“You’re looking much better,” Doc Tuttle said with a jovial smile. “Just in time for a special day, I hear. How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” I answered.
The elders all made noises about how I was growing up, and I didn’t even want to stab them. I didn’t tell them I was grown, and had been for a year. I was distracted by something else entirely.
The pile of presents.
Most had been hastily wrapped, and they weren’t pretty like the parcels at Justine’s house. I didn’t mind at all. Nobody expected me to bleed for these, unlike the gifts that accompanied my scars on naming day. These offerings were arrayed for my pleasure—and to show affection.
“Thank you,” I said, again and again, as I opened them.
Nobody had ever given me things because they wanted to. I’d only ever traded one object for another. It mattered not at all what the packages contained; I was delighted with the contents. I received more hair ribbons, a whetstone for my daggers, a fine leather sheath that fit neatly around my thigh.
When I thanked Edmund for the scabbard, he colored and asked, “How did you know?”
“The high quality of the work,” I answered, and my foster father was so pleased, he bent down to kiss my cheek.
Once I finished opening all my gifts, I ate cake, chatted, and drank cider. It was a beautiful party … and awful too. Because Fade acted like he wasn’t there. I didn’t know which present came from him, if anything did, and I feared approaching him after the way he’d begged me to leave him alone at the outpost. I’d die if he said that in front of everyone. So I watched him from the corner of my eyes, tracking his restless movements.
Tegan sat down beside me. “Stop it.”
My gaze snapped back. “What?”
“You’re watching him to death.” Her tone made me think she had something else to say about Fade, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it.
“Sorry.” I looked everywhere else instead. “Can you come upstairs with me?”
She nodded. “For a little while. Later.”
After the cake, we moved into the sitting room with chairs carried in as needed. Lamps were lit, and candles crackled wax in their saucers, here and there. It was a merry occasion, though disaster and death lurked outside the walls. The elders talked amongst themselves, Edmund and Smith holding a lively conversation about their various crafts. Momma Oaks chatted with Doc Tuttle and his wife.
Eventually, I crept upstairs with Tegan, and nobody seemed to notice. At least, they didn’t call to ask what we were doing. The movements pulled my stitches and made the wounds burn. She helped me to the bed and sat down beside me.
“You know what happened,” I said then. “I thought if I gave him time, that would help, but it’s not getting better. Do you have any idea why—”
“When you got me away from the Wolves, the thing I liked best about you was that you didn’t treat me like a bird with a broken wing. You gave me a weapon and expected me to fight.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with Fade.”
“But deep down, I felt … dirty. Like I wasn’t as good or as strong as you.”
“What?” I gasped.
She held up a hand to stem my shocked protest. “What happened to Fade, happened against his will. He couldn’t stop it. So if I had to guess, I’d say he feels like I did. And there’s no magic to heal him. The only cure is time.”
“So what should I do?”
Tegan shrugged and shook her head. “I wish I had the answers, Deuce, but you know him better than me. Whether you should push or let him be.”
As we went back downstairs, I hoped I made the right call. Stalker limped over to join Tegan and me, his stick carved into an elegant shape and buffed to a high shine. “You had us worried. Passing out is more Tegan’s style.”
She laughed and nudged him with one elbow. “I’d like to see you do better with a hole in your thigh. Which somebody then poked with a burning knife.”
Had they become friends after his apology? I was glad they’d made peace but I hardly recognized my world anymore. Fade was a ghost. Stalker and Tegan were joking around together. I shook my head, feeling confused, tired, and sore. The initial rush of excitement died, leaving me ready to retire, but I couldn’t be rude.
Momma Oaks soon interpreted my weariness correctly. The party broke up with smiles and more congratulations. Funny. I was old enough now, officially, not to attend school with Mrs. James. She had been such a source of misery for me when I first arrived; I’d longed for this day.
Now I didn’t care at all.
I murmured my good-nights, accepting kisses on the cheek from Tegan and Stalker. With a grin, he pressed his lips to the one she didn’t. Then the guests filed out. I turned toward the stairs. It seemed like such a long way to my room.
Halfway, a warm hand settled in the small of my back, making sure I didn’t lose my balance on the stairs. I didn’t look, too afraid to hope it could be Fade, but the unmistakable tingles identified him. The quiet between us lingered all the way up, until we reached my bedroom door.
And then he spoke:
“Happy naming day, Deuce.”
A smile built inside me. But before I could offer a reply, he went on, “Forget me. Stop staring at me with those begging eyes. I can’t be what you need now.”
And then he went away, all ice and air, and left me dying in the silence.
Legacy
Doc Tuttle came later in the week to remove my stitches. His hands were steady and capable as he snipped, making small talk to lessen my embarrassment at having his hands in places I would never let anyone but Fade touch. Mindful of the proprieties, Momma Oaks stood by, reassuring me with a hand on my hair.
I’d never had so many people who cared whether my flesh mended. They both exclaimed over the scars I had on shoulder and stomach, mementoes of battles won. The ones on my arms I had earned through personal valor—and they didn’t admire them, either. The loss of status didn’t bother me as much anymore. I’d established my worth this summer.
Momma Oaks sighed. “I hate seeing how you’ve been hurt.”
“Everybody in Salvation should be this strong,” Doc Tuttle complimented me. “No malingering now.”
Once he left, I asked, “What does that mean?”
“Pretending to feel worse than you do to get out of work.”