Flora's Dare: How a Girl of Spirit Gambles All to Expand Her Vocabulary, Confront a Bouncing Boy Terror, and Try to Save Califa from a Shaky Doom (Despite Being Confined to Her Room) by Ysabeau S. Wilce Read Free Book Online Page B

stunted.”
    Again, I ignored the slur. That’s one of Idden’s tricks, to deflect you from topics she doesn’t want to discuss—try to rile you with unflattering personal observations and stupid nicknames. I refused to be deflected.
    “You never answered me.”
    Idden gave me a superior little smile that I knew only too well. “Because I’d had it, Flora. I’ve been pushed around long enough. I’m sick of Buck, sick of the Army.”
    “Why didn’t you just resign? That would be better than running away.”
    She snorted. “Ha! Do you think for one minute that Mamma would let me resign? She’d never accept my resignation—I had to get out without her knowing. And anyway, I don’t recognize the Warlord’s authority anymore, so I consider my oath to him null. He’s a Birdie puppet, Flora. Obeying him is like obeying the Virreina of Huitzil. He has got to go, and all his lackeys, too. Collaborators all, even Buck.”
    “Mamma is not a collaborator! She’s just trying to keep Califa safe.”
    Idden looked scornful. “Safe for what? Safe for whom? Safe for the rich and the powerful? What about everyone else? Slaves—one and all. First slaves to the Warlord, who sold them to the Birdies, now slaves to them, too. Safety in slavery isn’t worth having.”
    I’d never heard Idden this worked up about anything before. She’d always been mild as milk toast and done exactly as Mamma had said. Not only done it, but acted as though Mamma’s Will was hers as well, that their desires were exactly the same. Maybe Idden had gone mad. Maybe she had Army Green Sickness—it happens to people who spend too much time in too isolated a post. They start imagining things, and become paranoid, and then nostalgic, and eventually have to be taken away to the Califa Asylum for the Unfortunate and Lost. Mamma could hardly be mad at Idden for being insane, could she?
    Idden continued, “My duty to Califa is higher than my duty to the Birdies’ puppet. I am loyal to Califa and those who died for her—like Azota Brakespeare!”
    “But she was a murderer and a war criminal,” I protested. “And she almost got Poppy killed.”
    Something flared in Idden’s eyes and she pinched me hard. “Birdie lies! They made her out to be a criminal so they could get rid of her. I knew her, Flora, and she was nothing as they say She loved Califa, and she died trying to keep Califa free. Mark me, Flora. Change is coming. The tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants.”
    “What does that mean?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
    “It means, Flora, that there comes a time when we have to decide either to risk death for freedom, or to live as slaves. I have made my decision; that’s why I joined Firemonkey’s band. Califa must be free.”
    “But, Idden—”
    The shouting and screaming outside had gotten louder, and now people were pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. It did not seem a good idea to open the door, but the only other exit was a small window high on the back wall.
    Idden cut me off. “Look, I don’t have time to argue with you now. We have got to get out of here. The militia will be here any minute, and neither of us wants to end up in gaol. Come on.”
    “But we’re trapped!”
    “You’ll see—come on.” Idden unbuttoned her duster and drew her service revolver. “Fire in the hole, Tinks.”
    I covered my ears just in time; she fired twice, the shots echoing explosively. I ducked my head, barely avoiding a face full of flying debris, and when I looked back up, the small window gaped open, and my ears rang. The acrid smell of black powder was choking.
    “Ayah, Tinks, this is where you get off. But first, Flora, swear you will not tell Buck that you saw me.”
    I saw the grab coming and tried to dodge, but Idden was quick, and she’s much taller than me. Despite my kicks, Idden got me into a headlock from which I could do nothing but spit ineffectually.
    “Swear it, Flora!”
    Nini Mo