Once An Eve Novel

I’d be forced out of Califia, that I’d be sent back into the wild, alone.
    After a long pause, Maeve finally let out a breath. “We’re not throwing anyone out,” she said. Arden squeezed my fingers so hard it hurt. In the faint light, her face looked even thinner, her cheeks hollow and gray. “Besides, it would be silly not to use this to our advantage. If the King discovers her here, he discovers all of us. And we’ll need her as a bargaining chip.”
    My chest tightened. “If that’s how you rationalize letting her stay, fine,” Quinn tried again. “But he won’t track her here. She’s no more of a risk than anyone else.”
    “I hope you’re right,” Maeve said. “But if he does, we won’t be martyred on her behalf. You’ll take her to the bunker and stay there until we’re ready to release her to the troops. This could be our chance at independence from the regime.”
    I felt sick, remembering how I had thanked Maeve endlessly after I’d arrived—when she set a plate of food in front of me, when she found clothes for me at the store, when she heated rainwater for my baths. It’s nothing , she’d said, waving me off. We’re happy to have you .
    A few more whispered words passed between them before Maeve strode out of the living room, Isis and Quinn following right behind. Arden and I slid back, trying to stay out of sight. “They’re not going to find her here—they have no reason to,” Quinn said, one last time.
    “It’s nearly four,” Maeve said, holding up her hand. “There’s nothing more to say. Why don’t you two go home and get some rest?” She carefully opened the door and parted the thick curtain of ivy that hid the front entrance. As they left, I could hear Isis starting the argument again.
    Maeve turned the lock and started up the stairs. All the breath left my body. Arden and I scurried along the wall like mice, desperate to get back to our room. We landed in bed just as Maeve reached the top step. I pulled the blanket up over us and lay my head down, closing my eyes, pretending to be asleep.
    The door opened. The glow of a lantern warmed our faces. She knows you were listening , I thought, my mind sprinting ahead of me. She knows and now she’ll lock you in that bunker until she turns you over to the King .
    But the light was steady. She didn’t move. I only felt the heavy dog at my feet, her head lifting, probably offering Maeve the same sweet gaze she’d offered me.
    “What are you looking at?” Maeve finally muttered. Then she closed the door behind her and started down the hall, leaving us there in the dark.

five
     
    THE FOLLOWING DAY WAS OPPRESSIVELY BRIGHT. I’D GOTTEN used to the gray skies of San Francisco, the fog that settled on us every morning, rolling over the hills and out to sea. Now, as Arden and I left Maeve’s house, the sun burned my skin. The reflection off the bay was blinding. Even the birds seemed too cheerful, chattering away in the trees.
    “Remember—we didn’t hear anything,” I whispered. But Arden’s lips were pressed into a thin line. She’d never been good at pretending. Back at School she’d been in a miserable mood in the weeks before her escape. She’d separated herself from the rest of us, standing at the sink in the corner as she brushed her teeth, not looking at us as she hunched over the dining hall table during meals. I’d suspected she was planning something that night before graduation, but had assumed it was another of her stupid pranks. I never would’ve guessed the truth.
    We wound down the narrow, vine-covered path until it emptied out to the waterfront. The skeletal remains of boats were piled up on the rocks, their windows smashed in, their paint peeling away. A few rested belly-up. Out across the bay, the rest of Marin was just a green mound, the trees growing between the houses, hiding them under their leaves.
    Arden pulled the linen shirt around her thin frame, steeling herself against the wind blowing in off the water. “I could barely look at Maeve at breakfast,” she said. Heddy walked beside us, her black fur shining in the sunlight. “Knowing she’s planning to—”
    “We can’t talk about this here,” I said, glancing at the row of shrouded storefronts. The front window of a café was covered with newspaper, but I could hear women cooking—pots clanking against one another, water sloshing around in the sink. “Wait until we’re on the boat.”
    It was impossible to find privacy