“Very funny. I meant your appearance. We should make you look less like you.” She shakes the newspaper in my direction. “Your hair. Let’s dye it. Cut it. Style it differently, perhaps. Your height, well, nothing we can do there. Your hair should be enough to throw a random passerby. We have a salon on premises. I’ll have a soldier show you the way when you’re finished.”
My hair is the one bit of me that hasn’t changed dramatically since my mother’s death, or even just in the last few weeks. I don’t want to let it go, but there is much more at stake here than my memories. They’re not worth much if I’m dead. “Okay. I don’t want to put anyone in danger. Even Thorne knew who I was.”
Delilah is oddly unsurprised by this information. “I was afraid of that, but Taylor was insistent you be given the opportunity to involve yourself.”
“Unfortunately, I involved myself so poorly we both almost died.”
Her eyes return to another newspaper. “Ah, well, comes with the territory. You both survived, so it counts as a success.”
“I guess I’ll take a win where I can get one.”
“That’s the spirit, dear.”
A few hourslater and a brunette, I’m sent by Delilah to retrieve Taylor for the meeting. Upon reaching our rooms, I notice the black handkerchief is daintily tied around Taylor’s doorknob. Intrigued, I knock on her door. I doubt there is a ten-person orgy being conducted in there, but you never know. People get up to all sorts of surprising things when you make up your mind about who they are.
Taylor opens the door. “Yes?”
Just past her, I spot a girl lying down on her side atop Taylor’s bed, several books splayed out in front of her. Friendly brown eyes flick up to meet mine with a smile. It’s Faith. With a narrowed stare, I walk past Taylor into the room.
“Hi, Lucy.” Faith waves from the bed. Her lissome frame is dressed in the Order shade of green, a low-cut tank top, and a pair of black shorts, with no socks or shoes on. She looks very comfortable here in this room that is not her room, in the presence of the “lieutenant general” of the operation.
“Hello, Faith.” I whirl around to face Taylor. “Delilah needs you downstairs.”
Taylor nods. “We will continue this lesson another time, Faith. If you could excuse us?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, T. Bye, Lucy.” She gathers the books, and, after shooting me a look, pecks Taylor on the cheek and walks out.
“You two seem close.” My effort to make my voice sound casual appears to succeed, as Taylor tilts her head to the side in question. “You and Faith. She called you T.”
Taylor sits on the edge of the bed to slip on her shoes. “Did she?”
I find it hard to believe Taylor didn’t notice, unless her mind was otherwise preoccupied. “What were you two doing? A study session?”
Taylor raises an eyebrow before resuming to tie her shoes. “Certainly notindecent things, if that’s what you were thinking.” With a more solemn expression, she sits up straight. “I was fortunate enough to be found and raised by Theia and the Order. Faith lived on the streets until she was taken in by a madame who was not from OrPro and forced her into sex trafficking as a child. As a result, Faith is, or was, illiterate.”
“Shit.” That doe-eyed act is an act, I think. Perhaps that’s her selling point for customers: the illusion of innocence. In the kind of world we live in, innocence is rarer than gold. “I thought she was new here. She’s a bit nervous.”
“You would be shy around strangers too, if you spent your life being beaten and sexually assaulted,” Taylor says. “Delilah took her in years ago. I met her around that time, when we were both young.”
“Took her in to sell her again?”
Taylor’s eyes narrow. “What else would she do? An illiterate teenager squeamish at the sight of blood who can barely lift a rifle? It is a not perfect situation, but it is what she does best.”
“Right. What do you care if she’s getting banged for cash if they tell her all-important intel?”
“Faith does her job voluntarily. If she were uncomfortable, she would tell me,” Taylor says, less confidently.
“Would she? The Order works on the illusion of choice. Like you said, the bone-deep desperation of the Underclass. The world has given them no other option.” I lift one of the books off the bed and hand it to Taylor. “I’m only saying, you’re practically the poster child for rebellion. She may not want to disappoint you, even if she’s suffering.”
“Faith knows she can confide in me,” Taylor replies sharply. “She is my friend.”
“One of the basic tenets of friendship is you don’t let horrible shit happen to your friends.”
“That is precisely why Faith is here, safe, in a place where the rules are strictly enforced.” Taylor watches me roll my eyes and tries to appeal to me. “Faith is a remarkable, resilient woman. You victimizing her does her a disservice.”
I watch as Taylor stands and nabs a hair tie from the table beside her bed. “It is generous of you to teach her how to read.”
“Faith being literate directly helps the rebellion. An educated public is essential.”