Chapter 98: Taran

Although Diogo has asked that I stay indoors, I can't help but be drawn to the roof. Every day I drift toward the rooftop terrace, looking out into a city covered in grey ash, the only splash of colour the fires that continue to burn, choking Sanctuary. The ash doesn't rain down daily, only when the wind is high, but often enough to coat our city. Today the flakes land on me and on the terrace, landing like the snowflakes of my childhood. Light and fluffy, but not nearly as innocent as snow. It darkens the sky, obscuring the buildings around me. Even the fires are harder to spot through the thick ash.
I've been doing the same thing for the past two months, since Emery came to live in the Tower. Since I offered Diogo a way to unite our city. Coming to the top of the building and watching our city as it wars against itself. Buildings burn, cars, homes, everything. Nothing and no one is safe. This is what I've tried repeatedly, and failed repeatedly, to tell Diogo. I am not safe up here in my tower. The rebellion will push forward, despite his brutal attempts to squash it. I should be down there, on the ground, at his side. I should be arguing for a united city. People will listen to me.
The city is particularly smoky today. When the West wall was set alight, the billowing smoke lasted for days. I wonder if it's the wall again or if it's something closer. The sharp acrid smell suggests the rebellion has finally spilled into Sector One.
"Taran, what are you doing out here." Diogo's urgent voice startles me.
He rushes toward me and drags me back into the stairwell leading down to our apartment. I yelp at his tight grip, but he doesn't release me. Instead he spins me around to face him and starts brushing at me with his gloved hands. I gape at him while he dusts me off. He's wearing a bandana over his face. He continues to beat at me until I shove his hands away with a shout.
"Stop it, Diogo, that hurts!"
"I'm sorry, baby," he says, but doesn't stop. He reaches for the buttons on my blouse and rapidly starts to undress me. "All this ash, it's no good for you and the turnip. You can't stand outside anymore, it'll get into your lungs."
I'm caught somewhere between amusement because my pet name for our child has caught on and annoyance. Can't go outside anymore? The roof is one of the few pleasures I have left during my enforced captivity.
"I was checking on the nest, to see if Skye's come back yet." I sound dejected, even to my own ears. Those first few weeks after I'd found out I was pregnant I'd gone to visit her daily, talking about birth and parenthood. Asking her the tough questions that I was too afraid to ask anyone else. Did she love her babies? How did she know she loved them? After all, they're noisy, smelly, demanding and ungrateful. Was she terrified that they would die? Was she afraid to let them learn to fly, to go off on their own?
And then the inevitable happened. One day I went up to see her and the nest was empty. I was terrified that the something had happened to them, but Diogo assured me that she probably took them out through the hole in the greenhouse. That the babies were old enough to leave the nest.
"She'll come back, baby," Diogo reassures me.
"How do you know?" For some reason I can't just let her go. I'm invested in the bird, she's part of our growing family.
"Because she always does," he says simply, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs.
Relief surges through me. "She's done this before?"
"Yes, several times. Our Desert Wren is a seasoned mama." I smile at his word choice. He continues, "She'll probably leave the city entirely until it's safe to return. The fire is driving out any wildlife that manages to get inside."
"I like to go up to the roof to watch the fires," I admit, as we step out into our main living area. "I need to know what's happening out there, especially in the slums."
"You shouldn't be worrying about them," he says sharply. "Stress isn't good for the baby."
I snort. "I'm still aware that the fires exist when I'm inside. We do have windows, Diogo. I worry constantly about the rebel flareup and you telling me not to worry isn't going to stop me being anxious. Until I'm on the ground, talking to my loyal followers and smoothing the unrest, I'll continue to worry." Diogo has consistently refused my requests to try to integrate rebels into the elite systems, insisting it's too dangerous and that pardoning rebels to play key roles in the city would set a bad precedent. I don't agree with him and like to remind him on a semi-frequent basis.
He growls and turns me in his arms so that I'm facing him. "You know I can't do that, Taran. You and the baby are too vulnerable. There's a traitor passing information along to the rebels. Until I know who it is, until we can stamp out this rebel uprising, you need to stay here, stay separated from the danger."
"I don't understand," I say. "How do you know there's a traitor?"
He shakes his head allowing some of his frustration to show. "Every time we get a handle on this rebellion the tide changes. Like they know exactly where we're going to be and when. The only way for that to happen is if one of my top lieutenants is dirty. We only discuss our plans in private, with a total of eight people in attendance. I'm about ready to execute the lot of them and start over with a new, more loyal group."
I gasp at his harsh words. "Diogo, you don't mean that."
"I do," he growls. "Whoever it is has put you in danger. I won't tolerate such disloyalty."
I hug myself to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. I stand on tiptoe to kiss the edge of his jaw, my protruding belly pressing against him. "I'm perfectly safe," I insist. "You've made sure of it."
"You aren't safe. The rebels have crossed into Sector One. I rushed home to see you, make sure you were okay. Make sure they hadn't made it to the Tower yet."
I open my mouth to respond, to reassure him once more when the door flies open and slams against the wall. Diogo pulls his weapon and steps in front of me. The move is so reminiscent of the time Garrett had burst in on us that I have to fight tears as I remember his violent death.
"Fuck, Truss," Diogo snarls. "I could've killed you."
Grayson ignores Diogo's annoyance. "Commander, something's happening. You need to come right away."
"What is it?" he demands. "I don't want to leave Taran."
Grayson shakes his head. "You need to hear for yourself, Commander. Bring her, it involves her sister."
"No!" I gasp covering my mouth.
"Just tell me man and stop upsetting my wife or I really will shoot you."
"I can't explain what's happening, sir, because I don't understand it myself. Boss gave me a partial message but there's some kind of interference with the radios. He said you're needed in the control room without delay, that Santa Fe Sanctuary is calling in with an emergency."
Diogo interprets my confused expression. "The control room is where we can receive long-range transmissions. They're not easy to fine tune so we don't often get calls, but it's how we keep in touch with other Sanctuaries."
"I didn't know that was possible." I can't keep the accusation from my voice. Why wouldn't he tell me it's possible to call my sister, to talk to her, listen to her voice, reassure myself that she's still alive?
I can't read his expression, but the look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He's sorry I'm hurt by this knowledge, but he wouldn't change his actions even if he could.
"We'll talk about this later," I say coldly, heading for the door. "For now, let's go find out what's wrong with my sister."
"You're not coming," he says just as coldly, grabbing my arm and spinning me around.
I raise my eyebrows. "You've done some questionable things since we've met. Forced me into marriage, locked me up in this apartment, arrested and threatened my friends. I've forgiven a lot, Diogo. But I can promise you, if you don't let me go and listen to Skye's voice, especially if she's in trouble, I won't forgive you."
He growls and slams his fist into the table then reaches up and grabs his head while he thinks. He knows I'm just as safe with him as I am trapped up here. I've manipulated his feelings to get what I want, but I don't regret it. Diogo is a bulldozer, running over everything in his path to get what he wants. I need him to stop and listen. I need to hear Skye's voice.
"Okay, let's go," he relents, but grips my arm and gives me a little shake. "You follow my every command the moment it's given. I tell you to duck, you duck. I tell you to run, you run and don't look back. Understand?"
I nod solemnly and assure him, "I won't put our baby at risk."
He insists on carrying me down the stairs for safety. Part of me wonders if he just doesn't want to go as slow as I tend to move these days. My heart skips a beat in trepidation. I haven't left the building in months. I'm both scared to death and thrilled to be back on the ground again. I've had one terrifying experience after another and they seem to keep happening when I leave the apartment, but I still want to know what's happening out there, to see for myself.
As we reach the lobby, several guards fall into step around us. I gape at them. I hadn't known they were down here. I suppose it makes sense though. The Tower is well known throughout Sanctuary, it would become a target of rebel extremists if they made it this far. As we step out onto the sidewalk, Diogo covers my head with his hand, pushing it into his shoulder. I catch only a glimpse of a mob as the guards start shouting angrily and pushing them back.
Some voices do filter through.
"Desert Wren!"
"The Warlord has our girl."
"Let her go!"