Morningside Fall(6)

And then, worst of all, the pictures began appearing. Just one or two, at first. Then each day brought a few more. Now there were dozens and dozens of pictures of people who had disappeared. The taken. And with every one hung a silent, permanent plea for Wren to find them and bring them back.

Cass just pulled him to her then and held him tightly. In that moment she wasn’t sure if she was giving comfort or taking it, but Wren didn’t try to resist. She knew it was hard on him, of course. To be ruling a city at such a young age. Cass had tried to insulate him as much as possible. But their choices had been so few; after what had happened they could never have stayed within Morningside as normal citizens. And at the time the idea of leaving again, of having nowhere to go and to be always on the run, had been too much for either of them to bear. In the end it had seemed the only real choice, to stay and let her child be revered as governor. Maybe worshiped. Now, feeling his tiny frame in her arms, she wondered that she could have ever been such a fool.

Cass had hoped, and maybe even let herself believe, that with her as his primary advisor and with the help of the Council members, that the burden wouldn’t be too much for Wren to bear. Of course it was too much to bear. Of course it was too much to ask. And the pressures of governing were only made worse by the guilt he must have felt, knowing all those people were counting on him, believing he could rescue their missing and deliver them safely back home.

It hardly seemed fair, after all they had been through: the flight from RushRuin, the cold nights of hunger, the utter terror of the Weir, the heavy losses. To have come so far, to have escaped all of that, only to find themselves surrounded by everything they could ever need or want – and discover it was just a different kind of prison. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them quickly away.

“Tell you what,” Cass said. “What if you didn’t come to Council today?”

“I have to. I’m the governor.”

Cass rocked back so she could look at her son. “You’re the governor. You don’t have to.”

He smiled a little at that. Wren said, “But I should go.”

“I’ll tell them you needed some time off. After last night, no one would blame you.”

“Uncle Aron might.”

“Uncle Aron is a grouchy old man. If you came, he’d probably fuss at you for being there.” She felt his slight shoulders relax under her hands and knew that skipping the meeting was the right thing. Yet another thing that had been weighing on him. He was just too concerned with what he felt was his duty to have said anything about it. “I’m pulling rank. As your mother, I demand that you not come. So that’s that.”

“I don’t think it’s like that anymore, Mama.”

Cass was surprised by how much those words cut her. Not because Wren had intended any hurt; he’d just said it as if it were fact. Perhaps she feared it was.

“It is today,” she said, standing back up as she did.

“Well,” Wren said. “If you think it’ll be OK.”

“I’ll take the heat if there is any. But I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“OK, then. Is it alright if I stay here? Just for a little while longer?”

Cass was still weighing the options when someone called through the gate.

“Mister Governor!”

They both looked over to see a couple of teenagers peering through the bars.

“Hey, Painter!” Wren called back. He looked up at Cass, and she nodded, and together they walked over to the gate. The daylight made it hard for her to identify the two from a distance, but as they approached, Cass recognized the other teen as a kid everyone just called Luck. He was the more stylish of the two, always quick with a smile – and had a seriously dry wit. Luck was sporting a pair of dark glasses.

Painter was tall and thin, with arms and legs just a little too long to look like they belonged to him. His hair was a wavy brown nest too loose to call curly but with an obvious mind of its own. He tended to be self-conscious – either because of, or compounded by, the heavy stutter he suffered from. Painter looked in every way like a typical nineteen year-old kid. Except in the eyes; though they were currently hidden beneath dark goggles, Cass knew that where others had iris and pupil, Painter had only softly radiating blue. Both he and Luck had become good friends to Wren. And both had been Awakened.

“Luck, Painter,” she said, greeting them both. “What brings you gentlemen around?”

“Actually we were on our way back home, Miss Cass,” Luck said. “They wouldn’t let us in the front gate.”

“The Council’s meeting,” Cass answered. Normally security wouldn’t lock the compound down just for the Council, but what she’d said was true and she hoped it wouldn’t invite any further questions.