the ocean clinging to our frozen skin.
I laugh, and Gabriel looks at me like Iâm crazy, and weâre both out of breath, but Iâm able to say, âWe made it,â over the sound of distant sirens. Seagulls circle over us impassively. The sun is melting down into the horizon, setting it ablaze. I look back once, long enough to see men pulling our escape boat to shore. Theyâll be expecting passengers, but all theyâll find are the empty wrappers from the packaged sweets we ate from the boat ownerâs stash. We abandoned ship before we reached the shore, and we felt for each other in the water and held our breath and hurried away from the commotion.
Our footprints emerge from the ocean, like ghosts are roaming the beach. I like that. We are the ghosts of sunken countries. We were once explorers when the world was full, in a past life, and now weâre back from the dead.
We come to a mound of rocks that forms a natural barrier between the beach and the city, and we collapse in its shadows. From where weâre huddled we can hear men shouting commands to one another.
âThere must have been a sensor that tripped the alarm when we got close to shore,â I say. I should have known that stealing the boat had been too easy. Iâve set enough traps in my own home to know that people like to protect whatâs theirs.
âWhat happens if they catch us?â Gabriel says.
âThey donât care about us,â I say. âSomeone paid a lot of money to make sure that boat is returned to them, I bet.â
My parents used to tell me stories about people who wore uniforms and kept order in the world. I barely believed those stories. How can a few uniforms possibly keep a whole world in order? Now there are only the private detectives who are employed by the wealthy to locate stolen property, and security guards who keep the wives trapped at luxurious parties. And the Gatherers, of course, who patrol the streets for girls to sell.
I collapse against the sand, faceup. Gabriel takes my shivering hand in both of his. âYouâre bleeding,â he says.
âLook.â I cast my head skyward. âYou can already see the stars coming through.â
He looks; the setting sun lights up his face, making his eyes brighter than Iâve ever seen, but he still looks worried. Growing up in the mansion has left him permanently burdened. âItâs okay,â I tell him, and pull him down beside me. âJust lie with me and look at the sky for a while.â
âYouâre bleeding,â he insists. His bottom lip is trembling.
âIâll live.â
He holds up my hand, enclosed in both of his. Blood is dripping down our wrists in bizarre little river lines. I must have sliced my palm on a rock as we crawled to shore. I roll up my sleeve so that the blood doesnât ruin the white cabled sweater that Deirdre knitted for me. The yarn is inlaid with diamonds and pearlsâthe very last of my housewife riches.
Well, those and my wedding ring.
A breeze rolls up from the water, and I realize at once how numb the cold air and wet clothes have made me. We should find someplace to stay, but where? I sit up and take in our surroundings. Thereâs sand and rocks for several more yards, but beyond that I can see the shadows of buildings. A lone freight truck lumbers down a faraway road, and I think soon itâll be dark enough for Gatherer vans to start patrolling the area with their lights off. This would be the perfect place for them to hunt; there donât appear to be any streetlights, and the alleyways between those buildings could be full of scarlet district girls.
Gabriel, of course, is more concerned about the blood. Heâs trying to wrap my palm with a piece of seaweed, and the salt is burning the wound. I just need a minute to take this all in, and then Iâll worry about the cut. This time yesterday I was a House Governorâs bride. I had sister wives. At the end of my life, my body would have ended up with the wives whoâd died before me, on a rolling cart in my father-in-lawâs basement, for him to do only he knows what.
But now thereâs the smell of salt, sound of the ocean. Thereâs a hermit crab making its way up a sand dune. And something else, too. My brother, Rowan, is somewhere out here. And thereâs nothing stopping me from getting home to him.
I thought the freedom would excite me, and it does, but thereâs terror, too. A steady march of what-ifs making their way through all of my deliciously attainable hopes.
What if heâs not there?
What if something goes wrong?
What if Vaughn finds you?
What if â¦
âWhat are those lights?â Gabriel asks. I look where heâs pointing and see it too, a giant wheel of lights spinning lazily in the distance.
âIâve never seen anything like it,â I say.
âWell, someone must be over there. Come on.â
He pulls me to my feet and tugs my bleeding hand, but I stop him. âWe canât just go wandering off into lights. You donât know whatâs over there.â