The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,83

of the stalks. It had to be her—the same dark hair, the same fine-boned face. My child. I wanted to climb down and swoop her up, tell her I was her mother, and that I loved her. Then, I’ll never forget, her foster mother came, calling her name. My daughter touched the woman’s face, searching it, feeling her smile . . . and I realized she couldn’t see. Somehow, my child had lost her sight.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“I was devastated. I couldn’t understand how my perfect, healthy baby became Sightless. Was it an illness? An accident? I went to our Council. I asked them to tell me the truth. And nothing was the same for me after that.”

I’m stunned. “I can’t believe it . . . you’re my mother?”

She cups my cheek in her hand. “Yes, love.” She speaks to me gently. “And, unfortunately, there’s more to tell you.”

My head swivels back and forth against her palm, before I realize I’m moving it. “I don’t want to know any more. This is enough. I’ve always wanted to know who my natural mother was, and now I do”

Kadee’s voice is gentle. “You need to know the rest and I need to tell you. Not to be cruel or spiteful, but because I won’t collude with lies anymore. I can’t. You’re almost an adult, and you need to hear this before you return home. You should know what they did to you.”

“What who did?”

“Your people.”

My stomach twists like a wrung-out rag. I feel sick. “What did they do?”

Kadee lays her hands across my eyes, and her voice breaks with a soft sob. “Blinded you. My baby girl. They took your sight.”

“They wouldn’t. Aloe wouldn’t let them.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment. “I’d like to think she didn’t have any part of it. After all, the same thing happened to her.”

“You mean . . . they blinded Aloe, too?”

“Do you think Sightlessness is so common that babies would be born without sight, generation after generation? If so, why aren’t any Lofties Sightless?”

I can barely catch my breath to speak. I’m breathing hard, and bile fills my mouth. “Why? Why would they do that to us?”

Kadee’s words are fissured with grief. “For the good of your community. So you could bear the water when you came of age. And I suppose they thought they were giving the gift of protection from the Scourge.”

“But why me?”

“Because you were a Lofty baby.” Her voice is suddenly hard, her meaning clear. No Groundling would destroy the sight of their own child.

I scramble around the tree and throw up the berry stick and what’s left of my breakfast. I wave Kadee away, but she won’t go. She holds my hair back from my face, rubs my back, and tells me how sorry she is. I stay on my hands and knees, panting and spitting, until my stomach is empty.

After a few minutes I crawl back and collapse against the tree again, my head in my hands. I feel like someone placed a rock on my shoulders that’s forcing me down, down, down into the ground. I don’t know if I can bear up under its weight.

“After I saw what they did to you, the idea of leaving the trees forever took hold of me,” Kadee says. “The Exchange was bad enough, but I couldn’t stay among people that allowed their children to be maimed, even for the good of all.”

I consider her words. What happened to me wasn’t Kadee’s fault any more than any other parent over the years that cooperated with the Exchange. But she could have said something about what she knew. Did Aloe know I would be blinded, and allow it to happen? Or even suspect? I’m not ready to deal with that possibility yet.

“Does Peree know you’re my . . . mother? Does Nerang?”

“Both Peree and Nerang know I had to give up a child, but neither know that child was you. When I saw how you and Peree felt about each other, I thought you might want to be the one to tell him.”

Peree and I aren’t related by blood, but the man and woman who raised him are my natural parents. That’s practically family. I think about telling him that, and my stomach twists again. “And Shrike?” I ask.

“He knows. He may have even asked Aloe to foster you. She wanted a child. I’ve often wondered if you were part of the reason Shrike wouldn’t