise in my throat. Rachel was still marching forward, taking wide, wild strides. I grabbed her by the arm, turning her to face me.

“Rachel!” I said. “Don’t you know? Don’t you know why I didn’t want to marry him?” I could see it then—the flash of Koen’s hands against Van’s waist. Skin meeting skin. My gut clenched at the thought.

“Why?” Rachel’s question cut me open.

“He’ll never love you,” I said. “He’s a
faygeleh
.” I’d wanted to defend myself, to show her that
I
had been the one to turn down Koen. But it was selfish, telling her the truth. I regretted my words instantly.

The pronouncement hung heavy on the air. Rachel turned, looking at Koen. I followed her gaze. Silvan did too. The young Council member slapped both hands against his thighs. He seemed to find this the funniest notion in the world.

“You?” He let out rough, humorless laughter. “You schtup men? Just wait’ll the Council hears about this!”

“No, no, I don’t mean it!” I said, and clamped my hand over my mouth. But it was too late. The words were out, and no one heard
me take them back anyway. Rachel was staring at Koen, tears welling.

“Is this true?” she asked.

Koen gave his head a frantic shake. “No,” he said. “It’s not true! It’s not!”

He rushed over to where we stood. I could feel the panic rising off him, like a trapped rabbit about to be felled. His hands shook as he grabbed Rachel roughly by the wrists and pulled her to him. He smashed his mouth to hers, a kiss that seemed to be all spit and tongue.

I wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. I glanced to Silvan, curious as to whether he was buying this outburst. He just rolled his eyes as the pair parted, a silver thread of saliva trailing between them.

Rachel turned to me, glaring. Koen still held her hands in his.

“I can’t believe you, Terra,” she said. “I just can’t believe you. Why would you make up such lies? You’re such a sad, miserable person. Always looking down your nose at everyone else like you’re better than them.”

“No, Rachel . . .,” I protested. But then I felt another wave of terrible, toe-curling guilt. Because I’d let out Koen’s secret. Because I’d been kissing Silvan just minutes before, and it hadn’t had a damned thing to do with the rebellion, or the Children of Abel, or setting things right. I’d done it just because I’d wanted to be kissed.

When my words faded, Rachel let out an exasperated sound. “You wanna know why Koen didn’t want to marry you?”