Devrim's Discipline - Brianna Hale Page 0,39

might not be alone together again for days. Just fifteen minutes. We can enjoy ourselves for fifteen minutes.

“Oh, the book,” I say. “Mama will be delighted.”

We turn toward the house, walking side-by-side, but three feet apart. The flags of the stone path are arranged, in such a way, that they look like hopscotch. Because the day is so lovely, I hop into a square. The old jumping rhyme from the slums comes back to me, and I sing it under my breath as I hop.

“Down in the valley where the green grass grows, there sat Aimee, sweet as a rose. Along came Gunvald and he kissed her thrice. He shot himself once and he shot Aimee twice.”

I realize Devrim has stopped walking, and when I turn around, I see that he’s turned chalk white. His eyes are suddenly blacker and more haunted than I’ve ever seen them.

The smile drains from my face. “Dev—Your Grace. What’s wrong?”

He seems to be having trouble getting the words out. “What did you just say?”

“I asked if you were all right. Do you need to sit down? There’s a bench over here.”

I try to take his arm, but he shakes me off. “No. Those names. Whose names did you say?”

“Gunvald and Aimee.” I stare at him in confusion. “It’s just a skipping song that I learned as a little girl. Everyone used to sing it. Not that we were supposed to, but…” I realize I’m rambling and stop talking. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He passes a shaky hand over his face. A cold sweat has broken out on his brow. “I’m fine. You should go.”

He’s far from fine. He looks like he’s been informed of a death in the family or seen a ghost. I watch him, silently, for several minutes, hoping he’ll pull himself out of whatever dark thoughts have overwhelmed him.

I reach for his hand and try and coax him toward the house. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this. Let’s go inside and have tea.”

He rounds on me angrily. “I said, I’m fine. Can’t you just go?”

I reel back as if he’s struck me. Even in his most furious moments, he’s never shouted at me. Before I can say another word, he marches toward the house and disappears through the French doors.

I stand on the path, shocked and confused. When I enter the house, I see no one as I head for the front door and let myself out.

All the way home, I go over and over our conversation together, but I don’t understand what happened.

Mama has made soup and potato dumplings for dinner, one of my favorite meals, but I can’t make myself eat much. Perhaps something upset Devrim at the palace? But that can’t be it. He was his normal self until I sang that rhyme.

“Mama, do you remember that skipping song we used to sing as children?” I recite it for her, watching her face, carefully, for any of the horror I saw in Devrim’s.

Mama breaks up a potato dumpling with her spoon. “Yes, I remember. That woman next door wanted to strike your legs with a wooden spoon when she heard you singing it. I told her that if she touched my daughter, I’d have her arrested.”

That woman next door was a crabby old lady who passed away seven years ago. She had far more than the requisite number of pictures of Chairman Varga on her walls and would weep happy tears when the parade passed by to celebrate the anniversary of the Midsummer Riots. I can’t imagine what she and Devrim could have in common.

“Why did she want to hit me? I never understood why people were so afraid of that song.”

“Because it’s about Gunvald Lungren,” she says, and puts a spoonful of dumpling in her mouth.

“Who?”

Mama watches me as she chews, and then swallows. “You must have heard about him. Gunvald Lungren, the Chairman’s Hammer. Didn’t they teach you in school? He died before you were born, but he was a People’s Republic hero.”

The title “Chairman’s Hammer” rings a bell, though the name Gunvald Lungren doesn’t. I didn’t like school. The teachers hated me, and everyone was always horrible to me because of who I was.

Mama suddenly sits up in horror. “Why are you asking? You didn’t sing it, did you? Heaven’s above, if anyone heard you—”

Before she can work herself up into a state, I lie through my teeth. “Mama, calm down. The rhyme came up in conversation, and I realized I didn’t