The Offering (The Pledge 3)

“You wanna hold it?” Brook handed the crossbow to me, and I took it deftly, weighing and appraising its quality, and wishing we were out in the open so I could try it out. I lifted it so I could peer through the high-powered scope. “Maybe when we stop, I’ll teach you to shoot,” Brook told me, and my head jerked back in alarm.

I was suddenly aware that Brook had no idea what I could do with this thing. For all her portentous talk about there being no secrets in the palace, she had no idea I’d been training with Zafir all this time. All at once I couldn’t wait for a “lesson” with Brooklynn. I wanted to show her what a quick learner I could be.

I grinned back at her. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” I answered, handing the crossbow back to her and trying to look a little clumsier as I did so.

She didn’t seem to notice my sudden ineptitude as she turned her attention to Eden. “How’d you talk ’em into letting us take all this? It’s like an arsenal back here.”

Eden’s reflection shot Brook an exasperated look from the mirror that hung above her. “You think my brother was going to send us out in the VAN unarmed? He’s young. He’s not stupid,” she explained, as if Brook were both—young and stupid.

Brook shrugged. “Okay, so how is it that these kids still have all this stuff? And why hasn’t anyone noticed and come to take it from them? These are military-grade weapons. None of this stuff is easy to come by. What if Queen Elena or someone else discovers their little operation? Do you think she’ll just leave them alone because they’re a bunch of kids? They have no adult supervision. No protection.”

“They don’t need protecting—” Eden started to answer, but Brook stopped her, her eyes narrowing as if she’d just thought of something more.

“Come to think of it, how are they able to take care of themselves?” She held up her hand, interrupting Eden once more. “And don’t say hunting. I saw how many of them there are. There’s got to be more to it than catching some squirrels and fish.” Her eyes went wide, as if a thought had come to her. “They’re not . . . They wouldn’t . . .” She pursed her lips then. “If you ask me, they haven’t shut down entirely. I bet they’re still doing some manufacturing over there. Maybe not on the same scale, of course, but I bet they’re using whatever materials they have left to make weapons.” Brook straightened her shoulders as she waited for Eden to meet her eyes in the mirror. “Eden, if those kids are selling weapons and you knew about it . . .” The implication in her words was clear.

Eden didn’t respond to Brook’s allegations, whether because she had no knowledge of what Brook was accusing Caspar and the others of, or because she was protecting her brother’s secrets, I didn’t know. Eden looked away from Brook, and her stare became transfixed, as did all of ours, out the window in front of us. The VAN became silent except for the rumble of the engine, as we all watched the land flatten and lengthen, the ground leveling out until it looked like something that might never end. We could see forever from where we sat, but the scenery never seemed to change. It felt as if we were stuck in one place. As if the ground beneath us were moving but we remained in one place.

Only when the tires on Eden’s side fell into a rut, and she had to swerve to maneuver out of it, were we reminded that we were still forging ahead.

“Fine,” Brook relented, as if the VAN’s sudden lurch were Eden’s response. “No questions about the supplies. So what about Caspar, then? Can I ask about him?”

Eden’s black expression eased a little as she scowled less from the mirror, which Brooklynn took as permission to go ahead.

“What happened? I mean, to your parents? How did the two of you end up in that place?”

It wasn’t what Eden had expected, and her scowl returned, as sour as ever. “They died.”

“And you didn’t have relatives?”

“Nope.”

“No family friends who would take you in?”

The muscle in the side of Eden’s jaw jumped, the only visible sign she was even bothered. “Not both of us,” she answered. “How old were you?”

I found myself straining forward on my seat as Brook’s questions became my own. The only difference was that she was brave enough to voice them aloud.

“Twelve,” Eden replied.

Brook was relentless, undeterred by Eden’s abrupt responses. “So Caspar was . . .”

I saw Eden’s eyes flick back once in the reflection, but only once. “Was what?” she asked, being intentionally obtuse. “You know exactly what I’m asking. How old was he?” “Five.”

I flinched as if Eden had shot me with the crossbow, the arrow finding my heart. I thought of Angelina. I couldn’t help myself. At five years old she was so little, so innocent. The idea of her in a place like that, especially the way it had been when the chief had been in charge . . . I couldn’t fathom it. “Ouch,” Brook stated flatly, her thoughts likely similar to my own.

“We were fine. We had each other.” Eden sounded so convinced, so sure of herself, that I almost believed her.

Then Brook said the words that skewered that belief, deflating my confidence in Eden’s avowals. “But you left him. Why’d you do that?”

That was when my entire world started to spin. Not literally, but very nearly. The VAN tilted one way, and then the other, and even though I wasn’t sure what was happening, I knew enough to hang on for dear life. I clutched the seat back in front of me, just before my chin clipped it as I was tossed forward.