(Hidden Necromancer 02) The Accused Dead [A] Read online

  “This is all wrong!” Zellie exclaims.

  “This is wonderful,” I say in awe.

  “But this is against the Lost Texts! We’re supposed to live plainly!” Zellie stares aghast at our surroundings.

  “We did live plainly and it didn’t benefit us much. Now we live as we see fit,” Actura replies.

  Jane rests her hand on Zellie’s shoulder. “We find happiness and pleasure in life where we can find it. Don’t be afraid of finding your own.”

  “How is this allowed?” Zellie persists. The struggle to accept her fate and her horror at the flagrant disregard of the Lost Texts is plain on her face.

  “The Unclaimed police ourselves. That’s how it’s allowed,” Actura answers in a very no-nonsense tone. It’s easy to see why she’s in charge. “Follow me.”

  We ascend a wooden staircase with an engraved banister to the third floor. I run my fingers over the uneven texture. Some parts of the carvings are a little coarse. I’m impressed by the thought of one of the Unclaimed sitting for hours painstakingly whittling the flourishes into the wood.

  There at two wings to the house with long corridors stretching out from the staircase. The walls are painted a warm orange color and the doors are painted black. To my surprise, there are many.

  “Do all these doors go to bedrooms?” I ask.

  “When The Unclaimed first took over this building, they wanted us to sleep in huge dormitory rooms,” Actura explains. “The first women here didn’t like that much, so they learned how to build walls and install new doors. Now, all of us get a small room. You can decorate it however you like. The other women can show you how to dye your bedding and curtains. You can even make printed fabric for pillows.”

  “But...” Zellie doesn’t continue when she catches sight of a sketch of two naked women lounging under a willow tree taped to a bedroom door.

  Actura smirks at Zellie’s expression. “We don’t frown on self-expression here.”

  “This isn’t what I expected,” I admit. “I thought everything would be austere and regimented.”

  “At one time that was the rule, but what happens inside the Houses of the Unclaimed has changed over the decades,” Actura replies. “But what’s expected of us outside has remained the same.”

  Jane clasps her hands before her and looks very much like a teacher. “Most of the women in this house are close to your age. Wives don’t like younger women taking care of their children or living in their homes. So you will most likely be assigned to manual labor in the fields, gardens, or other approved business. You’ll get your assignment in about a week. The Elders allow the newly Unclaimed some time to adapt to their new position. So generous, aren’t they?”

  Jane and Actura laugh, but Zellie looks on the verge of tears again. I’m angry, frustrated, and resolved, but also very tired all at once. The day has been long and emotionally draining.

  “No one will expect anything from you today. It’s a shock to the system to be Unclaimed. You don’t have to meet the other women today. We can bring up your meals,” Actura continues. “Let’s go to your rooms.”

  I’m feeling rather bold nowadays, so I ask, “Where are the women who used to live in them?”

  Jane and Actura exchange pensive looks.

  It’s Jane who answers. “Sometimes, women leave.”

  “Go over the wall?” I say in surprise.

  “That’s one way,” Actura admits. “Others have their family pay for train fare to other settlements that don’t follow the Lost Texts so strictly or at all for a shot at finding a spouse there. Or they’re assigned to a family when they reach the age of thirty to serve as housemaids. Some grow sick and die.”

  “What if the woman’s family won’t pay for her to leave, but she wants to?” Zellie asks with a smidgen of hope in her voice.

  “That’s when they go over the wall,” Jane replies.

  “But they won’t survive!” Zellie’s expression probably matches my own.

  How could a regular young woman expect to survive in the Deadlands? I might be a necromancer, but I’m terrified of the thought of being on the other side of the wall. At this point, I really don’t have a choice. If I stay, I’m as good as dead anyway, but I can’t imagine being a regular girl and risking it.

  We stop at an open doorway.

  “Zellie, this is your room,” Actura says, clearly wanting a change in topic.

  The room is long and narrow with a single bed, wardrobe, and desk. The walls and furniture are painted white and match the bedding.

  “You can change the room when you feel up to it,” Actura says to Zellie.

  “I’d rather it’s plain. I believe in the Lost Texts,” she answers, her gaze accusatory.

  “You can join us for dinner downstairs in the seventh evening hour or we can bring you a tray.” Actura stares down at Zellie with a bland expression. I have an inkling she’s used to young women responding like Zellie.

  Zellie steps into her new room, looks about, and drops her bag on the floor. “I’ll take the tray.”

  “I’ll arrange it.” Actura gives the younger woman an encouraging smile.

  Without a word, Zellie shuts the door on us.

  With a sigh, Actura continues down the hall. “Some take it harder than others.”

  I follow with Jane at my side.

  “She’s not going to adapt very well,” Jane replies. “She was always a stickler for rules at school.”

  Staring at a painting of the goddess holding the world in her six hands, I understand Zellie’s confusion. It’s very evident that the Unclaimed do not adhere to the Lost Texts within the walls of their home. If I hadn’t already started to lose belief in the Lost Texts, I would be just like Zellie: confused, afraid, and mortified by the blatant breaking of rules.

  “Jane selected this room when we heard you were coming.” Actura motions to an open door. “The young woman who lived here recently left.”

  “You heard I was coming? How?”

  “A little bird told me,” Jane responds with a satisfied smile.

  “We hear all the latest news. People don’t really notice the Unclaimed,” Actura explains. “We often know what’s happening before the Elders. What do you think of the room?”

  The walls are azure with thick indigo curtains over the tall window. The bedding is dyed a light blue and the coverlet is embroidered to resemble the night sky.

  “This is so pretty.” I step inside and try to imagine my life here. “Where did the girl go who lived here?”

  “She left the Atonement Settlement for Bridgetown to live with her married sister,” Actura answers.

  “Bridgetown was overrun,” I say sadly.

  I hate to think of the former occupant of the room escaping only to die. Of course, that could be my fate if I’m not careful.

  Actura tucks her hands into her trouser pockets and nods. “We all hope she lived and is among the survivors at the Enclave, but we haven’t heard from her. She was a remarkable young woman and gifted artist. When she left here, she asked us not to repaint her room. She said all of this was for the Unclaimed who inherited the room and hoped it would cheer her up.”

  My heart is touched by a girl I’ve never met. “What’s her name?”

  “Ivona,” Actura answers.

  I repeat the name in my mind, memorizing it. I’m grateful to Ivona. The room does make me feel better. It’s so pretty and fanciful. I set my bag down on the wood floor and face the two women. “Thank you. This is very nice.”

  “Ilyse, I think you’ll do well here. I know you’re probably disappointed, but this may be for the best,” Jane says to me. “Your father might be more open to you going to the Academy now.”

  “Won’t he have to pay for me to be released from here?” I hadn’t considered that another option might be available other than escaping with Quade.

  “Yes, he would. Some families are reluctant to pay since they’ve lost the bridal bid and their finances have taken a hard hit,”
Actura says, “but some families want to give their daughters a second chance for a better life.”

  I hear the slight hesitation in her voice and the implication it holds.

  “But not many families do, right?” The thought of so many young women condemned to a life of servitude angers me more than I can express in words. “I don’t understand that. Why would they want us to be Unclaimed?”

  “The more devout are usually adverse to any alternatives to the path they see laid out for their daughters by the Three Gods,” Actura answers.

  Jane inclines her head in agreement. “The Lost Texts say every person has a role to play in society. The Unclaimed have an important role, too, according to the Elders.”

  “As slave labor,” I snap.

  “That’s certainly one way to see it,” Jane admits.

  “Free labor is always enticing to people in power.” Actura leans against the doorframe. She’s so tall I have to crane my head to view her somber face. “Being Unclaimed can be hard, but some of us have found good lives within the confines of this society. Matrons want nothing to do with Unclaimed unless we’re servants in their homes. That gives us much freedom within these walls.”

  “How? I don’t understand how the Elders allow it.”

  Jane and Actura glance at each other and share smirks.

  “Let’s put it this way,” Jane says, lowering her voice. “It works to the benefit of men for us to live freely in our homes.”

  “Not everyone is as pious as they claim,” Actura adds with a wink.

  My eyes widen at the implication.

  “Change out of your dress, Ilyse,” Jane says. “Freshen up. The bathrooms are down the hall. Your family will be here soon.”

  The two women leave and I shut the door so I can undress. Though I do like the room, I hope I won’t be here long. I set the bag on the chair near the desk. On impulse, I open the drawer. Inside are paper and pencils. A folded paper intrigues me, so I pick it up. Unfolding it, I read the short message.

  We all deserve to be free. Don’t give up. - Ivona

  I hope Ivona survived the Bridgetown slaughter.

  I wiggle out of my wedding gown, unpin the veil that served as an underskirt, and stare at the ivory heap on the floor. I’ll never wear it again and it feels like such a waste after all the effort Annah and my aunt put into it. I leave it on the floor and open my bag to pull out one of my day dresses. It feels much more comfortable than the opulent wedding dress.

  I find the bathrooms easily. There are two of them on opposite sides of the hallway. Both are large with plenty of bathing stalls along one wall and a bank of sinks on the other. Cupboards hold stacks of cotton towels of all sizes. I wash my face, unpin my hair, and rebraid it. It feels so strange that a whole day has passed.

  When I return to my room, I find Jane waiting for me.

  “You look much more relaxed,” she says with approval. “You looked so unhappy earlier.”

  “Do you know what they did to me at the Bridal Auction?”

  “I heard whispers that the matrons and bridesmaids wanted to sabotage you. When I saw the hem of your dress, I suspected they did.”

  “They sabotaged everything. Even over-peppered my stew.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ilyse.”

  “I’m not safe here, Jane,” I say in a whisper. “I heard men talking about dealing with me. Even though I passed the test, some people think I’m guilty.”

  Pressing her lips together, Jane nods.

  “You have to help me escape.”

  “I’m going to try. I’ll speak to your father about you going to the Academy.”

  “And if that fails?”

  Jane’s face loses some color. “We’ll find a way, Ilyse.”

  Voices down the hall silence our conversation. Together, we hurry to the bottom floor. Jane guides me down a long hallway to a very plain shorter one with white walls and flooring. There are two long wooden benches on either side of the hallway, and Zellie is already seated on one. Looking completely morose, she stares at her clasped hands with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  I’m surprised to see Actura dressed in the plain drab clothing of the Unclaimed and her hair pinned in a severe bun. She stands next to a doorway clearly waiting for me.

  “We must keep up appearances,” she says when she sees my expression. “Since there are only two Unclaimed today, you’ll get a little more time with your family if that’s what you want.” Actura holds out a plain cotton bag. “Draw a token.”

  I reach in and feel a bunch of wooden coins inside. I draw one out and read what’s printed on it. “Seven.”

  “Zellie, you’re next.”

  With sluggish movements, Zellie also draws a token. “Four.”

  “Zellie will go first since she drew the lower number.” Actura reclaims the coins and sets the bag on a small shelf on one wall. Opening the door next to her, she motions for Zellie to enter. Once the sullen girl enters, she follows.

  I take a seat on one of the hard benches and Jane joins me.

  “A chaperone always goes inside with the girls. As a moderator between the family and the Unclaimed. Emotions are heightened on days like today.”

  “I hate all of this,” I mutter.

  “I know. When I used to believe in a more conservative interpretation of the Lost Texts, I couldn’t imagine another way of life. Traveling to other settlements and experiencing new ways of living opened my eyes. It made me see that the Lost Texts have been twisted to keep certain elements in power.”

  “Men.”

  “Women, too, Ilyse. Women are complicit in what’s happening. Matrons wield more power than you realize. They pay a price but they do have power.”

  “Which can be taken from them if their husbands dismiss them for a younger woman.”

  “The truly clever ones find ways to keep that from happening,” Jane replies. “But you’re right. They’re more vulnerable than the Elders.”

  “At least there is hope out in the world to live a better life,” I say with a sigh.

  “It’s not perfect out there, Ilyse. Things are difficult everywhere with the Unblessed wandering the earth. Walls fall. People die. But there is more freedom for women among some of the communities.”

  “But not all?”

  “No, not all, but I believe you will do well in The Republic. I really do.”

  We lapse into silence. There’s nothing more to say at the moment anyway. The time for plans will come later.

  I hope Quade can find a way to communicate with me. It’s hard not to think of him without remembering our kiss. I blush at the thought of his lips on mine. I yearn to feel the thrill that came with the kiss again, but I’m not even sure why. Is it lust? Love? Infatuation? Or just a natural response to being touched by a man? I feel so frustrated by my naiveté.

  To make matters even more vexing, my feelings about visiting with my father are very mixed. I love him, but I’m not sure how he’ll react to the events of today. Especially because I kissed Quade in front of him.

  It’s hard not to second guess everything I’ve done since the night the first Beloved Undead appeared in my garden. I’ve made so many mistakes and my life has fallen apart. A piece of me believes I can survive, but every day that passes seems to bring new challenges that make my chances seem slim.

  When Zellie emerges from the room, she’s sobbing so violently Actura is practically carrying her. The tall woman ushers the young woman away, leaving me with Jane. I clench my hands in an attempt to keep them from trembling, but it doesn’t really work. The enormity of my situation crushes me whenever I dare think about it.

  When Jane stands, I do, too. Nervous, I follow her to the door.

  “Follow my lead when I talk to your father about you attending the Academy in The Republic,” she says.

  If I can go to The Republic, I won’t refuse it. Once I’m there and safe, I can take the time to decide what to do next. I hope Quade will travel with me and help me understand the full
extent of my powers. It would also give me time to sort out my feelings for him. If there can be an easy way out of this without me going over the wall, I will take it. Feeling a little bit of hope, I nod my head.

  Jane smiles, opens the door, and hesitates with a surprised look on her face.

  Curious, I peer inside.

  Inside the small white room with bare walls, there is a sturdy wood table and chairs on either side. A door to the outside is guarded by a warden to keep families from trying to kidnap their Unclaimed daughters, which has happened in the past.

  “Please bring in the Notts,” Jane says.

  “There’s no one waiting to meet with the Unclaimed,” the warden answers.

  “Where are they?” Jane asks.

  I already know the answer.

  My father isn’t coming.

  I’ve been disowned.

  .

  CHAPTER 6

  Stars, Fire, and Promises

  All my worst fears are coming true. Lying on the bed in my new room, staring at the stars painted on the ceiling, I have never felt so alone. I don’t feel angry, hurt, or sad, but empty. It’s like all my emotions, the good and bad, have been drained out of me, and now I’m hollow.

  Maybe because I expected my father to disown me at some point like he’d done with Angelina, his abandonment doesn’t hurt as much. Before my life started to fall apart, I would have been devastated by his refusal to see me. Perhaps I’m still in shock and the reality of his rejection hasn’t fully registered in my weary mind. That would explain why I feel so empty.

  I wish I could cry.

  Instead, I stare at the stars on the ceiling, admiring the artistry. I’m beginning to see the appeal of artwork. I don’t understand why the Lost Texts is against it. How can it be wrong to find comfort in someone’s artistry? I appreciate how much work was put into its creation. It’s oddly comforting to scrutinize all the little details that make up the painted night sky.

  The room feels like a safe haven, but I know that’s a lie. Outside the walls enclosing the House of the Unclaimed are men who want to burn me at the stake. I can’t let myself become complacent no matter how comforting my surroundings are.