Page 59 of This Vicious Hunger
I freeze. I fought my whole life to escape my cage, and now Olea wants me to share hers.
“I can’t,” I say. “I’m not—”
“You’re already here,” she says sleepily. “The garden welcomes you back. It needs you. You can help me, while I recover…”
I can’t fight the shaking fear that grows in me like a seed, shoots of panic unfurling.Stay, whispers one part of my mind.You liked it here, when this place was yours too. This cage is not a cage like Aurelio’s. It is books and learning and knowledge—and Olea.But if I stay, I can’t continue my research. I’d be choosing the garden over Petaccia’s life’s work—a chance for it to becomemylife’s work—and Olea’s potential cure. And how do I know I won’t get so sick that the garden takes me to death’s door and beyond?But. Olea.
A golden cage, perhaps, but it isstilla cage.
“No,” I say. The word comes out cold and unfeeling, and Olea blinks, suddenly alert. “I’ll stay until supper but not beyond that.”
“Please,” she begs. “I can’t bear it if you leave.”
I hesitate. The old Thora would have done as she was asked. She would succumb to Olea’s begging, glad for scraps of love. Stay, wrapped in the safety of this barbed paradise. It was how I ended up in Aurelio’s home, as his wife. I think of the way Olea saidYou’re my only choice. Maybe she loves me—I’m sure she does—but I will not be caged.
I am not that woman any more.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m sorry, but I won’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Iwait to head to the dining hall until fifteen minutes before it closes. My plan is to load my pockets and my napkin with food again, to keep enough stocked up that I can avoid it, and Leo’s company, until I’m ready to face him. It doesn’t work out quite that way.
The scent of fried onions and juicy steak makes my mouth water fiercely; I fight with one of the servers to get seated so late and manage to eat my way through two steaks in less than five minutes. I wash it all down with near enough a whole bottle of syrupy red wine, relishing the prickling sensation as my limbs begin to relax. I should keep a clear head, Ishould, but… why? I’m not going back to the garden tonight, and the dark emptiness of my rooms, suddenly silent after Olea’s departure, fills me with dread.
When I stumble back out into the night with my napkins loaded with more bread and cheese, I am lightheaded, woozy. The air is as syrupy as the wine and swirls around me. I am queasy, and I am exhausted, and I am still so goddamnhungry. I’ve been with Olea too much, in the garden for too many hours. I should never have taken my mask off, I should have taken her back sooner, I—
“Thora…?”
I slam to a stop as I collide with something—no, someone. Blearily I peer up and—
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. Then I try to at least pretend I’m pleased to see him. “Leo. Hi.”
“Are you all right? What are you doing out here so late? I thought you were working, but—are youdrunk?” Leo peers at me from behind his spectacles; they reflect the lamplight in streaks of yellow and the effect is disconcerting. I can’t quite see his eyes, though I can tell from the shape of his mouth that he is frowning. I step back, clutching my bundle of food to my chest.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I say, slurring slightly. Leo says nothing, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing this way and that. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” I add. “It’s l—”
“No.” Leo snatches for my elbow. I let out a surprised hiss and he yanks his hand back. “I’m sorry, sorry. I just— Can we talk? Please? You’re avoiding me again.”
I hesitate, but Leo takes another small step back into the shadow of the dining hall. A gesture of trust. Of apology. I feel myself melt. Outside the glare of the lamp I can see better, see the concern etched into Leo’s forehead, the lines around his mouth.
I haven’t seen him since Olea’s admission, and now all I can think of is Clara, buried in the garden’s loamy earth. Leo doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He—
“I’ve hardly seen you,” he says, interrupting my spiralling thoughts. “I know you said you were busy with Petaccia. But…”
“But…?”
He leans in, his voice low. “Does she have something on you? Is that why you keep sneaking off there?”
My heart skips, blood roaring in my ears. “Excuse me? Who?”
“Petaccia’s ward,” he says, urgent now. “Does she have some hold on you, something worth throwing it all away? Are you in some kind of trouble? Because whatever it is, I can help.”
“Leo, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. My voice comes out shaky and uneven.
“Come off it, Thora. I might be naive but I wasn’t born yesterday. You say you’re working late in the lab, but twice I’ve been by La Vita this last week and it’s still and silent as a sepulchre. Have you been going back to the garden?”
“Were youspyingon me?” I say incredulously. “Leo, Petaccia has me in the lab all different hours. I’m working on really important hypotheses. Groundbreaking ones. It’s science that could change everything. What’s it to you how I spend my time?”
