Starglass

“I despise you, Terra Fineberg.”

Van glowered at me across the library’s checkout desk. His hands were making quick work through a pile of returns. In the morning light of the library, his copper hair looked as dark and shiny as blood. I blanched, stuffing my hands down inside my pockets.

“What did I do? I’m doing—” I glanced out at the people browsing in the stacks and lowered my voice. “I’m doing what you asked of me, aren’t I? I got the poison from Mara. I’m marrying Silvan.”

“Yes. Silvan.” Van’s lips tightened. “Seems a little bird told Rafferty about my friendship with the clock keeper. Did you know that Koen refuses to speak to me now? Says he’s going to marry that Federman girl. Says he deserves a chance to be normal.”

Van’s voice changed as he spoke, revealing deep emotion. I had the sudden disarming suspicion that Van had spent most of the last few days crying.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and then I repeated it for emphasis, to show that I meant it. Because I did. Whenever I thought of what I’d done, I felt halfway ready to puke. “I’m very, truly sorry. I didn’t mean to tell Silvan. It was a mistake. Rachel—”

Van let out a sound of disgust. “I know all about Rachel,” he said. “I know the whole gruesome story. I suppose he’ll forget all of this eventually. He won’t be able to hide his true self for long. But to be honest, Terra, I find it difficult to abide the sight of you right now.”

My cheeks burned. “So why did you ask me here, then?”

“Because people are talking. About your early morning walks to your brother’s quarters. About how you and Silvan Rafferty have been rutting in the fields.”

Heat rose to my face. “We have not rutted!” I said, but then Van lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a soft hiss of air. I guess that was fair. We were in a library, after all.

“We didn’t rut,” I went on, whispering. “It hasn’t gone that far. Besides, how am I supposed to make him believe we’re to be married if I don’t return his affections?”

Van gave a shrug. “Conduct yourself however you want. I don’t care if the two of you screw like bunnies. The only thing I care about is the Children of Abel. I need to know you’re on our side. I need your promise that your little romance with Rafferty is only an act.”

Van spoke like he thought I was some silly girl, helpless before Silvan’s charms. But the flash of anger that I felt was accompanied by a hearty side of guilt, too. My emotions had been fickle lately. Even I wasn’t sure that I could trust them.

“I promise!” I said, forcing the words.

“Good. You know, it won’t take much to set them off.” With a tilt of his head, he indicated the people who browsed through the stacks. “Once you’ve done what we’ve asked of you, there will be chaos. We’re not just a scattered band of rebels anymore. I’m talking ship-wide mutiny.”

Mutiny. My hands went cold at the word. I balled my fists, then thrust them down deep into the pockets of my lab coat.

“That’s what you wanted,” I began, “isn’t it? Riots? Chaos?”

“The people of the Asherah have been complacent for too long,” Van agreed. “As dead as the engines of this ship. Everything’s finally changing, Terra. Thanks to you.”

I looked up. There, in the shadows of the towering bookshelves, in the light that glinted down at us from the stained-glass windows, people watched. Little children grew quiet as their gazes met mine. Old men squinted up from their reading, nodding their gray heads. People touched their fingers to their chests, saluting me. As I looked, Van spoke.

“The citizens are growing restless. They’ve been waiting for something like this for a very long time. And they’ve been patient. But now, with that planet looming overhead? We know we don’t have to wait much longer. And it’s all because of you. Haven’t you seen it, the way people look at you?”

“Maybe,” I mumbled. Then I reconsidered. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’ve had other things on my mind.”

Van’s haughty eyes flashed, as bright as jade. “Yes. Exactly. You’ve been distracted.”

I scowled. When I didn’t reply, Van returned to his work, scanning in the returns one by one. I reached over to a nearby cart, idly running my finger over the rows of spines. Some of the books had water damage, the pages rumpled even as they sat wedged between other books. Some had crumbling covers. Most had been mended over and over again, the book cloth coated with library tape. All were very old.

“Van?” I called, my hand lingering on the top of one of the books.

“What do you want?” he asked with a scowl. I didn’t flinch, not this time.

“What’s going to happen to all these books when we land?”

Van looked down at the volume in his hands.

“We’ll bring what we can to the surface. A shuttle’s worth, maybe. The most important volumes only, of course.”

“But what about the rest? And the library itself?” I gaped up at the stained glass. Planet Earth was cerulean and emerald. Golden stars winked and twinkled behind her. Those windows had always been one of my favorite things on the ship “Do we just . . . leave it here?”

“You know, I used to worry about the same thing. Oh, Benjamin tried to teach me it was a trifle. The library was included in the original manifest only because one of the first Council members insisted on bringing his books along. Argued it would help us preserve Terran culture. Really, it was a luxury our ancestors shouldn’t have been able to afford—books.” He set the book down on the counter, tapping its surface with his index finger.

“We learned of that donor’s wisdom only after the last uprising. A hundred and seventy years ago, the Council deleted our digital archives as a punishment. Within seconds, thousands of volumes . . . gone.” He gestured expansively with his fingers how—poof!—all that information had just disappeared.

“Benjamin and I used to argue about it. I said we needed to bring every volume to the surface even if it took a thousand shuttle trips. We needed our legacy, I said. Then, when he told me about the Council’s plot to keep us in the dome, I told him I hoped the Children of Abel would fail. I told him I didn’t want to leave my home behind. Or the library. The pretty windows. And all these stupid books.”

“But not anymore?” I asked. Van’s expression was bleak.

“I was a child then,” he said. “What did I know about anything? I hadn’t even been in love.”

The frown that creased the corner of his mouth was deep. I felt a lump tighten my throat at the thought of it—of ?Van falling in love with Koen and then losing him because of me. But I swallowed that thought. “Now how do you feel?”

He laughed. Desperate, hollow laughter. “I don’t care about books. I don’t care about buildings. Freedom. That’s what matters. So I can love whomever I please.”

In the darkness of the airless library, Van’s gaze searched mine. He was looking for promises. Vows. My throat grew even tighter. I looked up at the light that passed, green and blue, through the stained glass Earth. Then I looked away.

28

The day arrived when we were to have our bloodlines read. This time Silvan met me at my house—or Ronen’s house, at least. There was no way I was going wandering through the dome in search of him, not after what had happened with Koen.

He arrived early, while I was still brushing the postwork snarls from my hair. Ronen appeared at my bedroom door, jiggling Alyana in his arms.

“Your intended is here,” he said. His smile surprised me. I hadn’t expected any kindness from Ronen, though things had been going better between us lately.

“Thank you.” I set my hairbrush down. Shifting Alyana from one arm to the other, Ronen’s smile grew.