Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) (18 page)

It is a boring and uneventful day, although I admit that the excitement of travel may have something to do with it. The monotonous routine of the Big House seems very dull in comparison, and everyone I care to see is busy spending his or her day preparing for our trip. I pass the time as best I can: a walk in the garden, a game of solitaire, a reading session in the library . . . and when the day is finally over, I trudge upstairs to my room. Throwing back the covers, I am just about to slide into bed when I see a note tucked between the blanket and sheet. I unfold the scrap of pale gray paper and read the words, "Don't go. Stay away from Axiom. - Jack."

Not him too! What is it with people telling me not to go? How did Jack get this note in here anyway? I crumple the paper and toss it across the room in anger. What right does he have to try and tell me how to live my life? I jump up and grab the paper off the floor and toss it in the fire, watching it crackle and unfold as it burns. Standing by the fireplace, I notice that the balcony door is slightly open. Closing the door, I see a handprint on the glass.

The glass is still warm when I lay my hand upon it, fitting my palm against the mark. The handprint is tiny, much too small to be Jacks. I rush out onto the balcony, hoping to catch the child who delivered his letter. The balcony is empty, but I walk along the edge, looking over the side to see how they may have climbed up. My question is answered when I reach the far right corner and see a little boy climbing down the thick vines growing on the wall. How could Jack send a child up here? I call out to him seconds before his feet hit the ground. Looking up startled, he pauses a moment before taking off toward the wooded area behind the Big House, directly between the stables and barracks.

There are shouts as he reaches the tree line, and two soldiers armed with rifles head in his direction, ordering him to stop. He ignores them, keeping a steady pace toward the trees instead. Angry, the soldiers pursue him, guns raised. As they cross the veil of trees, several shots ring out, echoing through the woods. My blood runs cold. I can't let this poor child die because of me.

Without taking the time to consider my options, I throw my leg over the rail and grab a handful of vines, swinging my body over the side. I start to make my way down, but freeze when I hear laughter. It's the soldiers returning to the barracks. Their voices carry in the night air, bringing their banter back to the Big House. Maybe they didn't shoot him after all. What kind of heartless creatures could shoot a little boy and then laugh like nothing happened? When they duck into a side door I re-start my trek down the wall.

A little too late, I realize I have misjudged the strength of the vines. I can feel them start to pull away from the stone and rush to get as close to the ground as I can before they give way. I'm still five feet up when my time runs out. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea . . . 

When I crash to the ground my ankle cracks, and I roll a few feet. Pain shoots up my leg and I bite my lip, trying not to cry out. I taste blood and see stars. I am the world's worst hero. What was I thinking?

I pull myself to my feet, testing my ankle. It holds my weight, but putting pressure on it makes me feel lightheaded. Hobbling along the best I can toward the wooded area, I glance back behind me nervously, keeping an eye out for the two soldiers.

Just inside the tree line, I see the boy lying face down on the ground. He isn't moving, and a dark red stain is growing on the back of his shirt. I turn him over and try to lift him in my arms. My ankle gives under his added weight with a nauseating pop. Okay, now it must be broken. I give a low growl of frustration as I sink to the ground, holding the little boy in my lap.

I pull his shirt off looking for the wound, and cry when I see the holes in his tiny body. The blood isn't gushing, but running slow and steady. I press my hand over the injury, but it doesn't stop the bleeding. The blood coats my fingers instead, staining them red.

I scream. I scream until my throat is raw and aching. I scream until it evolves from anguish to fury. This poor child . . . I have got to help him. I am such a fool! If I hadn't been so impulsive, I would be able to walk right now. If I had thought my actions through, I could have Maggie, or even Travis here with me.

Twice more I try to stand, and twice more I fall into the dirt in a rush of tears and pain. My body has failed me, and I have failed this little boy. I can feel his poor heart beating soft against my hand. Watching his chest slowly rise and fall, I panic, terrified that it will stop. He moans, and I pull him closer to me.

He takes a raspy, shallow breath, and his whole body starts to shake. Almost blind from fear, I wrap my arm around him and use my other arm to drag us across the ground. Rocks and sticks grind against my tender skin and my ankle aches from using my feet to push us further. Agony. That's the word that keeps running through my head. Agony. We've only traveled twenty feet, but I am already getting so tired. How pitiful . . . how could I possibly be feeling sorry for myself when next to me, this boy is dying?

His little head rests against my chest, and I can still feel the blood as it makes its way over my skin. His life is soaking my gown, and all I can think about is how I can feel every scratch and scrape as I drag myself across the ground. I am so tired . . .

Jack and I are outside the cabin, dancing under the stars. It starts to rain and we run for the house laughing.  He grabs me in the hallway, kissing down the side of my neck.

"Why can't we get married?" I ask him.

"Because they said we can't."

"Who are they?"

"The men in charge," he says distracted, kissing along my jaw.

"They don't want you to love me?"

"No they do not," he says looking at me. "They wanted me to pretend to be your brother."

"But you loved me right away," I say sweetly, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"That's right," he says grinning. "I loved you the minute you looked at me with those gorgeous brown eyes. One look, and I was hooked for good."

"We could run away . . . again I mean. We could go farther this time where they can't find us."

"We could, but who knows what would happen if they caught us. It's safer to play by their rules."

"Then I guess you should go back to being my brother," I tease.

"Not a chance sweetheart. I am going to figure this out, just wait and see. Love like ours isn't something you can just throw aside. I'm going to fight for us, but I have to be smart about it. They have more power than you can imagine."

In true Katherine tradition, I open my eyes to an unfamiliar place. Blinking them a few times, I wait as the blur of sleep, or possibly painkillers, fade from my vision. The warm hand around mine tightens in response to my waking up. I hear a huge sigh of relief, and I turn my head to look into his beautiful, blue eyes, large and round with concern. Placing his cool hand on the side of my face, he brings his lips to my forehead.

"I was so worried." Travis says. "They found you in the woods with that little boy. What happened? How did you get there? You were both so broken . . ."

"Did he live?" I croak.

"He lived," he says with a small smile. "You saved him. Grayson was leading a patrol and found you. You were both unconscious."

"I was weak. I couldn't carry him."

"You were brilliant, and brave. After Grayson brought the two of you here, he went back and followed the path you created. You dragged him so far. I am so proud of you. You saved his life."

"I screamed for help for so long, but no one could hear us. They shot him."

"Yes," he says darkly. "It seems that two of our soldiers were the ones to blame. Grayson overheard them laughing about it later that night."

"I saw them follow him into the woods, and I heard the shots. In a panic, I sort of jumped off the balcony. Well, tried to climb and fell really. That's how I hurt my ankle."

"I can't believe you did that," he says in disbelief.

"In hindsight, it wasn't the best plan."

"Well, thanks to you, he is alive, although still unconscious." Travis says. "We will have some questions for him when he wakes up though. It seems that he is not from the city."

"I thought it was impossible to get over the wall."

"That's why we have questions for him, we need to know how he managed it."

"Please be easy on him, Travis. He is just a little boy."

"It's not up to me," he says sadly. "The law is very clear on how things are done, but don't worry about that tonight. You get some sleep and I will be back to check on you in the morning."

"What about our trip?"

"Don't worry, it won't hurt to delay it until you are feeling better. Thankfully your ankle is just fractured and should heal quickly. My main concern is for your health, and I know for a fact that Laura and Grayson feel the same way.

As if on cue, Laura saunters into the room in all of her elegant glory and runs Travis off, claiming to need some girl talk.

I have always been in awe of Laura. She breathes sophistication and oozes grace. If she had a fault, it would only be her wicked sense of humor. I have barely spoken to her the entire time I have been here, but I haven't missed her delight in my difficulties in re-adjusting. She isn't malicious, and is normally a sweet girl, but she definitely has a cruel funny bone.

"I heard you jumped off your balcony," she says.

"Not exactly. I climbed most of the way."

She chuckles, settling down on the end of the bed, curling her long legs beneath her.

"So, how you have been settling in?"

"I have been here for months."

"Oh I know, but you were so boring before all this."

"Gee, thanks."

"I only speak the truth darling. Now it's your turn. I know you have seen that boy who drugged you, and don't ask me how."

"You have got to be kidding me," I groan. "Have you told anyone? I wasn't going to keep it a secret forever, I just haven't thought of the best way to bring it up."

"You are going to need a better excuse than that when you do tell them."

"So you haven't said anything?"

"Nope, and as repayment I would like to hear what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

"It's a mess in here, I assure you."

"I imagine, which is why I want to hear all about it."

"Where to start? I've already lived two lives and fallen in love with two men, yet can't remember any of it. I'm trying to fall back in love with the first man, while the second is trying to convince me not to. It's insane! Both claim I was happy, that I was in love, and each claim my life would be better with them."

"I've always adored a good love triangle." Laura laughs.

"It's not a love triangle," I say exasperated. "They may very well be in love with me, but anything I feel for them is residual. It's emotion from the past, desperately clinging to the present. It isn't real."

"It could be real. If you gave it half a chance."

"Travis is a wonderful person, but I just don't feel anything other than fondness for him."

"And the man from the market?"

"I could never fall back in love with Jack. I just couldn't."

"You loved him once."

"Yes but I didn't know who I was then!"

"You don't know who you are now," she laughs.

"I know Jack lied to me and aided in a plot that killed my family."

"They say he claims to have no knowledge of that."

"How could I ever believe him?"               

"Seems to me like you need to get your hands on a scanner."

"Are you trying to get me arrested?" I laugh. "Besides, shouldn't you be trying to talk me into loving Travis? Why are you trying to stir up trouble?"

"Being a woman in the Big House is so dull," she pouts.  "I must find my entertainment wherever I can get it, and sweetheart, your love life is quite entertaining."

Youth is on my side, and I bounce back quickly, although the embarrassment of my failed attempt at a rescue still stings. Hearing everyone talk about how brave it was, and how great I am, just makes it worse. All they see is a woman willing to sacrifice her own health to help someone else, and all I see is an impulsive child who almost got a little boy killed.

Thankfully the boy lived, but despite my quickly hushed pleas for his release, he was sent to the school. I know he will thrive. I know he will be raised with the other children in a safe place, but my heart still hurts. Somewhere out there are parents wondering where their little boy has gone. How could Jack have sent him in here?

On the day we finally get to leave, Sadie and I race down the stairs and out the door, landing in a heap on the grassy lawn of the garden. The carriage hasn't arrived so we sit together enjoying the sunshine. It's a hot morning but it isn't oppressive like it will be later in the afternoon. It still amazes me that even this late in summer, Veracity's buildings stay pleasantly cool. A marvel in their engineering, they are designed to redistribute heat and allow a steady breeze to blow through the rooms. Closing my eyes, I turn my face to the sun, letting the heat caress my face.

"You are blocking my sun," I say, as a shadow passes in front of me

"I'm just trying to help," Grayson says, "You can get freckles that way."

"Hey!" Sadie says. "I have freckles you know."

"And they look lovely on you," he says smiling. "I am just not sure our Kat here could pull them off."

"I think I prefer you in a sour mood," I say, laughing. "Help me up, if you would please."

Grayson pulls me up and reaches a hand out for Sadie. She takes it and hops to her feet, a deep scarlet blush across her cheeks. With a sly little wink in my direction, she leaves to wait with the other servants. Our own carriage pulls up soon after, and Grayson opens the door for me.

"Playing the footman today?" I ask.

"We don't have footmen in Veracity," he says, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh, that's right. I must have read about them or something."

"You had footmen in Axiom, maybe it was a memory?"

"Oh, I hope so," I say delighted. "I was wondering if this trip would trigger anything."

Grayson helps me into the carriage, holding my hand just a second too long. He plops down in the seat across from me with a smug grin on his face, looking very pleased with himself. We make the short trip to the barracks to meet with Travis so we can speak to the soldiers before we leave. Thankfully by the time we arrive, my heart has slowed back down.

Travis, Grayson, and I sit at a large oak table in one of the barrack's many conference rooms. Travis is all smiles as he holds my hand, waiting for the soldiers to arrive. We will be interviewing each of them to gain an idea of their ideal bride. If I am going to help choose a wife for a stranger, I am glad I at least get to talk to him beforehand.

The first soldier walks in and I recognize him from the safe house. I had completely forgotten that these men are going to be the ones from my trip to Veracity. The soldier, who introduces himself as Aiden, is extremely friendly and handsome, with bright eyes and a wide smile. If he remembers me from the trip, he doesn't give any indication.

"So tell me," Travis starts, "What kind of wife can we bring you?"

"A happy girl," he says. "I can hardly stand a grumpy woman."

"A smart man" Grayson laughs, as Travis writes down the request.

"It would also be nice if she were pretty," Aiden continues, "but she doesn't have to be. Oh, and maybe a brunette? If you can, I would rather have a short wife, I'm not a tall guy myself you know. I'd prefer her to have skills in cooking and music over any other."

"Sounds good," Travis says smiling, as the soldier stands up to leave. "It shouldn't be too hard to find you just what you are looking for."

The next soldier comes in as Aiden is leaving. Tall and blonde with dark blue eyes, he looks every bit the genetic wonder. He sits down with purpose, leaning forward on the table. He thinks he's hot stuff.

"Wesley," Grayson says nodding at the man. "What can we do for you?"

"Pretty, blonde, thin." he says shortly. "Surname no lower than 10 or so. Etiquette scores need to be stellar, I don't want her bumbling about."

"We can also take suggestions on personality," I say.

He looks over at me, bored.

"I don't really care much about that," he says. "As long as she has a pretty face and knows how to act in public, the rest is pretty much moot."

"I see."

The rest of the soldiers are pretty mild. One looking for a good cook with red hair if possible, another is looking for a tall brunette with freckles who can craft for extra credits, and another looking for a wife with a good sense of humor. It is more like discussing a shopping list than marriage.

Once we are done with the soldiers, we meet Laura back at the Big House. While we were interviewing the grooms to be, she was listening to entertainers sing in the theater.

"How were they?" Travis asks.

"Better than last year," she says. "The talent has been scarce since it became popular to choose wives with musical talent."

"It doesn't help that their instructor is getting up there in age." Travis says. "I am not so sure the woman can hear anymore. She has to be what 45? Won't be long before she heads to the elder camps."

"Maybe we should see if there is a skilled musician we can bring back from Axiom," Grayson says thoughtfully.

"That sounds like a good idea," Travis replies. "You guys go get settled in the carriage and I will run it by father."

Grayson, Laura, and I gather up our things and load them on the carriage.

"Does it take very long to get there?" I ask.

"Only a couple of hours," Grayson says. "Axiom and Veracity were the first two cities built, and they are much closer together than any of the others. The next closest is two days away."

"I am excited to see it," I say. "And nervous."

"It is almost a mirror city to Veracity," he says. "A few customs are different of course, but for the most part, it is much like this one. I am glad that this year is their year for donating brides, it could do you good to see your home."

"You are not afraid of my memory returning?" I ask, surprised.

"No, I know you are strong enough to handle what might be lying in there. It will be unpleasant, but you could take it. You are stronger than people give you credit for," he says.

"Thank you, I just hope I get the chance one day to find out."

Just then Travis bounds up into the carriage, making Laura squeal when it rocks back and forth. Travis is laughing at his sister's distress when he drops down into the seat beside me. I notice Grayson's eyes go dark when Travis takes my hand. We take off, and Grayson settles down into his seat, lowering his forehead against the window and closing his eyes. It appears he has reverted back to his anti-social persona.

"So I hear father may have picked you out a husband finally," Travis says to Laura.

"Oh I hope so," she says. "I am so bored hanging around here. I should be fat with a baby by now."

"Did he tell you what city he is from?" Travis asks.

"Not yet, he wants to get it set in stone blah, blah, blah . . . You know father, he is afraid I am going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. I do know he is a General's son though."

"Well that's good," Travis says. "No need to change your lifestyle too much then."      

"Next we just need to get Grayson engaged again," she says.   

"In good time," Travis says, softly. "Losing a great love is not something that is easily remedied. I only hope he can move past it soon and start living his life again."

"Maybe life doesn't have the same appeal anymore," Grayson grunts with his eyes still closed.

"Not asleep then?" Travis asks.

"Not asleep then," Grayson agrees.

"You should know better Travis," Laura cracks. "If Grayson isn't snoring, he isn't asleep!"

"I do not snore," Grayson protests.

"Should I get a scanner out brother?" Laura laughs.

"No need for all that," he says gruffly, settling back down in his false sleep as Travis and Laura laugh.

The two of them return to their small talk, and I find myself drifting off.  After what feels like only a few minutes, Travis nudges my shoulder gently.

"We are here, Kat, welcome home."

Grayson wasn't kidding when he said that Axiom is a mirror copy of Veracity. The same buildings line the same main road, and an identical Big House sits at the end. Even the buildings are color coded in the same order.

A small crowd of people meets us as we pull up to the Big House. I scan their faces, trying to pick out my brother, but they all blend together, no one any more familiar than another. As I exit the carriage, a radiant young woman steps forward to take my hand.

"Katherine!" she cries, "I am so happy to see you!" 

"Thank you," I say. "I am so sorry, but . . . I don't remember who you are."

"I am your sister-in-law, Sarah," she says. "Lucas' wife."

Stunning with long, blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, Sarah shines in a radiant aura of self-confidence. Not much taller than I am, she has a tiny frame and a surprising amount of curves. Her lips, which are curved in a natural smile, are full and red.

"Lucas has been called away for business," she says apologetically. "He is not sure if he will make it back in time to see you. This is John; he will show you to your rooms. I have opened up a newly renovated hall in the west wing just for your arrival."

"I am sure Katherine would prefer staying in her old rooms," Grayson says.

"Lucas was very clear that she would not be staying there," Sarah says, with feigned sweetness. "He is adamant on doing everything he can to prevent Katherine from suffering the return of her memories, and I agree with him."

"I think she would be just fine," Grayson grumbles.

"A woman's mind can be delicate Grayson," Sarah says. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did anything that might damage the fragile balance of her temperament."

"The west wing will work just fine," I say, trying to defuse the building argument. "I trust that Lucas and Sarah have only my best interests at heart."

As we walk the hallways, I try to take in every detail, desperate to jog my memory. I picture myself as a small girl running through these rooms, but none of it feels real to me. Axiom's Big House is identical in shape and design to the one in Veracity, and the decor is disappointingly similar. Nothing stands out, or seems familiar

The west wing is light and airy with large windows and silk curtains.  It is obvious that great care was taken in the renovation of these suites, and no detail was neglected, nor expense spared, in the design. With its abnormally large rooms filled with grand furniture and rich fabrics, the west wing is a testament to the wealth and taste of the first family. After showing us each to our quarters, John advises us to freshen up and meet in the ballroom in an hour.

Sadie is already in my room when I walk in, waiting to help me undress. I spend most of my hour in the bathroom washing off the grime from the trip. Soaking in the deep tub, my mind drifts to Grayson, like it usually does. I am a terrible fiancée.

Laying my head against edge of the tub, I imagine the two of us together in the safe house; the feel of his arms wrapping around me as I wept. He seemed so different then, and it hurts to see the tortured expression he carries with him now. Everyone keeps talking about his lost love whom he is pining for. Even he has referenced her. If he is really suffering such heartache, why do I still get the feeling his is trying to entice me?

I am jolted back to reality when Sadie sticks her head into the bathroom to hurry me along. Since so much of my time had been wasted daydreaming, we dry my hair quickly and tie it back in a simple braid.

"I would like to wear one of my mother's gowns if any are unpacked," I say.

"They are unpacked, but Sarah brought you a dress while you were bathing."

"Why would she do that?"

"It's a . . . special dress."

"What do you mean, a special dress?"

Walking out of the bathroom, I am greeted with a lavish, gold gown. I groan at the sight of it, falling facedown onto the bed. Am I not different enough? Is there not enough talk behind my back? No one wears gold. Raising my head slightly, I glance at the dress. The beaded lace bodice is strapless and cut low at the hips, leading to a full skirt with tulle and organza vertical ruffles. I have to admit that it's gorgeous.

The bodice is a corset and I have to stand, bracing myself against the bedpost as Sadie ties up the back. I slip on the dainty, gold heels and diamond tiara that were left with the dress, as Sadie shakes her head in amazement. She places a comforting hand on my shoulder; we both know this will end in trouble. There is a sharp knock on the door, and a grim woman enters unannounced.