Broken Skies

After a few more swipes with my fingernail, the edge of the tape lifts and I’m able to grasp it and pull it off, the key following. I scramble out from under the desk. My hands are shaky, so I miss on the first attempt to fit the key into the lock, but it slides in easily the second time. Another sigh of relief eases past my lips.

The drawer is nearly empty and I can tell at first glance that what I need isn’t in there. Still. No. Keyring. What is the point of the locked drawer if all it has in it is more useless paper? Dammit. I start to close the drawer, but something shifts in the back and I pull it back open. The drawer doesn’t open all the way so the far corners are hidden from view. Reaching my hand back, my fingers brush against cold metal. I grab the object and pull it forward out of the drawer.

It’s a….I have no idea. Vaguely round in shape and almost entirely smooth, the palm-sized object is not anything I’ve ever seen. It must have some use, maybe even something important, for it to be locked in the drawer. I pull it out, set it on the desk and reach back in.

Another brush of metal against my fingers, but this object is a little more identifiable. It’s a bracelet, no a cuff. Similar in style to what Lir called a kitu but with intricate engravings. It goes to the top of the desk as well.

The papers might be helpful too, so I pull on one of the stacks. Turns out it’s one piece of paper folded multiple times. The edges are yellow with age and it’s heavily creased. Placing it on the desk, I carefully unfold it. A map. Not just any map, one from before the Collapse. I trace the lines co

My father taught me enough about before that I know this is a map of what used to be Virginia and I easily find what is now Bridgelake on it. Even better, I can navigate the lines and miles over to the nearest large city, the one taken by the E’rikon. A grin breaks across my face. This I know will come in handy.

My thumb pauses over a large red X, not something on the original map, but something written on it. I draw my eyes away from the route to Jace and study the rest of the map as well. There are four more X’s spread out across it, each one with numbers written next to it. 2,345… 1,506…3,124…3,003… And then there’s a large red circle around an area about 300 miles to our West. Inside it are the words “Population 11,537.”

Population of what? It can’t possibly mean people. Bridgelake is the largest remaining human settlement and there are only around ten thousand people here. And the X’s? Could they be population numbers too? Flint’s earlier words come back to me. The alien attacks. They’ve been wiping out settlements. All those people…. And they have Jace.

My hand slaps over my mouth to cover my gasp. I’ve got to get moving. There’s no time to waste.

I fold the map back hurriedly, cringing a little when it rips at one of the creases. It’s not going to fit into my dress, not without looking overly awkward. I need something to put it in. There are no folders or envelopes on the desk, but there’s a tiny, faded leather satchel sitting in the corner near the door. I cross the floor and grab it, tossing the map, the cuff and the metal object into it.

And there is the stupid keyring. Sitting in plain sight on a bookshelf to my right. It’s a little overly obvious, I mean, can Dane really be that… stupid? I shrug and scoop it up. Then, I sling the satchel across my body and climb back out the window, my knees absorbing the brunt of the impact with little trouble. My breath pushes past my lips in a huff and I stumble forward a few steps.

The sound of Dane’s voice hits my ears and I glance around frantically for a place to hide the satchel. I have to settle for shoving it into a bush and hoping it’s small enough not to be noticed. I’ll have to come back for it later.

My heartbeat’s just settling into its normal rhythm as I round the corner and see Dane and Flint walking toward me from the other end of the street. I jerk as if hit and my pulse immediately picks up again. It’s too late to backtrack. Flint’s already got his hand up in a low wave and Dane is giving me that creepy ‘now I’ve got you’ grin. I slow my steps and take a few deep breaths, struggling to control my racing heart and smiling as demurely as I can. It would really suck to get caught now.

“Hello, Dane, Flint,” I say. “Lovely to see you.”

Flint’s eyebrows have disappeared up into his hairline somewhere and his return smile is uneasy. “Hey, Jax.”

“Good evening, Jasmine,” says Dane. “You look stu

Is he really serious? He pretty much issued a death sentence for my brother earlier and now he wants to chat about clothing choices? “Well you know, the festival and all…” I blink rapidly to prevent myself from rolling my eyes.

“Yes, you young people do like an excuse to dress up.” Dane’s cheesy grin grows and his eyes slide to Flint at his side. “I do have some great news for you though.”

“Oh.” Alarm bells sound in my head. Anything Dane thinks is great is probably not, in fact, whatever his news is, it’s probably the last thing I want to hear right now.

Dane doesn’t wait for me to ask anyway. “In light of the recent events and your newly unfortunate circumstances, I’ve decided to grant you a concession.”

He seems to be waiting for a response from me. “Thank you?… Sir.”

“Letting you be Promised early was an easy decision when I realized I had the perfect man for you.” Dane pats a pale-faced Flint on the back.

My smile shatters and I struggle to keep from screaming. Promised early? I open my mouth, but my suddenly dry throat won’t let any words by.

“Speechless with gratitude I see.” Dane’s expression twists into something more sinister, his eyes boring into me. “You’ll do well to remember my generosity this evening in light of your flaunting of the rules earlier.” Just like that his face morphs again, into the jolly leader. “Well, come along then.”

Before I can protest, Dane reaches out to grab my arm, but Flint beats him to it, grasping my bicep and pulling me into his side. “I’ve got her Sir. Jax and I have some things to discuss anyway.”

I glare at Flint’s hand on my arm and then directly into his face. I don’t have anything to discuss with him.

The walk is silent except for the sound of my feet dragging in the dirt. Flint’s eyes dart from me to Dane and he opens his mouth a few times but then shakes his head and shuts it after another glance at Dane. So maybe there is something to discuss, but not anything he wants to say in front of his father.

I slow my steps until Flint is forced to fall behind alongside me. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve got this under control. Just trust me,” he says.

Dane gestures ahead for us to catch up. I guess trusting Flint is my only choice right now. He wouldn’t actually go through with the Promising. I’m sure he knows how I feel about that whole thing. Right?

The closer we get to the square, the louder my pulse pounds in my ears. My palms may be sweaty, but inside I’m ice cold with something approaching terror. The only thing keeping me moving is Flint’s grasp on my arm.

A large crowd surrounds the stage where the eligible girls wait. That’s where we’re heading right now. I navigate the outskirts of the group fine, jerking my shoulders to the side and stepping carefully to avoiding ru

Little gasping inhalations are all I can manage and when the first hand pats me on the arm, my heart stutters. The hand is co