Page 45 of The Enemy's Daughter

Enola winks. “I’m not doing much other than keeping the wheels straight. But trust me, if old Caine or Wenda get spooked, you’ll want me to be able to slow us down.”

I nod and a drop of sweat runs down my temple. “Do you travel in old motor vehicles often?”

“Me? No. I prefer the back of my horse. But some of the families with little ones do, and I thought with you being weak and all you’d like this. You know, when Vador and I first met, we had a Grot Fleetway. A bit of a relic for a motor vehicle, but that engine could purr. Maybe one day we’ll find some fuel and I can show you what it’s really like to drive. Or if we found a working accumulator, I could take you for a ride in an electric one. But they all stopped holding a charge a decade ago. Too bad. They were fun because they drove by themselves.”

“It sounds like make-believe.” Mum never talks about this stuff, since she was only seven when the bombs fell and doesn’t remember much from the old world, including her parents. Father was much older when it happened but prefers not to look back. He says it’s too painful. “Do you miss it?”

She tips her head. “I don’t often let myself think about it because I do miss it. I miss the good parts. Even though there was a lot of corruption with our leaders, and division among the people. Also, there was a growing war on the other side of the world.”

So she agrees the old world had serious problems.

“But our towns weren’t blocked in with fences,” she says. “Traveling outside of them wasn’t a deadly affair—usually. It was by no means perfect. We had our problems with unlawfulness and poverty, as all places did. But we had many years of a more peaceful time. You could make a good life.” She turns to look at me. “That’s why the founding families have tried so hard to replicate the best parts as much as we can here in Kingsland.”

She makes their current way of life sound so admirable. Innocent. But does she really think I don’t know that it comes at a price? One that they skin off the backs of the five clans? The people of Kingsland might be less barbarian than I expected in that they haven’t physically tortured me, and they have at least a few women who aren’t enslaved, but they only knowsafetybecause they’ve taken ours away. They’ve destabilized the clans on every level, so they can havethe best partsthat Enola talks about and not have to share.

I turn back to watch the road, and more houses come into view. Pieces of the old world. These homes are smaller and similar in size to what we have in Hanook, only the building materials continue to be colored and unique, not made of stripped logs. Horses graze on the small fenced-off fields in front.

After another turn, we near a barn-like building. Judging by the number of horses and vehicles stationed outside, this must be our destination.

Is it too late to run?

Vador swings off his mount and offers his hand to Enola as she exits the motor vehicle. It takes me significantly longer to find the latch to do the same. From the second my feet touch the ground, I feel people’s eyes on me. Their outrage carries to me like the putrid spray of a threatened skunk and only multiplies as we walk into thecrowded entryway of the building. Enola offers me a pleasant smile as I grip her forearm tightly. Every fiber of my being tells me to flee.

The crowd parts as we walk straight ahead through the double doors, varying levels of surprise and concern on their faces. It’s fair to say I won’t be blending in, and my breathing escalates as if my body is preparing to fight. It’s self-preservation.

The hall is deceptively large inside but filled to the brim. People crowd together on benches and stand shoulder to shoulder around the perimeter. There’s no room for us—good. Maybe we can leave.

“Valerie,” Enola says to the gray-and-blond-haired lady glaring in my direction. She’s one of many glaring, actually. “It’s so nice—”

“Get out of here,” Valerie snarls at me. She jerks forward and spits on me. Wetness sprays my face and bare arms. “You’re not wanted here!”

My limbs fill with lead. I can only blink as my heart thrashes like a caged animal.

“Go on! Get!” Her voice echoes through the hall, causing the low murmur of the crowd to die a slow and painful death. Heads turn in our direction to see what the commotion is.

My eyes sting. Heat scorches my cheeks. Her spit is acid on my skin, prickling and burning.

Valerie shifts her venomous glare to Enola. “Why would you bring that filth in here? How dare you!”

Enola’s face is painted in shock, but she unfreezes before I can. Her soft hand takes mine. “Isadora, may I introduce you to Valerie Pallantine. Six months ago, her son died defending our border fence. As you can see, she’s still grieving.”

My heart plummets. “Oh, I’m... sor—”

“Don’t you share my business with her,” she snaps at Enola.Despite her vehemence, her eyes fill with tears. Her thin lips tremble.

“Oh, come now, Valerie.” Enola’s voice is calm. “You just spat your grief all over her. You made it her business.”

The shake in Valerie’s lips spreads to her whole body. “I will never beherbusiness. Never!” She pushes past me.

The shock of what just happened lingers, and it takes a long time after she leaves for my body to unlock. When it does, I wipe my wet forehead.

“Yes, everyone,” Enola says, raising her voice to the near-silent crowd. “This is Isadora, Tristan’swife.”

Mortified, my posture sags, and one of the sleeves of my dress slides to the edge of my shoulder.

“There is no greater love than to lay down your life for someone, which both Tristan and Isadora have done for each other. We would be having two funerals today if not for her. And it’s not anyone’s place to question their relationship, either. Isadora has risked her life to forsake her clan. She’s done more to prove herself worthy than nearly everyone in this room.”

Blood drains from my face at her lie.

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