Page 48 of Fable for the End of the World

And that’s how I find myself saying, “Let’s make a deal.”

She arches a brow. “A deal?”

“Yes.” I draw a breath. “We find our way out of here... together. You keep us from getting torn to pieces by the Wends, and I make sure you don’t turn into one by eating the wrong meat. And then, once the cameras are back on...”

“The Gauntlet begins again?”

Melinoë watches me like a cat, wary. Cats are peculiar animals. Predators to mice, but prey to hawks. And they don’t do especially well with water.

“Yes.” My voice is scratchy and low. I clear my throat. Then, without wavering, I repeat, “Yes.”

And then, so she knows that I mean it, I lower the knife. I place it on the ground between us, equidistant from her reach and mine. I flex my fingers. It hurts to unclench them after being kept in a white-knuckled grip for so long.

Her eyes dart from the knife to me, then back again. I tense. She could grab it in an instant and have me pinned to the ground even faster, blade to my throat—

But she doesn’t. Instead, she raises her empty hand, fingers outstretched.

Slowly, I reach back. Our hands are almost the exact same size, and our fingers lace together easily.

“Deal,” she says quietly.

“Deal.” I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back.

Strangely, it makes me think of Jacob’s kiss. I was acutelyaware of how long it lasted, my stomach clenching as I waited for it to be over. Melinoë’s hand is warm and her grip is soft, but certain. Maybe it’s just hunger and exhaustion doing odd things to my brain, but I’m surprised by how much I don’t want her to let go.

Twenty

Melinoë

It’s done. I let go of Inesa’s hand, flexing my fingers. The agreementhas been made. Like signing a Caerus contract. Now we sit in silence, staring at each other guardedly. The knife and the gun still lie between us. My gaze skims over them, muscles itching to reach out.

“You should take it,” Inesa blurts. “The rifle, I mean. I don’t know how to use it.”

I nod, still wary. But if she really were planning to spring at me, she’s had plenty of better chances to do it. As I reach forward, I feel a prickling in my hand, my skin still humming with the memory of Inesa’s touch. The strange heat spreads, and I hope it doesn’t reach my face. I don’t need her to see me flush.

When I have the rifle in my grip, I’m overcome with relief. Just the smoothness of its barrel, the familiar weight, makes me feel like myself again. Well, like an Angel, at least.

Inesa isn’t stupid. As I was reaching for the rifle, she grabbed the knife, slipping it into the shaft of her boot. Mutual assureddestruction. It ended—tenuously—decades of war between New England and New Amsterdam, so maybe it will work for us, too.

I meet Inesa’s eyes, as if to ask,Now what?

She inhales. Then she pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dirt from her knees. “We should get walking, I guess. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’m fine.” I don’t mean for the words to sound cold, bitten-off, but it’s just instinct. I stand up, faltering a bit, which definitely undercuts my point.

Inesa’s gaze is concerned. It seems genuine, but I have to remember that it’s not concern for my well-being, not really. I’m a sentient weapon to her, just something to keep the Wends and the other dangers of the forest at bay. I should be used to it. I’m just a sentient weapon to Caerus, too.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Inesa asks, brow furrowing.

“Yes,” I say curtly.

She doesn’t look convinced. “It’ll help both of us if we can find a source of water. Unless you somehow have that in your suit, too.”

“No. But I have decon-tabs.” I feel a surge of unexpected bitterness toward Azrael. Why wouldn’t he at least supply me with clean water? And why was I too stupid to think of bringing it myself?

Because it was supposed to be easy. Because it was supposed to be over in a matter of hours.My gaze zeroes in on the bruises around Inesa’s throat. If I had only pressed down a little harder—

“That’s good,” Inesa says. “I think I know where to find something to drink.”

---