Remy
While the children were away at lunch, I nibbled my peanut butter sandwich and stared down at my pile of perfectly answered quizzes about the solar system. The kids sometimes got their facts mixed up, but they never made the same mistake twice. Their memories were like nothing I’d ever seen. Their bodies were small factories, their brains like little machines. And though I shouldn’t feel a sense of pride at their accomplishments, I couldn’t help it. I’d come to recognize signs of their happiness. They didn’t need to smile for me to see it in their eyes—that glow of gladness. And the way they looked up to me, each one of them hungry for my words of praise, like verbal hugs. Eye contact was their intimacy. If they were ashamed or unhappy, they would not look at anyone.
I heard the doors open, and glanced up to see the Senator coming in. A blush rose to my cheeks as I stood and brushed crumbs from my peach-colored dress with white trim. The high neckline was itchy, but I’d never dare tell the ladies working in the sewing room that.
Senator Navis’s smile was small and warm, but it started to fall as he got nearer. I glanced down, smoothing my dress again and wondering what was wrong. He stopped several feet from me, staring hard at my face.
“You were injured? How?”
Oh. I lifted a hand to touch my tender cheekbone. It must’ve been a bad bruise. We had no mirrors in the Primo Town bathrooms. Shame rose in me like acid at the memory of being hit by that woman.
“I interfered during the exercises yesterday, so it was my fault. Milna fell and hit her head. My instinct was to run to her, and . . . I almost touched her.” I looked down at my twined fingers.
He made a clucking sound and when I glanced up he was staring at the wall, holding his composure together.
“I’m all right,” I told him. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
He looked at me and gave a small, tight smile. “I apologize that you were struck. Your methods with the children are far more gentle than the Baelese methods. I should have warned you.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Thank you.”
“The children are quite fond of you,” he said now. “They ask of you when you are gone.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad to hear that. The cultural differences have been . . . I don’t know.” I hushed, pulling my lips between my teeth.
“A challenge?” he offered.
His understanding made me relax. “Yes. They don’t respond how I’m used to. No calling out or laughing or jumping up and down. And it’s been really hard for me not to touch them. A pat on the shoulder, even. Everything that was normal for me is different. I’m learning, but—” I stopped and looked at him, feeling alarmed as Linette’s voice rang out in my brain to keep going.
“But you miss touching.” His eyes bore into me, and I tilted a little as a wave of heat crashed into my cheeks.
“Yes.” I glanced away from his gaze, only to look back up and find him still watching me. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head.
“Do not apologize for your honesty. The primary difference between humans and Baelese is our deference for self-control. We pride ourselves in it. Humans allow themselves to fall for temptation over and over, even knowing the problems it might cause. People expect one another to fail, so humans hold each other to low standards. But self-control is power. And power is everything.”
I said nothing, just stared at him as he stared back. Only one guard was in the room. He watched us from a distance, so I couldn’t move closer. All I had were my words.
“Senator.” I wet my lips. “Have you ever lost control?”
I was so nervous. Would he be angry at my forwardness?
If anything, he softened.
“Only at the right time and place, Ms. Haines.”
“Like . . . when you mate?”
My chest thumped, and neither of us broke eye contact.
“Yes.” His voice went husky and low. I fought the urge to cross my arms, breathing harder, my chest sort of heaving. I waited for his eyes to dip down for a peek at my boobs, the way a normal man’s might, but he remained in complete control of himself.
Of course he did.
“It is my goal to help humans achieve power over themselves as individuals. To see how much more satisfying life can be in a controlled environment, when you know you can trust the people around you. When everyone is truly equal.”
He was deliberately turning the conversation to safer ground.
“How will you make us equal?” I asked.
“One race, to start.”
I felt my forehead scrunch. There were all races of humans in Primo Town.
He went on. “We will control the reproduction of humans going forward. No two people of the same race will mate.”
My neck craned back and I fought to remain curious-sounding and not aghast. “You’re going to choose who makes babies together?”
“We will use artificial insemination if the pairs we choose do not wish to procreate naturally.”
Oh. My. Lord.
And just as I wondered who they’d have me mate with, I was smacked hard by the memory of my own fate. The fate this creature chose for me.
“I can’t have children,” I whispered. “I was given a shot at one of the DRI clinics before our town was rounded up. Then I was told at Dugway, when I was captive, that those shots caused infertility.”
The Senator watched me, going very still, all but his breathing, which seemed to quicken.
“I am surprised to hear that,” he said. “The orders were to give shots only to those who were socially inept, openly rebellious, or closed-minded to the idea of interracial mating. You don’t seem close-minded.”
“I’m not.”
He had the decency to look ashamed for a split second. “Well, while your eggs might have been depleted, which is a shame, your uterus should still be able to carry an embryo.”
The fire of injustice burned me from within. I tried really freaking hard not to show it. “What an honor.”
The way he stared at me, dissecting my words, I knew he wasn’t buying my syrupy sweet response.
“In the end, it will be better, Ms. Haines. I swear it will.”
How could he think that? We weren’t wired like them. To be controlled was not living. We were created to have free will and thrive by making choices and learning from them. People should love who they wanted to love, and have babies, or not, with the partner of their choice.
The door to the room opened, and children began to file in. The Senator looked crestfallen as he glanced at them and back at me, his voice earnest.
“I want to continue this conversation.”
I swallowed and nodded, though I’d be happy to never talk about it again.
“Tonight?” he asked. “Will you join me for dinner before you return to Town?”
Dinner together? My jaw went slack with surprise and I forced myself to respond. “I . . . yes. Thank you.”
“I will collect you after your lesson.”
Holy crap. All I could do was nod again, and then he left me standing there in shock with rows of Baelese children anxiously awaiting my instruction.