Chapter 43: Taran

The days following my conversation with Diogo are agony. He wants to talk about everything, discover every facet of my life. With each discussion, I can see his brain turning over and over, thinking about my upbringing and my time within his city walls. I feel that I'm on the verge of bringing our Warlord around to a new way of thinking. Knowing that I must betray him burns a hole right through me, eats me alive with every conversation. With every kiss and every touch.
I'm as in love with my husband as he is with me. But I'm going to leave him. If there's even the glimmer of a chance that one or both of my grandparents are alive and living in the mountains then I have to go. See for myself if the rumours are true, and if they are, I need to search the face of every person in the mountain settlement until I either find the ones I'm looking for or finally bury them in my heart.
Every time I think of them out there, living in the mountains, waiting for me to come rescue them I get the gnawing feeling of desperately needing to leave but not being able to. It obsesses my mind to the point that if I could walk out the door right now and scale the wall, I would. Diogo has added another man to my guard, posting him on the roof. I can't even sit up in the greenhouse without a silent companion shadowing every move. I know that I shouldn't hope, that the odds of finding my grandparents alive are astronomically slim. But odds don't matter to a grieving heart and I've been grieving them from the last glimpse I had as I was dragged through the city doors while they were pushed out.
The stack of plates I'm holding clatters as I drop them on the table. I sigh and try to focus on my task. Diogo has decided that we'll have guests for dinner. He's invited a few of his top lieutenants and their spouses. A total of six people including us. He told me I didn't have to do anything, but I need to keep my hands busy or I start to plot my escape. I can't escape yet, not until Xavier says its time, though I don't understand the hold up. Then I feel guilty because I plan on leaving a man who needs me in his life. A man that I've fallen in love with.
The food was delivered earlier. I'd stood staring in awe, hovering around the kitchen as loads of cooked meat, vegetables, gravy, bread and butter were brought in. I decide it's best for me to set the table, keep my hands busy, so I don't sneak into the kitchen and steal food. After I finish setting the table and lighting a couple of candles, I decide to change. I wasn't going to, even though Diogo provided me with a few nicer outfits when he replaced my wardrobe. I'll be eating with elites. Why should I try to look good for them? But now I want to wear a dress, look as good as I can. Show them that the poor people from the slums can look good, eat with manners and act like a human. I'll take this chance to show them that the people they push below them are just like them. Foster some discomfort at the way they treat others, even if indirectly.
Diogo enters the bedroom just as I'm tugging my new dress into place. I frown over my shoulder at him. "Does it look right?" I ask. "It's been years since I've worn one."
His eyes travel down my body, taking in the white fabric with its pretty blue flower print where it hugs my breasts, waist and hips before flaring out to land just above my knees. Then he walks up behind me and drops a kiss on my shoulder. "You look better than that meal out there. Bet you taste better too."
I grin and drop into the seat in front of my vanity. Brushing my hair in long even strokes I watch as he changes from his every day work clothes into his formal uniform. My mouth waters as he pulls on the jacket with its crest and insignia. I've come to have a better understanding and even an appreciation for what that uniform means. He's the man who watches over an entire region, protecting us from harm. I despise his practice of sacrificing some for the good of the many, but I understand why he does it.
His broad shoulders and tall, muscular body fill out the uniform, giving him a larger than life appearance. He comes up behind me, takes the brush from my hand and sets it on the table. Taking my hand, he pulls me around on the seat and helps me stand.
"Beautiful," he says, his grim mouth curving into a rare smile. "Are you ready to greet our guests?"
I give him a mischievous look. "I'll try not to scare them."
His own expression is serious when he says, "I want you to scare them, baby. I want you to be yourself and show them why they can't live in the bubble they've created up here."
I sigh and run my hand down his sleeve. "Diogo, if it were possible to change the minds of the elites, we wouldn't be living in this situation. Did you see any of them out in the streets defending us during the food riots? No. Because their bellies are full and it would endanger their way of living to lower themselves to help us. If caring about a group of people they don't know means changing their comfortable lives then they'll continue to bury their heads in the sand and deny the existence of a problem."
He takes my head in his hands and drops a kiss on my lips. "That's why I need them to meet you, Taran. It's harder to ignore a problem when the cause has a face. You'll speak for the people living in the slums, the rebels and the illegals. You'll become their conscience, the way you've become mine."
I laugh humourlessly. "That's a lot to ask of one person."
He shakes his head. "I'm not asking anything. Just be yourself and the rest will fall into place."
The guests include Jorje Cruz and his wife Milla, a man called Stryker, and a young widow named Dee. I'm immediately uncomfortable. The women are much fancier than I am, wearing long dresses made of a shiny material, shoes with heels and finely cut jackets. Dee is wearing a fur, which doesn't surprise me as fur blankets and coats have become more popular with the shortage of machine-made clothes. I have a blanket made of deer hide in my bedroom at home with Emery. But Dee's fur is made of something much rarer than deer, it looks soft and it's all white.
Everyone is polite to me, but I can feel curiosity with an edge of reserve to their gazes. I ignore them and leave Diogo to host while I stand silently at his side. Even though I'm his wife, I haven't had enough time to consider this my home. Nor are these my friends. And I don't have the capacity to pretend I belong here.
Diogo either doesn't notice the tension in the room or it doesn't bother him. He simply places a hand at my back, endorsing my position as his wife as he introduces me. The greetings are polite but strained. It isn't until we sit down for the meal that things become interesting. A heavy silence lingers over the table as everyone eats quietly. Finally, Milla puts her fork down, side-eyes her husband and then lifts her eyes to me. Instead of hostility, as I was mostly expecting from this group, I just see eager curiosity.
"Are the rumours true?" she asks, her voice hushed, though it carries clear across the table. "Are you actually the Desert Wren, and did you actually climb the wall? Hundreds of times I've heard!"
Dee drops her fork and stares at me in expectation while Milla's husband sighs heavily and looks down at his food disapprovingly. I suspect it's not the food that's bothering him, as it's a fabulous mouth-watering meal, but his wife's fascination with the Desert Wren. The others around the table stop eating and listen with curiosity.
I shrug and set my fork down carefully too. I glance at Diogo, but he's only watching us with a neutral expression. I've come to know him well enough that if he didn't want me telling these women who I am, I wouldn't be allowed to speak, and they wouldn't be here at all, meeting me. He wants us to get to know each other.
"Yes, I suppose I am the Desert Wren. I lived in sector six before Diogo" I glance at him, hesitating over the word ‘arrested' and then say, "took me into his care. And yes, I've climbed the wall many times, but definitely not hundreds."
Dee grins suddenly and says excitedly, "I always wondered how you do it? It's such an immense wall and there are guards everywhere, with guns and orders to shoot anyone found on the wall. You must be very brave."
I laugh at her exaggeration. "Well, it's not an easy task, but it's not impossible. And I was always more likely to get arrested than shot at."
"Not true," Stryker mutters, his eyes flashing to mine, a grim set to his mouth. "Though we don't usually shoot at climbers, we will if we have to. At a guess I'd say you were able to keep yourself hidden from us."
I shrug and look down at my plate, then pick up a bun and tear the edge of it, placing it delicately on my tongue. I really don't want to tell these people, especially the military men, that I had a fair idea of their security rotations, passed on to me by Xavier who got them from whoever is working the inside for us. When I lift my eyes from my plate, Stryker's knowing gaze is on me. He doesn't look angry. I'm saved from having to explain myself when Milla pipes up.
"I heard you were doing it to rescue the refugees trying to come into the city, like a modern-day Robin Hood. So romantic," she sighs, her face dreamy in the candlelight.
I nearly laugh out loud, especially when Diogo catches my eye and I see the humour lighting his features. He's amused by the conversation. His lieutenants are uncomfortable and I have the strangest feeling I've become some kind of legend to these women.
"Umm, the story of Robin Hood has him stealing from the rich and giving to the poor," I explain. Both Milla and Dee nod eagerly leaning forward. Again, I have to suppress the urge to laugh. "Neither of which I ever did. I just escorted illegals safely into the city and found them housing, food and jobs."
"It sounds exciting and romantic," Milla says while Dee nods from beside her. They look at each other and then she continues, "We hardly ever leave Sector One. This is where we live and socialize. Where we get our supplies."
"Climbing the wall and bringing in illegals isn't romantic, it's hot and dirty." I try to explain the reality of the job but they're still looking at me like I'm Robin Hood. I shake my head at them. "I got the job because the guy before me was killed."
"Ferrier Dex," Stryker grunts the name, his eyes flashing to mine again, his expression unreadable. "Killed on the wall."