Rosalyn and the Secret of the Bluebloods

Chapter Four

  Over the past couple of days, I've kept my realization to myself. Along the way, Cassian and I have used our water sparingly, slept under trees and caves, and shot down more than a few perfectly good animals. Now, as I follow the blond up a grassy hill, water slowly trickles down besides us. Flecks of ash float on the surface, and the water itself is a dark, polluted brown. It's only a reminder that the water we brought must be kept safe at all costs in the West Province. There's no telling what a dehydrated citizen would do to us to attain it.
As we crest the hill, a sea of crumbling buildings rises in the distance. An unnatural chill goes through me, starkly contrasting the heat around us. Together, we stare at the broken city, I with awe, him with haunted eyes. Taking in the place he never wanted to see again. With an angry jerk on the reins, he descends towards the West Province, and I hurry to catch up.
We cross the border within the hour. The city is absolutely devastated, reeking of ash, human odor, and silence. At the sound of hoof-steps, its people crawl out from under toppled skyscrapers and broken-down cars to glare at us. Suddenly, I'm self-conscious of my expensive tunic and the healthy glow in my features, the water bobbing in the saddle bag beside me.
"Foreigner," a woman hisses from an alley as I pass, her cheeks hollowed with hunger.
I shiver, nudging my horse faster. I've always known the West Province was no stranger to poverty, but nothing could have prepared me for the nightmare I've willingly walked into. How could Cassian have survived this?
Without looking back, he waves me forward, and I hurriedly trot to his side.
"Keep your head down," he whispers, clenching his reins. "Don't look at anyone. Don't talk to anyone. And if I say run and leave me, you do it without hesitation. Do you understand me, Rosalyn?"
I nod slowly, lowering my head to my horse's mane. Satisfied, Cassian warily takes the lead again, directing us down an abandoned block. After an eternity, he dismounts at the remains of a bar, seemingly without reason. I do the same.
"Where are we?" I ask uneasily, taking in the building.
He's about to answer when his mount shifts, revealing a dark, gaping hole underneath the bar. Dread seeps through my veins as I look to Cassian for clarification.
"Remember what I said," he says, shifting his gaze uncomfortably.
With a click of his tongue, he encourages his steed in, and I reluctantly follow. After tying our horses just inside the entrance, we gradually inch deeper into the tunnel. Sparsely lit torches cast flickering shadows across the walls, leaving me glued to the boy's side.
  Finally, we enter a crowded room stocked with people. A group of men and women order drinks at a makeshift bar, others play cards while lounging on a couch, and still more stare at us skeptically from the corner. Everyone in the den wears either pressed, tailored shirts or dangerously short dresses — their hair combed neatly and their laughing faces showcasing the same, healthy glow. Without a doubt, these people are a different species than the ones above ground. As I take everything in, a tall, muscular man approaches us, folding his arms over his chest suspiciously. Cassian shifts subtly in front of me, and I subconsciously reach for my now-hidden dagger.
"Password?"
In a flash, Cassian's eyes dart to me, as if what he's going to say next will upset me. I give him a reassuring nod.
"Blueblood," he finally declares.
  Surprise courses through me. The man stares at us for another moment, and then his face breaks into a smile.
  "It's good to see you, Cass," he admits, enfolding him in a bone-crushing hug.
  "You too, Hawk," Cassian says genuinely, oblivious to my shock.
  Hawk releases him, giving me a once-over. "Who's the girl?"
  Cassian glances at me, as if just now remembering that I'm standing here. "This is Rosalyn. She's a . . .friend."
  "Pleasure," Hawk grins, shaking my hand roughly. "Though I've never known Cass to only be friends with a girl like you."
  The blond rolls his eyes, hitting Hawk lightly on the arm with a smile.
  He laughs heartily in return. "You know I'm just teasing you, bud," Hawk says sheepishly, as if suddenly realizing we're not here to play poker. He shifts his weight, asking, "So, what can I do for you?"
  "We need the Wood," Cassian confesses quietly.
Hawk's gaze darkens, flicking to me again. "I see," he murmurs, his expression unreadable. "Follow me."
We obey, trailing him through several tunnels and the curious gazes of onlookers. Finally, Hawk leads us into a dimly-lit cave, the only objects in it a torch and a small twin bed. Cassian and I glance at each other, puzzled as Hawk kneels on the dirt floor. He digs determinedly at the spot underneath the torch for several seconds until he reveals a small metal box. Curiously, I step closer, and the man pulls a worn necklace out of his shirt. A key dangles from it, reflecting the torchlight as he unlocks the box.
"There you have it," Hawk grumbles, removing a small piece of bark from the contraption. "Ravenwood."
Gingerly, I take the reagent, admiring the geometric design on either side before tucking it into my tunic. A sense of accomplishment washes over me, and I'm suddenly eager to return the Wood to the East Province.
  "Had anyone else asked for this, the answer would be no," Hawk discloses unexpectedly. He glances between us. "But I'll always do what's best for our people, and right now, that's supporting your cause with everything I have."
  He nods at Cassian before suddenly remembering that he's still on all fours.
"It must be almost nightfall," he observes, climbing to his feet. "Rest here for the night, and I'll have you escorted back to the border in the morning."
He scratches the stubble on his chin as Cassian and I glance at each other. "Although, the only spare room we have only has one bed," he admits.
The atmosphere is suddenly thick with tension. "I'll sleep on the floor," Cassian states matter-of-factly.
"No," I groan, the first word I've said since arriving. "We both need rest for the journey home."
Hawk sighs dramatically. "Just cut the crap and sleep in the same bed," he says, throwing his hands in the air.
So we do, and as I lay next to Cassian in awkward silence, I'm hyperaware of the warmth of his body, of our shoulders brushing, of every breath he takes. I'm hyperaware of my mission to get to know him, and all too knowledgeable of my failure to do so. The last thing I want is to disappoint Haleigh, but I'm not willing to risk my friendship with Cassian either — so I lay here, dying to know why the password is Blueblood and not uttering a word about it. That is, until a dark thought creeps into my head, a thought so foreign and curious that I have to get it out by any means possible. So, I turn to the boy, propping my head up with my hand and trying to think of the best way to ask it.
"Cassian?"
"It's Cass."
  "Oh . . .Cass?"
We stare at each other in the dark, barely able to make out each other's silhouettes.
I take a deep breath before continuing. "What happens to Bluebloods?"
He's silent for a long moment, as if weighing the risks of telling me. "Nobody knows," he says softly, his arm brushing mine as he whispers.
Unsatisfied, I press deeper. "My sister . . .she disappeared on her Blood Day two years ago. Do you think . . .?"
He hesitates before answering, then reluctantly admits, "Yes, Rosalyn . . .I do. I'm sorry."
My suspicions confirmed, my blood pressure skyrockets, leaving me breathless and curious all at once.
"Cass, how do you know if you're a Blueblood?"
"You don't," he says cryptically. "Unless . . .you experience Blood Day in the West Province," he slowly adds. "If they tell you you're type X, you go underground so the East Province can't find you. The rest of the blood types live on the surface," he explains carefully, gauging my reaction.
  As I process the information, he hurriedly covers his tracks.
  "Although, as far as anyone in the East Province is concerned, we're both type A's, and I never told you this."
  I nod, then remember he can't see me. "Of course."
  "Good," he sighs, leaning back against the pillows. "Because you can't trust a soul in Clean Water Industries. Not Haleigh, and certainly not Damien."
  "What? Why not?" I ask defensively.
  He thinks for a minute before answering. "You already know why, darling. And I think you've known why for two years."
  He rolls over, ending the conversation and leaving me with more questions than I had to begin with.
  Bewildered, I stare into the darkness, thoughts racing a hundred miles an hour. Racing, because he'd confirmed what I've suspected since Blood Day.
  Clean Water Industries isn't safe anymore. And maybe it never was.