“She’s been on Ethar—hidden with us since she arrived here.”
“When was that?”
“When your mother died.”
I try to process what Giffen is saying. “If she’s younger than me, she couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. She couldn’t have gotten here by herself.”
“Her father brought her.”
I feel sick and hopeful at the same time, and the fact that I feel hopeful makes me feel sicker. “Her father brought her? You mean our father brought her?”
He nods, looking uncomfortable. “Pan brought her here when she was almost four floans old.”
“Water,” I manage to say, begging Giffen with my eyes.
It’s Raspin who brings it to me; bending down, he tips a canteen to my lips. He’s surprisingly gentle for such a strong, raging knob knocker. When I’ve had enough, I move my lips away. He manages not to spill any of it on me. I can’t yet ask them the only question I want to ask them. I’m too afraid of the answer. Instead I ask, “When you said ‘they’ve been with us,’ where was that? Is there a Valley of Misfit Boys or something?”
A grudging smile appears on Giffen’s lips. “Pan made a home for us in the Amster Rushes—in the annexed area. Then he set about finding all of us—all the Alameeda males with special talents who were being hunted down and slaughtered—bringing us there. He saved most of our lives.”
“He must be a saint,” I reply with sarcasm.
“He is,” Raspin replies, believing every word of it.
I snort in disgust. “Did he happen to notice when he got to Amster that he was one daughter short?” The bitterness in my voice is extremely apparent.
“He rarely speaks of you, but when he does, it’s always with the greatest respect and admiration for your sacrifices.”
I laugh humorlessly. “My sacrifices? Oh, that’s—” I shake my head and exhale a harsh breath. “Do you know why he abandoned me on Earth?”
“You’re the prophecy. You’re the one who sparks the war. He couldn’t bring you back. He had to leave you there. It was your destiny.”
I nod my head as if I’m okay with it. “Oh . . . it was my destiny! So it’s all part of the plan?”
Giffen exhales in relief. “Yes.”
Rage boils over as I yell at him, “Screw your plan! And screw him!”
“Not! Working!” Raspin yells at Giffen. He storms to the doors, ripping them off their tracks as he leaves the room.
“Now you’ve made him mad,” Giffen sighs in frustration.
“Just let me see if I understand you. You want me to allow you to hand me over to the Alameeda in exchange for my sister, but you don’t want me to retaliate against you by using my ability to see the future to harm you in any way.”
“Yes, and—”
“Wait! There’s an and? Why is there an and?”
“We need you to be our eyes on the inside. We want to communicate with you and—”
“You want me to spy for you.”
“Yes.”
“You guys have some big, fat, huge, bouncy—”
Raspin enters the room dragging Trey’s unconscious body behind him. I don’t know what they did to him, but he looks dead. With a hand around Trey’s throat, Raspin lifts him up, ready to gut Trey with his knife if I blink at him the wrong way. “Ya shefty wee monster! I’ll carve him to prove to ya that I am heartfelt,” he seethes. He’s being honest.
“Wait! Please!”
Raspin’s hand stills just above Trey’s chest.
“Okay, I’ll do it! Just stop!”
“Ya swear upon it?” Raspin asks angrily.
“I swear on it,” I reply in desperation, trying to reassure him. “Astrid gets saved and I get thrown away again. It’s fine. We have a deal. Just don’t hurt him, okay?”
Raspin looks like he doesn’t believe me. “Should something happen to Astrid, it happens to him. I gut ’em all if she’s harmed.” He raises his knife, placing it to Trey’s neck, drawing blood as he begins to cut.
“Nothing will happen to her!” I try to placate him in a stream of words. “I’ll make sure of it!” He stops cutting. It’s an eternity that I wait—those seconds I watch Raspin take as he decides whether or not I’m telling the truth. A part of me isn’t sure if he’ll believe me. Even when Raspin lowers the knife in his fist, I have trouble breathing.