All the Truth That's in Me by Julie Berry Read Free Book Online Page B

gorge, his clothing singed and spotted. He’s whole, intact, and for a moment I can’t make out what’s wrong, until I see strands of smoke rising from his boot.
    I hook my arms beneath his shoulders and pull him far back from the battle, under the shelter of a willow tree. He is solid but I am strong.
    “Thanks, mate,” he says, whimpering.
    I drop him and show myself. His shocked expression reminds me of yours, a moment ago.
“Worm!”
Ah. Nothing changes Darrel.
I kneel by his feet and worry the boot off. Half of it is clean gone, and the inner curve of his foot is drenched in red. I suck in my breath, trying not to frighten him. With his boot and stocking off, it looks like something has taken a bite out of his inner foot. The heel and toes are there, but the bone between the ankle and large toe is bare and weeping blood.
I’ve seen animals butchered. I’ve seen abscesses lanced and other gruesome sights. But never my baby brother’s own pink flesh.
I raise his leg and wrap my apron tightly around the wound. He gasps in pain.
If Mother were here, she’d be in a state.
I try to imagine how this could have happened. How cannon fire from the riverbed, or even the soldiers who’ve scaled the wall, could have shot him in this way. It makes no sense.
He lies crying on his back, staring up into the sky. Of course! Poor idiot. He shot himself.
I bite my lips. There’s no laughing at his white bones. But oh, the foolish soldier boy.
Tears roll out his eye sockets and drip into his ears.
His foot bound fast and propped high on a rock, I move behind him and lift his head into my lap. He turns and buries his face against my knee. I try my best to murmur comforting sounds from within my throat. A hiss through my lips resembles the shushing sound I made when I rocked him as a baby.
With Darrel, nothing changes.
    LXXXVI.
    We sit, watching the battle from afar, like poor children watching a party at a rich man’s house across a pond. It has nothing to do with us, so we feast upon the spectacle. The sun sets, and the glorious sky purples off over the ocean that brought these ships on her bosom. The prize land toward the west that the homelanders dream of subduing is saffron gold. Fireflies wink around us, just like the incendiaries that burn red and snuff out.
    The night grows chill. We huddle together for warmth. Darrel quivers with pain that won’t let him sleep. He squeezes my hand so tightly, my fingertips turn white. He doesn’t speak.
    Neither do I.
    LXXXVII.
    How can this battle have lasted so long? What has become of you and of the colonel? Should I begin to hope? Against all odds, our puny few have lasted this long, apparently without my help. Could I not have gone to the colonel? Bitter, bitter thought.
    Do I intend to keep my promise? Am I a wife indeed? Do I owe my old jailer anything?
It was your idea, Lucas, to engage them here by the gorge, I think. You wore the colonel’s mantle well. If you survive this day, your place in the village will be made sure, all former taint from him erased.
You’ll be farther from me than ever, if unreachable wasn’t already far enough.
And I’ll be in a hut in the woods. Unless I want another tragedy on my soul. I remember his threats.
All for nothing, then, and no one to mourn me. The village won’t even count it a price paid. Nothing for nothing is fair barter, at least.
No laces, no feast for this bride.
    LXXXVIII.
    Only the faintest trace of twilight left in the sky. Darrel sleeps now. I no longer have to hide the pleasure I feel at the warmth of his body near mine. It’s a cold world when no one will touch you.
    My father used to hold me on his lap in the evenings. I loved the sweaty, woodsy smell of him. He never knew me as I am now. In my memory, he is ever warm, alert, interested in what I have to say. In my memory I can speak to him, sing him my little-girl songs.

LXXXIX.
    You run along the bank, waving your arms and shouting, “Fall back! Fall back!”
    I jump.