Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,162

was out of her mouth, she realized how ignorant and stupide it sounded, yet it was the only question that seemed to come to her mind.

“So they have somewhere to live,” Astra said. “Come over here. You can sit with me and watch.”

Numbly, Chatine allowed Astra to guide her to a small area set up on the sidelines of the construction zone where the rest of the young children were gathered. But they weren’t sitting in the chairs that had been set out. They were all on their feet singing and laughing and some even danced with each other. Chatine not only felt out of place in this festive energy, she felt like she’d crash-landed on the wrong planet.

Astra climbed into one of the chairs, and Chatine took the seat next to her. All Chatine could do was stare in wonderment at the new chalet rising up in front of her very eyes. Despite the chaotic noise, the whole operation looked surprisingly organized. And just like Astra had said, everyone seemed to have a job. Chatine had never witnessed anything so … She struggled to even think of the right word.

Collaborative.

Among the crew of hardworking men and women, Chatine spotted Etienne soldering a complicated corner joint onto the chalet’s frame. He caught her eye, smirked, and then looked at Astra beside her and mouthed the words, “Good job.” Astra giggled.

Chatine felt heat rise up inside of her. She didn’t like being colluded against, and she definitely didn’t like losing. She was about to get right back up and return to the treatment center—she’d come, she’d seen, she’d participated—but just then, a young woman came rushing up to her with a squirming baby in her hands and deposited the infant right into Chatine’s lap.

“Oh, thank the Sols, you’re here,” the woman said hurriedly, “I have to work on the roof, and wiggly little Mercure here wiggled right out of his sling.”

Chatine opened her mouth to protest, but the woman was already gone.

And now there was a baby on her lap.

A baby.

A baby that was heavy and drooling and definitely not hers. She hoisted it out in front of her like it was a batch of rotten eggs she didn’t want to get too close to for fear of the smell.

The baby—Mercure—was dressed in a shimmering silver, one-piece outfit that seemed to be made of the same material as Chatine’s coat. A single dark curl sprang out from underneath his puffy hood. Chatine stared at the infant, shocked and incredulous. He stared back, looking equally shocked and incredulous, his huge dark eyes open wide.

Then he began to cry.

No, not just cry. Wail. A piercing, shrieking, earsplitting wail. The sound—Chatine was certain—was louder than the construction noise. An impressive feat for something so tiny.

“What is happening?” Chatine asked to no one in particular. She still held the child at arm’s length as it howled and squirmed in her hands.

“Make him stop crying,” Astra replied, as though this were the easiest, simplest feat in the world and why hadn’t Chatine thought of it?

“What?” Chatine shouted over the noise. “I don’t know how to do that. This is not my baby!”

“So?”

“So?” Chatine repeated, frustrated. “Why would that woman just dump a baby on me that’s not mine? And then expect me to shut it up?”

Astra gave Chatine a very strange look. As though Chatine were speaking with words too complex for her little four-year-old brain to comprehend. “Babies are everyone’s,” Astra finally said.

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are.”

Chatine huffed. “No, they’re not!” she shouted, which only made the baby startle and then scream louder. Chatine didn’t even realize that was possible. How many more levels did this thing have?

All the small children had stopped dancing and singing, and were now just standing there, staring at her.

“Why are you holding him like that?” one of the boys asked. It was Perseus.

“How am I supposed to hold him?” Chatine fired back.

“Not like that,” Perseus replied unhelpfully. “Don’t you know how to hold a baby?”

No, Chatine thought. She did not hold babies. She did not associate with babies. Not anymore.

Gruffly, she stood up, keeping the crying infant extended out in front of her as she scanned the construction site for the child’s mother. She spotted her high up on the chalet frame, affixing a rafter for the flat roof. Chatine sighed and searched for another capable-looking adult or older child, but they were all occupied in the building of the chalet. With the frame now almost complete, people were