Ice Country(54)

“He wanted more available to trade.

“We still don’t know why he wants them though,” Circ says, reaching over and grabbing Siena’s hand.

“Free labor,” Buff says. “Servants, young and fresh and moldable.”

That’s the theory we’ve been working under, but even as he says it, I know it’s a weak one. Why would the most powerful man in ice country need to kidnap servants when he can buy anyone he wants? “I don’t think that’s it anymore,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to say it. I can’t think about other possibilities—not now. Not when I’m so close to finding my sister.

“Then what?” Siena says.

I don’t answer.

No one answers, because we’re all thinking the same thing: something sick, something twisted. An addiction of sorts involving little kids. My throat fills with bile.

“Don’t think about all that,” Skye says suddenly. My eyes flick to hers, relieved to hear her speak, although I’m not sure why. “What I wanna know is where my fath—where Roan got the Heater kids.”

“He just took them,” I say. I sense something behind her words, something I’m missing. “Kids go missing and life moves on,” I add, knowing full well it doesn’t.

“Yeah, he took ’em alright,” Skye agrees, “but they didn’t just go missin’. We had lots of girls go missin’, but they were always older, like Siena and me when we ran away, fifteen, sixteen years old. Never heard of any disappearin’ kids.”

“Skye’s righter’n rain,” Siena says. “The only time we ever lost kids was in accidents or early Fire, but they always died…” Her words hang in the air like a dirty piece of laundry blown off the clothesline, just before it’s swept away by the wind.

“How old did you say the kids looked?” Feve asks.

I shrug. “I dunno. Seven, maybe eight.”

Skye curses. What am I missing?

“Oh, sun goddess,” Siena says, her voice a whisper so soft I wouldn’t know she said it if I didn’t see her lips move.

“That sonofablazeshooter,” Skye says, and my eyes dance back to her.

“What?” I say.

Skye looks at Siena. Siena looks at Skye. Siena releases Circ’s hand and reaches out toward Skye, as if just by stretching she might be able to touch her. “Skye?” Siena says.

“Their younger sister,” Circ says. “She died when she was seven. Her name was Jade.”

My breath catches in my throat.





Chapter Twenny-One





“Did you see her body?” I ask, saying the wrong thing as usual.

Skye stands up, grabs the bars, tries to shake them, but they don’t so much as quiver. “The baggard. The filthy baggard,” she mutters while she yanks at the metal.

“She was taken by a brushfire,” Siena says slowly. “Father said the flames were so hot that all t’was left was ash.”

“He cried for her, the no-good tug-lovin’ baggard,” Skye spouts, pacing across her cell.

“They were real tears,” Siena says.

“No,” Skye says. “No, no, no! There was nothin’ real ’bout them.” She starts pounding her fist into her hand.

“He didn’t wanna give her up,” Siena says. “He couldn’t. He was forced to. They were real tears.”

Skye just shakes her head, continues pacing. “You can think what you want, but if he was ’ere I’d kill him agin.”

“Your sister might be alive,” I say.

Skye stops short, stops pounding her fist, stops spouting “the baggard.”

“She’s not alive,” Skye says.

“She might be,” I insist. “How long ago was the fire that supposedly killed her?”

Skye shakes her head. Siena answers. “Six years,” she says.

“It’s a long time,” Feve says. “Don’t get their hopes up.” But by the look in Siena’s eyes, I can tell her hopes are already up. Way up.

“There’s always hope,” I say, but it’s for me as much as them.

“Skye?” Siena says. She needs her sister now. My words are just words, but her sister’s, they’re feelings. Beliefs that can become real if she will only speak them.

Everyone looks at Skye.

She’s sort of grimacing, chewing on something that’s not there, like she’s trying to digest the possibility of what a few minutes earlier was impossible.

“I dunno,” she says. “I just dunno. But what I do know is that we can’t change what’s happened, but we can stop it from happening agin, save those it’s happened to. Your sister. Maybe ours if she’s there too. Jade.” I grab each of Skye’s words, bundle them in my arms, tuck them away somewhere to look at later, when I’m ready to hope again. I can see Siena doing the same, a big smile on her face.