He sees the questions in my eyes. “I know you had to sort us into two groups. I know I was probably right in the middle.”
“Do you want to know what I did?”
“I can guess,” he says. “They told you about the life expectancy and the poisons, didn’t they? That’s why you put me where you did.”
“Yes,” I say. “You know about the poisons, too?”
“Of course. Most of us figure it out. But none of us are in a position to complain. Our lives are stil much longer here than they’d be in the Outer Provinces.”
“Ky.” It’s hard to ask, but I have to know. “Are you leaving?”
He looks up. Above us, fierce and golden, the sun climbs the sky. “I’m not sure. They haven’t told us yet. But I know we don’t have much time.” When we reach the top of the Hil it feels completely different in some ways and not in others. He is stil Ky. I am stil Cassia. But we stand together in a place where neither of us has been before.
It’s the same world, gray and blue and green and gold, that I’ve seen al my life. The same world I saw from Grandfather’s window and from the top of the little hil . But I am higher now. If I had wings, I could spread them. I could soar.
“I want you to have this,” Ky says, handing me the artifact.
“I don’t know how to use it,” I say, not wanting to reveal how much I want to accept his gift. How deeply I ache to hold and have something that is part of his story and part of him.
“I think Xander can teach you,” he says gently, and I draw in my breath. Is he tel ing me good-bye? Is he tel ing me to trust in Xander? To be with Xander?
Before I can ask, Ky pul s me close and his words are in my ear, warm and whispered. “It wil help you find me,” he says. “If I ever do go anywhere.”
My face fits perfectly into the spot against his shoulder, near his neck, where I can both hear his heart and smel his skin. I’m safe here, too. Some essential part of me is safer with Ky than anywhere else.
Ky presses another piece of paper into my hand. “The last part of my story,” he says. “Wil you save it? Don’t look at it yet.”
“Why?”
“Just wait,” he says, voice quiet, strong. “Wait a little while.”
“I have something for you, too,” I say, pul ing away just a little, reaching into my pocket. I give him the scrap of fabric, the green silk from my dress.
He holds it up to my face to see how I looked that night at the Match Banquet. “Beautiful,” he says, gently.
He puts his arms around me on the top of the Hil . From where we stand I see clouds and trees and the dome of City Hal and the tiny houses of the Boroughs in the distance. For one brief moment, I see it al , this world of mine, and then I look back at Ky.
Ky says, “Cassia,” and closes his eyes, and I close mine too so that I can meet him in the dark. I feel his arms around me and the smoothness of the green silk as he presses his hand against the smal of my back and pul s me closer, closer. “Cassia,” he says once more, softly, so close his lips meet mine, at last. At last.
I think he might have meant to say something more, but when our lips touch, there is no need, for once, for any words at al .
CHAPTER 29
There is screaming in the Borough again and this time it is human.
I open my eyes. It is so early in the morning that the sky is more black than blue, the slice of dawn at the edge of the horizon more promise than reality.
My door slams open and in the rectangle of light I see my mother. “Cassia,” she says in relief, and she turns back to cal to my father, “She’s fine!”
“Bram, too,” he cal s back, and then we are al in the hal , going toward the front door, because someone on our street is screaming and the sound of it is so uncommon it cuts deep. We may not hear the sound of pain often in Mapletree Borough, but the instinct to try to help has not yet been Matched out of us.
My father throws open the door and we al look out.
The streetlights seem dimmer; the Officials’ coats dul and gray. They walk fast, a figure between them. Behind them, a few more people.
Officers.
And someone else, screaming. Even in the muted glow of the streetlights, I recognize her. Aida Markham. Someone who has borne pain before and who bears it again now as she chases the figure surrounded by Officials and Officers.
Ky.
“Ky!”
For the first time in my life, I run as fast as I can in public. No tracker to slow me, no branches to stop me. My feet fly over grass, over cement. I cut across the lawns of my neighbors and through their flowers, trying to catch up to the lead group moving toward the air-train stop. An Officer detaches from them and hurries toward Aida. She’s drawing too much attention; other houses have open doors and people standing on the steps watching.
I run faster; my feet hit the sharp, cool grass of Em’s lawn. A few houses more.
“Cassia?” Em cal s from her doorway. “Where are you going?”
Ky hasn’t heard me over Aida’s screams. They’re almost to the steps that go up to the air-train platform. When they walk under the light at the bottom, I see they’ve locked Ky’s hands together.
Just like they did in the picture.
“Ky!” I scream again, and his head snaps up. He turns his face toward me, but I am not close enough to see his eyes. I have to see his eyes.
Another Officer breaks away from the group and heads in my direction. I should have waited until I was closer before I cal ed out, but I am stil fast.
I’m almost there.
Part of my mind tries to process what is happening. Are they taking him away for his new work position? If so, why so early in the morning? Why is Aida so upset? Wouldn’t she be happy to know he has a new chance, something better than washing foilware? Why is he wearing handlocks?
Did he try to fight them?
Did they see the kiss? Is that why this is happening?
I see the air train sliding along the tracks toward the station, but it’s not the air train we usual y ride, the silvery-white one. It’s the charcoal-gray long-distance train, the kind that only departs from the City Center. I can hear it coming, too; it’s heavier, louder, than the white one.
Something isn’t right.
And if I didn’t know that already, the word Ky cal s to me as they push him up the steps confirms everything. Because there in front of everyone, al his survival instincts leave him and a different instinct takes over.