Taken (Erin Bowman)

not think the Order would have engineered such a rash Forgery,” he says. “Forgeries are far more reserved. They are so plain that you overlook them. But this boy is emotional. The rage in this one, the anger, the bitterness, the fire—that is real. That is what is left of a Heisted boy, a life plucked from one world and thrown without background into another. I vote mercy in this case. I vote yea.”
    Fallyn slams her fists on the table. “If you’re wrong, Ryder, the blood is on your hands.” She storms from the room. Elijah follows her, knocking his chair over as he leaves.
    “You’ll pardon Elijah and Fallyn,” Ryder says, removing the rope that bound me to my seat. “They’re only trying to protect our people.”
    I scoff at this and Raid whispers something to my father before skirting after the others.
    “Well, that about does it,” Ryder says. “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you have plenty of catching up to do.”
    “What about the truth?” I call out to him.
    “Oh, we’ll get to that eventually. You need to clean up first. Eat.”
    “But . . . you said . . .”
    “I promised you answers, Gray, but I did not say they would be instantaneous, nor did I say they would come directly from me. Talk to your father. Get to know him. Visit your brother in the hospital. These things should be more important anyway.” And with his carefully formulated wave of guilt working over me, Ryder, too, exits.
    My father shows me to my room. I’m lost immediately, overwhelmed by the various tunnels and burrows that snake off the main valley area he refers to as the Basin. Each passageway looks the same, each turn identical, but he promises I will pick it up in time.
    I want to ask him about Harvey, about the Laicos Project and why the Rebels are working alongside a monster, but the details don’t add up. Word in Taem was that Harvey was gathering followers, and yet, I haven’t seen him once since arriving, not even at my vote, which seemed to include influential Rebels. Maybe Frank’s records are wrong and Harvey’s not in charge. Maybe Harvey isn’t even here at all.
    Pushing the questions aside, I tell my father about my journey. I start with the letter I found and climbing the Wall. I tell him about Emma and her jail cell and my ordered execution. He is silent until we reach my room, a tiny thing set in the middle of a tunnel that looks like all the rest. There’s a simple cot and a dresser and a painting on the wall that shows sunshine and blue skies in the way a windowless room within rock never could.
    “Your mother, Sara. How is she?” he asks. I pause, unsure how to tell him. He’s practically a stranger, and yet I know it should be personal, delivered softly and with care. I think my silence says enough.
    “No,” he mutters in disbelief. “When?”
    “We were fifteen. Pneumonia. Carter tried everything, but she couldn’t save her.”
    I watch as a thin sheet of water builds in his eyes. He so clearly loved her. It makes me wonder if he hated the slatings the same way I do, if he ever murmured that word to my mother despite its weight.
    “Blaine’s a father,” I say, desperately trying to distract him from the oncoming tears. “Her name’s Kale, and she’s the cutest thing there is. Not even three yet.”
    He sits on the edge of my cot and runs a hand through his hair exactly as I do when I’m anxious. “I barely got to be a father myself,” he says. “I can’t imagine being a grandfather as well.”
    It’s odd to see him lost. I guess I always figured a parent should have all the answers. When I got hurt as a child I ran to Ma. When I needed comfort or advice, she always had both. To see my father confused and conflicted is somewhat startling. He shakes whatever parental concerns he’s dealing with aside and looks back up at me.
    “I’m assuming you know about Sara’s experiment,” he says. “It’s why you climbed, right?”
    I nod.
    “I was seventeen when she had the two of you. I came to see her that day after I finished hunting—because we’d agreed to continue slatings together—and you were both there, bundled up on her lap. She pulled me to her side and told me you didn’t exist. Blaine, yes; but you, Gray, you were a ghost. With the exception of Carter and me, no one was to know that you had even been born, at least not until the following year. It was Sara’s way of challenging the home she could never accept.
    “You have to understand