“Are you?” I asked.

  “No.” He slammed my arm with a laugh. “I won’t have to when I win Wilma in a few weeks, will I?”

  “See, one less competitor for Tamara,” my dad pointed out but we both knew Cam’s chances of winning Wilma were slim. Only one out of fifty thousand men in this country would marry a woman in their lifetime and there were many warriors stronger than Cameron.

  “I’m not trying to be a pain here, but I want all my children to be blessed in the same way your mother and I have been. To have a family and children of your own is a fantasy for most men, but we could help you raise the money you need to enter the tournament and you’ve already proven that you can fight your way to becoming one of the five champions.”

  I was quiet, so he continued with another argument I’d heard a hundred times before.

  “It’s been three years since Starr’s tournament and by the time we reach Tamara’s tournament next year, you’ll be thirty. Your time is running out, son.”

  “I said I’ll think about it.”

  “But why? What is there to think about? Most of the fighters have never met a woman in their lives and that gives you a huge advantage when you stand in front of Tamara. She’ll know that you’ve been raised by a mother and that you have sisters. You’re as rare as she is, almost.”

  “She’s a spoiled girl,” I muttered low and kicked at some gravel on the ground. I had met Tamara a few months ago when she had just turned fourteen, and from the way she spoke to and about people, I’d found her insufferable.”

  Cameron leaned in. “What was that?”

  “I’ve met her and she didn’t seem very nice.”

  My father and Cameron exchanged a glance and my dad raised his hand as to gesture, I’ve got this.

  “She’s young and she’ll need a strong man to help her find her role as a good wife. I would have thought someone like you would be up for that challenge.”

  “That’s right. A few good spankings to let her know you’re the boss.” Cameron was finding this conversation amusing but I didn’t.

  “Is that what you plan to do to Wilma if you win her?” I took a step closer and narrowed my eyes.

  “Relax, son. It’s normal for a husband and wife to have to smooth things out between them. I had to demand respect when I won your mother. Women of the North are strong and they don’t want weak husbands.”

  “I know that. It’s just that the thought of anyone laying a hand on Wilma bothers me. I don’t want her ending up like Marni.”

  My dad gave a single nod and sighed. “No, we don’t want that.”

  Marni was only eleven months older than me and growing up she’d been charming and cheeky. Now, she was defensive and bitter, and her sense of humor was almost gone.

  “It’s like for every year she’s married to Henry, her spirit breaks a little more.”

  “I know.” My dad’s chest rose and fell with another sigh.

  “Wait, is Henry beating Marni?” Cameron’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me? We should fucking kill him if he’s abusive.”

  “It’s not that kind of abuse,” I muttered. “There are no bruises or cuts. If there were, we would have taken care of him long ago.”

  “Henry is more subtle and refined in his way of controlling Marni,” my dad added. “The problem is that we can’t get her to talk to us about it. And without any information, we can’t help her.”

  Cameron shifted his balance and groaned. “Argh, it’s not fair that men like him should be blessed with a wife. Why the fuck did she pick him anyway?”

  I shrugged. “I once asked her that and she said that he had a nice smile.”

  Cameron scratched his neck. “Maybe it would be better if the brides got a chance to get to know the five champions before they made a choice between them.”

  “At least they have five to pick from. Did you know that at the first tournaments, there was only one winner and he got the bride?”

  Cameron stared at my dad. “She didn’t have any say in it?”

  “None. As a father of three daughters, I’m pleased that those days are in the past.”

  “It’s all because of that stupid wall.” I threw my head in the direction of south. “There’s millions of women on that side and we’re killing each other for the few we have. That’s fucked up.”

  “Yeah, well, would you rather be ruled by women and give up your manhood? They castrate men on that side of the border,” my dad reminded me.

  “No, of course not! I’m proud to be a free man, but…” I scrunched up my face. “It’s been almost two hundred years since that border was established. Why can’t we break it down and take back power? Why should the women get all of the world while we only get the North?”

  “Yeah.” Cameron nodded his head in support and then his eyes grew large when he focused in on something behind me. I spun around to see Wilma watching us with a funny look on her face.

  “Are you talking about breaking down the wall?”

  Cameron gave a nervous laugh. “It was just a joke.”

  “That’s disappointing.” She moved closer to Cameron, who straightened up and pushed his chest out, and then she turned her back on him to face us. “I would love to see what’s on the other side.”

  The way he leaned forward, as if he wanted to get closer and smell her hair, had both my dad and me sending out warning sounds. No one touched a woman except for her family members, protector, or other women. Cam was none of those things to Wilma and we were reminding him to keep his distance.

  Wilma twisted her neck to look at him standing behind her. “What did you do?”

  Both his hands flew up in the air. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

  I almost did a double take when my sister gave Cameron a flirtatious smile. She wasn’t a little girl any longer, but it was hard for me to always remember that when she was still acting like a petulant child around me.

  “Cameron, would you do me a favor, please?” Her eyes dropped to the bottle in her hands and I knew that she was going to ask him to throw it over the border for her.

  “I’ll do it.” In two decisive steps, I was close enough to snatch the bottle from her. This was my thing. I threw it over the wall and I got to read the letters from Devina.

  “Hang on. I’m always happy to help,” Cameron piped up but I was already walking away from them.

  “Where is he going? What’s in that bottle?” my dad asked behind me.

  “It’s just some seeds she wants me to plant, but I’ve got it.” I shot her a glance over my shoulder with a silent message to keep her mouth shut. To my relief, she understood.

  “That’s right.” The rest of Wilma’s words were lost to me since I was moving fast through the garden to the hole in the hedge that led to the green belt in the back of our property. It was only a five-minute walk before I reached the spot where I always threw from. Opening the bottle, I pulled out Wilma’s letter and skimmed it over.

  Dear Devina,

  I think it’s the most amazing idea for you to write a book about me. Promise that you’ll throw a copy over the wall so I can read it when it’s done. I can’t believe people will know my name in the Motherlands.

  There are so many things I want to tell you about myself but let me start with the questions you asked. I’m sending you a map of our area, a floor plan of our house, and a picture of my room. The painting above my bed was a gift from my sister Claire, who painted it herself. I love the orange and blue colors of the bird. It’s from a children’s book that she used to read to me when I was little. The bird is called a phoenix and according to the book it can regenerate by literally bursting into flames and being reborn from the ashes. Isn’t that amazing?

  Do you have them in the Motherlands? I’m hoping the phoenix isn’t extinct like so many other animal species that disappeared after the Toxic War.

  To answer your question about Tyton, let me just tell you that I have two brothers. Tyton is the oldest at twenty-nine and then there’s Frederick, who is twenty-seven and married. Last month he and his wife Starr told us she’s pregnant with their second child. We’re all hoping that this time it’ll be a girl. Whenever a girl is born here in the Northlands, it’s shared on the news. That’s how rare it is.

  My sister Marni is thirty years old and she has four rowdy boys. Claire is twenty-three but she doesn’t have any children yet. I hope I’ll be blessed with many daughters when it’s my time to become a mother.

  I read the rest of the letter, but Wilma hadn’t answered Devina’s question about how I treated her. Studying her floor plan of our house, I frowned. It wasn’t very good. For one, the proportions were all wrong. According to her floor plan, her bathroom and bedroom were the same size, which wasn’t right. She had also left out the numbers of floors, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like any of the readers of Devina’s book would come by to fact-check the floor plan.

  I held the family photo that Wilma had enclosed. I never liked this picture since it was taken after a funeral and we’d all been sad and quiet. I was in the back towering over my mom and Claire, who stood with an arm around each other.

  Wilma probably chose this picture because it’s the only one with all seven of us in it.

  Returning everything to the bottle, I put the lid back on. Throwing the bottle across the wall was like throwing a football. I stepped back and exploded in a few fast steps, getting my arm fully stretched and sending the bottle flying through the air.

  There was something satisfying in seeing the arc and knowing that soon Devina would pick up that same bottle and touch the same papers that I’d just touched.

  For a few moments, I stood watching the massive wall, wishing that it would crumble to the ground and leave a view to the other side. I imagined a beautiful woman looking back at me.

  What would I say to her?

  Shaking my head to clear it of my daydreams, I forced myself to back away and finally turn my back on the wall. I was giving too much thought to a woman I would never meet in real life.

  CHAPTER 7

  Rescue Mission

  Devina

  The minute my toe touched the cold water, I wanted to give up on my mission.

  What was I thinking?

  We were only one week away from Wilma’s being auctioned off in a tournament and her letters were getting more and more desperate. Yesterday she had written that she had a hard time sleeping because she couldn’t stop thinking about the tournament, and that she was scared of picking the wrong husband.

  Of course, she was scared. Wilma was a child and she shouldn’t have to be forced into this situation.

  Goosebumps spread all over my body, but I still took another step out in the cold Pacific Ocean, swallowing my discomfort and fear. If only I could have walked closer to the border wall, but the signs warning of mines made me keep a safe distance.

  For a moment I wondered how things had been before the Toxic War. Back then the Northlands had been called Canada and Alaska.

  They probably had guards patrolling the area.

  It wasn’t unlikely since there had been eight billion people in the world before the war. Now we were down to one point five and the numbers didn’t seem to grow much.

  It was twenty minutes past midnight and the downside was that it was dark with only moonlight shining through the clouds. The upside was that it was low tide, which meant less swimming for me. I had to walk out far to have the water cover my chest.

  The sooner you get over there, the sooner you can get back.

  My hand cramped around the waterproof bag that was tied to my waist and floated next to me. Sucking in a large breath, I slid into the water and began swimming. My skin was screaming with pain from the cold water, but I forced myself to go on.

  Getting to the end of the fence that separated our countries was easy since I was carried by the current drifting away from the shore. But once I swam around the fence and began making my way to the beach, it got a lot harder. The bag was now behind me, tethered to the rope around my waist but showing that the current wanted to take us out to sea. I had to use all my strength to move us in the right direction and when I finally made it to land, I was panting with exhaustion.

  With my teeth clattering, I picked up my bag and moved away from the water. My hands were shaking as I found a flashlight in the bag and moved it around to see my surroundings. This side of the border was as empty as the other side had been.

  Good!

  I put on the black clothing that I’d brought and left the bag on the beach before I jogged in the direction of Wilma’s house.

  The map she had sent me was in my hands as I moved past several houses trying to make no sound. There were no main roads, which confused me until I’d run for about ten minutes, and a drone flew above me. We had them in the Motherlands, but they were rare, and I’d only seen a few in my lifetime. Crouching down to hide, my heart was pounding in my chest, but the drone flew fast and as soon as it was gone, I stood back up and continued running.

  I can do this! I’m saving a young girl from a horrible fate.

  After about twenty minutes of running, I finally reached the house on the map with a circle around it.

  This is where she lives.

  With legs of jelly, I suppressed my fear and snuck closer. I was careful not to shine my flashlight directly at the windows while I assessed which room Wilma was sleeping in.

  There!

  According to the floor plan she had made for me, her room was in the middle, next to the entrance. I hoped I wouldn’t have to break in but that I could wake her up by tapping the window.

  Okay, here goes!

  Holding my breath, I raised my hand and knocked quietly on the window. Tap, tap, tap.

  CHAPTER 8

  Intruder

  Tyton

  Tap, tap, tap.

  My eyes opened, and my neck craned as I heard the sound again.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  What the hell?

  A quick glance at the clock told me it was one in the morning. Who the fuck was at our house at this hour?

  Getting up from my bed, I walked to my window and looked down at the entrance to the main house. There was no one there. Unlike my parents and Wilma, who lived inside the house, I lived in a converted hayloft in one of the side buildings. It had been one of my demands when I agreed to run the family business with my father. I’d wanted my own space and I loved the cozy feel of this place.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Could it be a bird making that sound?

  I dismissed the idea since birds weren’t active at this hour. And then I saw a shadow move.

  Someone was lurking outside my family’s home and it made my blood boil with protective rage. Was that person trying to warn an intruder that was already inside? Why else would anyone tap at our living room window?

  Not caring to put on clothes, I ran down the stairs in my briefs only and chose the back exit. That way I would have a chance to move around the house and sneak up on the man tapping at the window.

  The wet grass dampened my long strides as I ran full speed all the way to the opposite corner of the main building. After that I tiptoed forward with slow deliberate movements.

  A dark hoodie concealed the face of the man tapping on the window, but the moonlight showed his outline, and the small size of him made me realize that I was dealing with a young boy rather than a man. That didn’t mean I would show mercy.

  If this boy was the look-out for a thief inside my family’s home, then he would be sorry I caught him.

  I was moving closer like a patient feline predator, and then I heard his voice in a low hoarse whisper.

  “Wilma… Wilma, wake up.”

  My body stiffened. Was this some lovesick pup who was dreaming of marrying my sister? Relief filled me as I concluded that if he was calling for her, at least he wasn’t trying to warn an intruder.

  Not sure if I should admire the bravery of this boy or kill him for his audacity, I watched him a little longer.

  “Wilma…”

  In a leap, I had my hand over his mouth before he said my sister’s name again. The boy screamed into my hands, but he was already dangling above the ground with his back pressed against my chest.

  “Stay quiet or I’ll fucking break your neck.”

  My warning made him whimper in fear, but at least he wasn’t screaming any longer. There was no reason to wake up the whole house, so I carried him inside the hay barn, using my elbow to turn on the light and my foot to close the door behind me.

  “You’d better tell me what the fuck you’re doing here!” I pushed him hard toward the stack of hay bales and he fell on top of them with a whooshing sound when all the air was knocked from his lungs.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, boy?”

  The little shit refused to look at me but crawled away like he could find an exit behind the hay bales.

  That set me off. I could have broken his neck when I grabbed him, but I’d given him a chance to explain himself. If this coward couldn’t even face me, he deserved a serious beating. “You little fucker.” In a fast movement I clamped down on his ankle, pulled him back in a harsh jerk, and got on top of him. My arm pulled back and my fist formed as I aimed for his cheek.

  It wasn’t a clean blow because he turned his head and the hoodie came between my hand and his face. The boy still screamed and sobbed like he’d never been beaten before.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Clamping my hand under his chin, I turned his head and pushed away the hoodie and all the damp hair that covered his face. With his eyes squeezed tight and him wailing, his face was so scrunched up that I couldn’t figure out how old he was, but there was no sign of a beard

  “What’s your name?”

  “Don’t hurt me.”

  A chill ran down my spine. That voice was very light, even for a boy.

  “Look at me, boy.”

 

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