We continue under the thick canopy, which blocks out all but the barest traces of moonlight. Vitelotte’s calm breaths fill my ears, and I slide my gaze to her dark form and wonder about my new friend. Until the Trials, I had never noticed her around Rugosa, but she had noticed me. When we jumped off the ridge, she made a perfect landing, and she killed those girls with startling efficiency.
Nothing about the way she acted tells me she’s a regular Harvester girl like Forelle. I wonder if she’s a Red Runner, but that can’t be right. Ryce is the leader of Rugosa’s youth cell, and I know all its members. If she was one of us, I would have seen her in at least one meeting.
Who is Vitelotte Solar? An Amstraadi spy? I shake off that thought, even though it’s more plausible than her being a Red Runner.
A high-pitched scream makes my heart jolt, and I grab Vitelotte’s arm. “Did you hear—”
“It’s coming from behind that hedgerow,” she points straight ahead.
The screamer begs for mercy, and two other voices laugh. A rush of anger fills my belly. What if that’s Ingrid torturing someone for fun?
I lean into Vitelotte and whisper, “Let’s go.”
She nods, and we continue toward the hedge. Up close, it’s actually bitterthorn, a shrub that produces berries even more poisonous than mandragon. It grows like a weed along the edges of cornfields and if left unchecked, it can wipe out an entire crop.
From a distance, the plant resembles a giant tumbleweed, but each of its branches sprouts thorns that range from the size of my finger to as long as my hand.
We reach the edge of the bitterthorn, which stretches for several feet and on its right side climbs onto the edge of a vertical rock face. Several feet on the left stands a hawthorn tree with a trunk wide and sturdy enough to take the weight of two.
The voice at the other side of the shrub bursts into wracking sobs that remind me of Minnie’s cries for mercy. My steps falter, but the mystery girl’s scream forces me back into action. I grab Vitelotte’s arm and point at the hawthorn.
She follows in silence. Whoops and laughter from the other girls make me remember last night’s hunting party, and I speed ahead. Using the knots in the wood as footholds, I climb up to a thick branch that merges with the branch of a tree on the other side. It takes a little maneuvering to get a vantage point, but as I round the second tree, my gaze lands on light stakes surrounding the entrance of a cave.
Light stakes are temporary posts that embed into the earth with spikes. At the end of them is a powerful bulb that illuminates the fields at night during the harvest.
The stakes around the cave are about five feet tall and light up five girls standing within its threshold. They all wear hoods, save for the fifth girl who's hunched over because someone is gripping her blonde hair. From the girl’s curvaceous figure, it can only be Emmera.
A pair of drones hover at the cave’s entrance, meaning that the producers have overridden whatever Minnie did to block the camera signals.
“Mistresses, please,” Emmera whines. “I can’t.”
One of the girls boots her in the back, making her stumble further into the cave. Emmera dashes out, only for another girl to give her a hard shove. She spins, gets punched by another of the girls, and falls onto her knees. She bows her head, and her body convulses with sobs.
As they surround her, fury simmers in my gut. What on earth do they think they’re doing? Vitelotte mounts a nearby branch, and her angry breaths fill my ears. I dislike Emmera, but it’s an affront to see a Harvester surrounded by bullying Nobles.
“Don’t tell me you’re loyal to Ingrid,” says a mocking voice.
“No,” Emmera cries.
“Then you’ll do us the courtesy of retrieving the statuette from inside the cavern.”
A breath catches in the back of my throat.
Vitelotte hisses through her teeth. “We’ve got to save her.”
My lips form a tight line. Before Emmera sided with the Nobles and tried to hunt me, I might have rushed forward in a blaze of Harvester solidarity. Her betrayal still burns like a bullet wound, and every instinct screams at me to stay in that tree and keep quiet.
Despite this, my hands fumble in my stolen backpack’s side-pocket for the gun. There are two reasons for this. One, if I don’t help, Vitelotte will jump down and might get herself hurt, and two, I don’t want any of those four to retrieve Gaia’s treasure.
I aim my gun at the girl standing between me and Emmera. She’s kicking the fallen girl and laughing at her screams. My finger squeezes the trigger, and in the blink of an eye, the Noble screams and flinches.
“Darby,” one of them yells. “What’s wrong?”
She turns in the direction of the Bitterthorn. “Gunshot.”
The other girl growls. “Ingrid, call off your Guardian dogs.”
I hold my breath and consider the possibilities. If they think Ingrid is behind the attack and wants the treasure for herself, this might work to my advantage. With these guns, we could unite the Nobles against Ingrid, and maybe they’ll stop trying to target me.
Vitelotte makes several accurate shots at the girls surrounding Emmera, once again proving that she’s no ordinary Harvester. I shoot alongside her, hitting the fleeing Nobles and taking down the drones, which fall to the ground with an almighty crash. We don’t stop shooting until the last Noble runs away swearing vengeance against Ingrid.
We wait on our branches for several minutes and watch Emmera cower at the cave’s entrance. Vitelotte makes no move to help the girl to her feet, but eventually, Emmera stands and runs out
