Page 102 of Cage of Starlight
Tory jolts upright on his log. “Yousawhim?”
Of course. As ranking officer, Sena made sure he was the one who questioned him. “He knew you were acting illegally and still protected you.”
Tory curses. “Idiot! I told him to—”
“He’s fine. My report asserted he knew nothing. I had to capture you,” Sena says. “No one else needed to get involved.”
“I . . . thank you.” Tory hums something, staring into the fire, before turning back to Sena. “Hey, what do you think you’ll do next?”
Responding withdieseems a little macabre. “What do you mean?”
“After all this. What’ll you do when all this is said and done, and you’re free?”
“If,” Sena corrects him, gently.
“When,” Tory repeats. “Humor me.”
Irritation ripples through Sena, then sorrow. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Tory, please.”
“I just want to know. It’s a simple question.”
It isn’t. Sena’s never met anything with a sharper double edge than hope. Making that tree grow with Iri—seeing the fruit he made that dead branch bear—
This feeling is a thousand times too large for him. Sena has mere days to live and hands he wants to bare before Tory. He wants to touch Tory, skin to skin. Reckless Tory, bright Tory. Tory who tried to heal Sena even when he knew he couldn’t. It’s such a terrible, unfamiliar feeling, one he never dared to embrace before. It’s so much harder not towantnow that he knows his hands are capable of making things grow. He’s full of so much hope it could choke him, growing in his chest like nuisance vines. There’s far more than five short days of it banging to get out.
“Sena,” Tory echoes. “Please.”
Sena laughs, and it cuts at his throat, raw from coughing. His ribs stab at him with pain that lights up his whole side. “Fine.” He stares into the fire. Tory stares at him. “IfI’m still alive five days from now, and . . .” Free. He can’t say it. “I don’t know. A quiet place, with trees. A friend for Kierney.” Short sentences because he’s short of breath.
These are easy things to hope for, because they are easier to let go of.
He can’t bear to tell Tory how much he’d like to see his mother and sister and catch up on a decade of conversation he avoided because he was afraid they might look at him and see the weapon he saw in himself. He can’t tell Toryyou’re foolish and reckless and impossibly warm, and you make me want to hope for things again.
Tory laughs. “Come on, that’s boring! Think big. Like—you and I, we’ll break down those ugly walls your dad loves so much. We’ll empty the labor camps and remake this place into a country worth living in.” His hands clench in front of him, firelight catching on thin, slick lines. Scars.
“What happened?” Sena says. “To your hands?”
“We’re telling nice stories now. It’s not a nice one.”
Sena has never minded the sad stories. “Tell me anyway.”
Tory shrugs. “I was clumsy when I was six, and there were lots of sharp parts on the assembly lines in the camps. If folks messed up too often or got too slow, the soldiers wouldmotivatethem.” He taps the backs of his hands. “Never on the palms. Didn’t want to prevent us from working.”
Bitter rage boils up in Sena, squeezing the breath from him. “Those camps should be destroyed.”
Tory grins. “Right? I’d pay to see it. You’d just touch those awful fences and turn ’em to so much rust. Like I said, we’ll burn the world down. When we’re done, I’ll drag you to Hulven, reintroduce you to Thatcher.Thenwe can find your boring house with trees.”
We. Sena could poke a million holes in that ridiculous dream. Instead, he says, “It’d take a lot of time.”
It’s cruel, that Tory is the past and Sena is the future but neither of them can make five short days last longer.
Tory whispers, “I suppose we’d need a lot of help.”
The wind picks up in the trees, low flames flickering as ice skitters through Sena’s bones. He starts shaking and can’t stop.
“You cold?” Tory’s hands skate over his shoulders, feather-light touches that make Sena shiver, but not from cold. Something must come to Tory as he sits there, considering. “Hey, wait here a second.”
Sena’s raised eyebrow does its best to communicateI wasn’t planning on moving.
