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A word before the story continues: You can find the previous chapter behind these blue words.

Chapter Three

Lily stood outside the bakery, clutching her satchel tightly. Her hands were clammy as she fumbled with the strap over her shoulder, trying to muster the courage to step inside and face her parents. The clinking of bowls, the hum of her parents’ voices, and the rhythmic pounding of dough being kneaded told her that they were awake and already hard at work. She bit at her lip and winced — she had arrived too late. No guardsman had caught her and Sammy’s return to the city, but they had spent too much time staring at the surface ruins, too much time sifting through the rubble and gazing up at the sky. The sky… the endless, glorious sky. What she would give to see it again, to be standing up on the surface right now instead of in front of this dark and gloomy bakery. A cupboard slammed and Lily jumped, her heart leaping into her throat as she clearly heard her mother swear beneath her breath. By the stars… she closed her eyes tight and took several deep breaths. She truly was in for the biggest scolding of her life. For a moment, Lily considered turning around and heading straight for the Museum with her discovery. But, no… that would only make things worse with her parents. She had to be careful about this. Her mother’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts. “Lilian! I can see you out there. Get in here.” The demand sent a jolt through her. Stumbling over her feet, she hurried up the steps into the bakery and pushed open the door, bracing herself for the onslaught that was about to come. Any comfort the familiar warmth and smells of the bakery could have offered was quickly shunned by the glare in her mother’s eyes — a piercing look filled with anger and suspicion. “Where the hell have you been?” her mother demanded, her voice thin and tight. While waiting for Lily’s response, she hadn’t stopped kneading the dough. The push and pull of her hands were as sharp as her tone as her eyes shot fireballs at Lily like an angry dragon. “Well?” “I—“ Lily stammered, glancing around the kitchen as though the bags of flour and sugar might offer an excuse she could use, but nothing came to save her. “Do you know what time it is? Do you know how much we still have to do this morning? And you’re out there! Gallivanting around as if you’ve got nothing better to do!” “I’m sorry, I just—“ Lily’s fingers tightened over her satchel strap, her heart pounding so hard it nearly plummeted into her stomach. It was a horrible feeling that sent a wave of nausea sweeping through her. The truth burned in her throat, threatening to spill out, but how could she say it? How could she tell them that she’d dared step foot on the surface? Her father, who had been gently rolling out a pie crust, looked up from his work. The curious glint in his eyes was far more dangerous than her mother’s anger — he was observant, thoughtful, and he knew when something wasn’t quite right. She quickly averted her gaze lest he saw the truth clear in her eyes, but it was too late. “Lily, where were you?” he asked, his voice quiet and calm. It was that very calmness that undid her resolve. She couldn’t lie to him. Time stood still. Keeping her eyes fixed on the flour-dusted floor, Lily swallowed heavily, nearly choking on the words as they escaped from her. “I was on the surface.” The rolling pin slipped from her father’s hands, the wooden clatter loud and jarring against the silence that followed. The smell of warm bread tightened around Lily like a vise, exacerbating the nausea that now churned through her stomach. Every second stretched into an eternity and suddenly the clock on the wall was the loudest thing in the bakery — tick, tick, ticking, drowning out the beating of her heart. Lily’s mother erupted, the silence swiftly shattered, her voice rising higher and sharper with each breath. “The surface? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any idea of the danger you put yourself in?” She dropped the dough she was kneading, flour flying from her hands in a wave of dust as she pointed at Lily. “What on earth possessed you to do something so reckless?” Lily stood her ground, her own voice trembling but firm. “I—I had to see it for myself. I had to know what it was like. I had to… look at it.” Her argument sounded so hollow, even to herself. She took a step back and steadied herself against one of the tables. “I wanted to find something!” “Find something!?” Her mother’s voice rose impossibly louder. “You could’ve lost your life up there! And what if the guardsmen saw you? You could’ve been arrested. We could lose the bakery! Do you ever think of the consequences of your actions?” “I think about everything!” Lily snapped, tears stinging her eyes. “I thought about it all! But, none of it matters. I’m alive, I wasn’t caught, and I found something! Something important.” “What could possibly be worth you risking your life?” her mother spat back. “What could possibly be worth ruining all of our lives?” “This!” Lily dug into her satchel and pulled out the device. “And these!” she said, yanking out the two pictures. Her hands shook as she strode towards the counter and placed the items on it, her body trembling as she watched their reactions, desperate for them to understand the significance of what she was showing them. The moment stilled. Her mother stared down at the pictures, confusion and disbelief flashing behind her glare. Her father moved first. He picked up the device carefully, turning it over in his hands as he inspected the lens, the buttons, the smooth surface. “A camera,” he murmured. “Like the one in the Museum…” his voice trailed off as he turned his gaze back to Lily, now with something new in his eyes — something akin to pride. A camera… the device had a name! “What do you mean?” her mother pressed, looking from Lily to her father, then back to Lily. “What is this thing?” “It takes pictures!” Lily’s words tumbled out in a rush. “Captures moments in time. Just, look!” She pointed at the pictures again, the exhilaration of discovery giving her voice a breathless urgency. “Don’t you see it? Think of the possibilities — this could change so much!” She gestured to the blank wall above the shelves. “Imagine. A picture. The three of us. Welcoming customers into the bakery. Our faces preserved forever! Your grandchildren would know what you look like.” Her mother folded her arms across her chest and stood a little straighter, her steely gaze clearly unconvinced. “This changes nothing. All I see is you and that tavern boy, getting yourselves into trouble — into danger! Don’t you understand?” Her voice broke with a mixture of frustration and fear. Whipping away, she stalked into the back living area of the bakery and slammed the door behind her, the shudder echoing throughout the entire bakery. A warm, gentle hand on her shoulder brought Lily’s attention back to her father. He was smiling, albeit with a hint of sadness. “Don’t worry about your mother,” he said softly, handing the camera back to her. “She’s just scared. The surface is such a dangerous place… she’s scared that she could’ve lost you. I’m scared, too. But you’re here now, safe and sound.” The warmth in his eyes broke down the last of Lily’s defences and she sagged against the counter, hugging the camera to her chest. “I just… I wanted to do something that matters,” she said quietly as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “I wanted to make a great discovery. Prove to you, to mum, to the Curator, that maybe I could be a part of the surface expeditions. Maybe I was wrong.” “No, you were right,” her father swiftly assured her. “This camera? Take it to the Museum, show it to the Curator and he will see this for what it is — an incredible find. Technology that still works.” He sharpened his gaze on hers and her determination suddenly returned full force. “You would make a fantastic addition to his team.” One of the ovens chimed, announcing that the bread within was cooked and ready, and her father hurried over to retrieve it. “The Curator ordered cakes for today, remember?” He spoke quickly as he pulled out the fresh baked loaves and set them on the racks to cool. “You will make the delivery. Bring the camera with you and show it to him. Let him see what you found and let him know your eagerness to assist in any way you can. I’ll handle your mother.” Lily wiped away her tears and nodded. Her father believed in her. At this moment, that was all that mattered. He squeezed her shoulder gently and smiled. “I’m proud of you, Lily. Your mother will come around. Just give her time.” There was no time for further talk. The bakery doors opened as the morning customers came to purchase bread and make their upcoming orders. Some people offered extra coins, knowing that it would allow them to get their hands on the small amounts of butter that could be procured. While serving the customers, Lily’s thoughts returned to the wide open space that was available on the surface, of all the farms that could be constructed, of the copious amounts of butter they could then offer. It would be fantastic. And, of course, the sunlight flooding the world with warmth, the whispering breeze dancing through the grass and caressing her body, she closed her eyes gently, wanting to keep the dream alive for a few moments more, but the next customer cleared his throat. Lily snapped her eyes open, a rush of warmth spreading over her face as her gaze met Xander’s. “Morning, Xander,” she said, fidgeting slightly as he looked at her, his eyes narrowing with a curiosity he failed to hide. “The usual?” He nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright?” His eyes were beautiful — the same green as the greenery that had reclaimed the ruins. She forced herself away from his stare and quickly prepared some bread and a dollop of caveberry jam: a spicy fruit that complimented the bread perfectly. “…Lily?” Lily wanted to tell him. She wanted to show him the pictures, to see that flash of awe in those glimmering eyes when he realised the significance of what she’d found. Surely he’d be just as amazed as she was. She could even take a picture of him! But, the words stuck in her throat like dry flour. Xander was a guardsman. His loyalty was to the rules of the city and law of the Curators, and he’d be obligated to report her if he knew the truth. The risk clawed at her insides, turning her excitement into fear. She couldn’t have that — not when she was going to do it herself, on her own terms, later that day. “I’m fine,” she replied with a quick smile. “Just daydreaming.” Xander didn’t press, but she could see the question still lingering in his eyes. As she hurried to serve more customers, she felt his gaze trailing her, his presence making her doubt everything. Every time she glanced his way she flushed, certain that he could see right through her and into the secrets she was hiding. Her heart pounded, fluttering with both the thrill of his gaze upon her and the anxiety of concealment. When Xander finally finished his meal and turned to leave the bakery, he paused at the door. “Lily, if there’s something wrong… you can tell me, you know?” His voice was gentle, sincere, and drawn into his gaze Lily’s cheek reddened further. For a moment, she wondered if she should just tell him — throw the plan away and trust that he would understand — but she restrained herself. It would likely not go as she imagined. “With any luck, maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow?” she smiled. Xander’s brows furrowed with faint confusion, but he nodded, returning her smile, and left the bakery, leaving Lily to her thoughts and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. “Tomorrow,” she repeated to herself as the bakery door swung shut behind the guardsman. She hadn’t said too much, had she? She winced. She had — now he’d be questioning her again, tomorrow. It was nice having an excuse for him to speak with her, but, not like this. Lily pressed both hands against the counter, trying to steady her thoughts. The anxiety that had been tangled in her chest all day felt like a thorny vine, constricting her like one of those old story-tale snake creatures. She closed her eyes slowly, took a deep breath, then reopened them. With a deliberate calm, she grabbed the measuring tools and sifted the flour and sugar into a bowl. She needed to focus. The camera. The Curator. The cakes. The cakes had to be absolutely perfect. Like a bribe before the inevitable, everything depended on them.

philomenob

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