The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (best novels of all time TXT) 📗

are approaching a lashway,” the familiar, clipped voice announced. “Please make sure that your lashes are ready.”

“Thank you,” I said as I stepped over the edge, already pulling my lashes into my hand. The air caught my hair, pulling it up, and for a moment I didn’t throw any lashings. I just fell, oddly peaceful, watching the view of the exposed lower level rush past me. A mother and child, walking hand in hand over one of the flat bridges from the Medica. A young pair of Squires sparring as they lashed by, their batons emitting sharp flashes of light. A statue of a man, eyes held high, hands open and accepting.

Why can’t they just stop and listen? I wondered. I know I’m onto something here with Grey and Scipio…

I tossed out a lash, hitting a column and letting the cables slow my fall and pull me closer to the structure before detaching again, keeping close to the Citadel walls and arches, which collapsed inward the farther down it went. If I didn’t, my lashes wouldn’t be long enough to hit, and I’d continue falling until I reached the bottom. Then I probably wouldn’t do much of anything, after that.

Why can’t I just… please them? I should have been a perfect Knight. I loved the athleticism, the speed and exhilaration. The Knights were stiff, but at least I knew them. The Citadel was my home—I didn’t want to go anywhere else. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I just wasn’t suited for anything else, not really. I wasn’t smart enough to be considered for the Eyes, nor would I work for them. I still couldn’t understand how Alex could, but it was his life. The Cogs were too insular, the Medics too coldly logical, and I couldn’t swim well enough to go to work with the Divers in Water Treatment. All that left were the Hands, and I wasn’t sure I could grow a potato, let alone be responsible for feeding the massive population of the Tower.

I threw another lash reflexively, the harness tightening as it caught, slowing me down and drawing me closer to the building. I disconnected it heartbeats later, just as reflexively, my mind still churning.

You do ask a lot of questions, a traitorous voice in my mind announced, adding to the frustration. So what if I did? What was wrong with a liberal dose of curiosity? Why did Scipio only want us to look down and not ask questions? What did he have to hide?

I threw yet another lash out, only this time I had it draw me up, and slowly began to climb, one lash at a time, up the edifice of the Citadel. I didn’t make myself climb like the other Knights—hand over hand, mutinously devoid of any fun. I played. I didn’t zig, I zagged. I used gravity and the winch in the harness to my advantage, sometimes going down so I could flip up to higher levels, casting my lashes up at the apex of the climb, barely latching on to a column or arch, or even the sheer walls of the Citadel itself.

But even with a smile cracking my face, my cheeks flushed from exertion, the dark seed of doubt remained. What if something really was wrong with me?

Something inside me eventually gave, and I spun myself onto a landing, hitting the ground hard and stumbling forward. A nearby Knight reached out to catch me as I toppled, and I caught his arm with my hand, managing to avoid making a total spectacle of myself.

I straightened, a grateful smile forming and dying on my lips in the speed of a glance. His eyes were on my wrist, the three illuminating the horror and revulsion on his face. He quickly snatched his hands back, as if afraid I would suddenly decide to keep them with or without his permission, and took a big step back. It could’ve been funny, if it weren’t so visceral.

Am I a degenerate? I asked myself as I watched him scurry away.

For a moment I stood there, the people milling about and keeping their distance from where I had landed. My own little bubble, with nobody in it. I thought briefly of my friends, but they weren’t Knights. They weren’t my people. These were my people—and they hated me. When they didn’t even know me.

“Squire Castell.”

The voice was as soft as the man’s footsteps had been. I hadn’t even heard him approach. I looked over, and felt my face redden immediately.

The last time I had seen Theo he’d had a beard, a mop of dusty blond hair, and a sense of humor that could make even our surly training officer smile. We’d sparred often, and hard; he’d been the only person who could keep up with me. We’d been the lowest-ranked squires, both of us fives at the time. He’d been the only person I could remember ever joking with about my number, and I had wound up nursing a pretty big crush on him for the better part of the year. I had never been able to find the nerve to tell him about it. I wasn’t even sure if he reciprocated it, or if I’d taken ordinary moments between us and somehow imagined them as something more. I was too nervous.

And now he was standing right in front of me. I hadn’t seen him since he’d graduated. I’d cried for a week, that perfect image of us taking shelter from the world in each other’s arms broken. I wasn’t proud of that, but he was my first crush, after all.

He’d changed. His cheeks were clean-shaven now, his hair trimmed to a military cut. His eyes, which had once held so much life, now looked dull and flat.

“Theo,” I said, stepping toward him, instantly concerned. I wanted him to be sick, but I knew that look all too well. “Are you all right?”

“I am well,” he replied, his voice stiff. “It’s disappointing to see that your number