Текст книги "Intermix Nation "

Автор книги: M. Attardo

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Nineteen

Nazirah sits in an empty corridor, waiting. She watches from the open archway as black cars line up in the driveway. The Lords that exit are completely unlike their Eridian counterparts. They’re heavily armed, surrounded by bodyguards, and menacing. Nazirah rises to go find Solomon and the others, reminding herself that she is not in Eridies anymore.

She walks back to the main entryway, from which Olag leads her into the library. It’s small but lavish, lined with bookcases, with an ornate wooden table in the center. Nazirah takes a seat next to Aldrik, near the head, as the Lords file inside. Nazirah counts a dozen in total, far more than in Eridies, a much smaller territory. Each Lord sits at the table; at least two bodyguards armed with assault rifles stationed behind him. Nazirah wrings her hands in her lap, wishing Solomon hadn’t convinced Aldrik her presence here would be a good idea. Adamek is unusually late.

Solomon sits down at the head of the table, bolstered by several plush cushions, as a man enters the room. Nazirah knows instantly that this is the Khan. He has skin dark as night, sinewy muscles riddled with thick, cobwebbed veins. His ebony mane glistens, oiled and coarse. It’s knotted into a long braid that falls down his back. Khanto wears a vest of bullets and a necklace strung with human teeth, his own “scratches.”

The Khan sits down across from Nazirah. He looks around for Adamek and then focuses on her. “Nazirah Nation,” he says, voice rolling like thunder. “I am shocked to see you here, considering the company you keep. Yet I admire your effort to uphold the honor of your bloodline, misguided as you are. It’s unfortunate the tapestries of our lives share this common weave, but it is a pleasure to meet you nonetheless.”

“Er, you as well sir,” she responds stiffly, unsure if Khanto is complimenting or insulting her.

Adamek enters the library, silver briefcase in hand. He takes the only unoccupied seat at the table, to the right of Nazirah. Any warmth immediately vanishes from Khanto’s eyes. Adamek doesn’t flinch when the Khan’s bodyguards aim their guns at him, even though he’s clearly unarmed. The Khan, not taking his eyes off Adamek, slowly motions for the guards to settle down. They lower their weapons, but the tension remains.

Solomon claps his hands together. “Right,” he says. “Now that we are all here and settled, let us begin.”

Aldrik talks for several uninterrupted minutes. He outlines the goals of the rebellion, what the insurgents hope to achieve, and what they’re offering in return for allegiance. Solomon translates every word, since the majority of Red Lords do not speak the common tongue. Adamek then gives a brief demonstration of the Iluxor, showing the Red Lords a pre-selected memory from Solomon’s childhood. The Red Lords are completely mesmerized by the device, and rapidly ask Solomon questions in Deathlandic, fighting to be heard through the escalating din.

“Enough.”

The room goes silent.

“Lord Khanto?” questions Solomon.

The Khan addresses Aldrik. “I thank you for bringing this appalling disparity to our attention, my friend. The desires of the rebellion indeed parallel our own in the Deathlands. We suffer here, while the capital indulges. We send them our mercenaries, our spices, our gold for nothing. You are a good man, Aldrik.”

Aldrik is wary, and Nazirah senses it too. He says, “But …”

“But,” Khanto says quietly, “I am afraid that I am not so good a man. I cannot simply agree to these terms.”

“And what, my friend,” Aldrik grumbles, “do you want?”

Khanto looks at Adamek. He says, “You must pay the price.”

“What price?” Aldrik asks.

The Khan addresses Adamek in Deathlandic. Nazirah and Aldrik both look at Solomon, hopelessly lost, but his face is grave and he has stopped translating. To Nazirah’s complete shock, Adamek responds to Khanto fluently and without hesitation. Their voices are even, devoid of anger or other emotion. The men reach across the table and shake hands firmly.

“Thank you,” Khanto says. Adamek nods once. Khanto rises from his seat and the entire party of Lords and guards leave without another word.

“Would someone like to tell me what the hell just happened?” growls Aldrik.

Adamek shrugs wordlessly. He gets up, walks casually out of the library. Nazirah looks at Solomon, bewildered. Aldrik appears ready to explode.

“This is bad news,” Solomon says, shaking his head despondently. “This is very bad news indeed. Although not entirely unexpected.”

“Solomon,” Nazirah commands, “talk.”

“The Khan has agreed to ally with the rebellion, along with all of the remaining Red Lords, their servants and mercenaries –”

“But that’s good news, isn’t it?” she interrupts.

Aldrik raises an agitated hand and Solomon continues. “Under the condition that he and Mr. Morgen settle their feud the traditional way, within a fortnight’s time.”

“Which is?” asks Aldrik suspiciously.

Solomon glances worriedly at Nazirah. He squeaks, “A battle to the death.”

#

Later that afternoon, Nazirah ventures into the conservatory to meet Solomon. She doesn’t really want tea, but won’t cancel their plans, not when Solomon has been so gracious. Nazirah thinks about the overlord, about his necklace of canines and incisors. Will Adamek become the newest addition?

“Hey, Solomon.”

Nazirah spots him alone, sitting at a small table in the corner. None of the windows in the riad contain any glass. Nazirah always feels like she’s outside, even when there’s a roof above her head. She takes a seat beside him.

“Miss Nation,” Solomon greets her, gesturing to a nearby servant. “I am pleased you decided to join me, even after the unpleasant business of this morning.” The servant holds a golden kettle high. He pours the tea into small glasses from several feet in the air with perfect precision. Nazirah inhales the fragrant, minty water.

“Sugar?” Solomon asks, offering her a small jar.

“Thanks,” she says, dropping a cube into her glass. “And thank you for inviting me, and for the clothes, and for letting us stay here. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough, really. Everything here is so beautiful.”

Solomon looks around, smiling. “I am particularly fond of this old family relic,” he says, patting a wall. “Though I must confess, Miss Nation, I often feel entirely unworthy of living here. Especially in light of the insoluble hardship my territory faces.”

“Solomon,” she says gently, “you can call me Nazirah.”

“You are far too kind, Miss Nation,” he says, politely ignoring her request.

“I’m a lot of things, Solomon,” she says honestly. “But kind isn’t one of them.”

“You are also far too hard on yourself, as is often the case.” Solomon pauses for a moment before continuing. “Unfortunate circumstances today,” he says slowly, gauging her reaction. “I was hoping the Khan would see reason.” He looks at her searchingly. “But it appears his desire for vengeance has gotten the best of him.”

“I’m still not exactly sure what happened in there,” she says quickly, distinctly uncomfortable.

Solomon sets down his glass. “The Khan is a man of honor,” he says. “As is Mr. Morgen, each in his own way. They both have codes they live by, rules they follow. Khanto believes Mr. Morgen has disgraced his name and bloodline by killing his father. This is how men settle disputes in the Red West.”

“Does Morgen realize what he’s agreed to?”

“Of course he does!” exclaims Solomon. “Mr. Morgen speaks Deathlandic better than most natives. And he, like the Chancellor and other members of government, is well acquainted with the various customs and traditions each race follows. I would go so far as to say he expected this.”

Nazirah is nonplussed. “But if he expected it, why not avoid the Red Lords all together? Why not go directly to intermix for support, like we tried to do in Eridies?”

Solomon stirs his tea idly. “It is not the same here,” he says. “In the Deathlands, life is pernicious for everyone, intermix and native alike. Intermix have served the Red Lords for centuries. We all work together, towards the common goal of survival. It is the only way we could ever endure such harsh conditions. So, unlike in Eridies, the Red Lords have the final say for everyone. And they live and die under the Khan’s iron fist.”

“I still don’t understand,” she presses. “Morgen has amnesty. Khanto wouldn’t be able to touch him if Morgen didn’t agree to it. Why would he throw that away?”

“Maybe,” Solomon says, “for the same reason Khanto would not touch him at all if Mr. Morgen did not agree to it … regardless of amnesty. Maybe, for the same reason the Khan requested it of him in the first place.”

“Retribution?”

“Honor.”

“Wouldn’t it be more honorable to let it go?” she asks. “Not try and kill him?”

Solomon smiles. “I said the Khan follows a code he sets for himself, a code he never strays from. Because of this, he is a man of honor. I never said he was honorable.”

Nazirah is annoyed with Solomon’s semantics. “And what kind of man is Morgen?”

“Only time and God know the answer to that question.”

“So … one of them is going to die,” she says, the reality of it sinking in.

“Yes, Miss Nation,” Solomon replies. “One of them will die.” He sighs dejectedly. “But enough of this morbid talk! They know the stakes and will realize their fates soon enough.” Nazirah remains silent. “May I say how pleasantly surprised I was to find you two had grown closer?”

“It was Aldrik’s idea,” she says. “He thinks it will help the campaign if it seems like we’re together. It’s all for show.”

“Is it?”

Nazirah feels like Solomon has caught her in a lie she didn’t know she was telling. Her voice is strained. “Yes.”

Solomon is quiet, contemplating his next words. “Miss Nation,” he says, “forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, but do you know why Mr. Morgen joined us?”

Nazirah squirms uncomfortably in her seat. She doesn’t think Solomon would tell a soul she spied on Adamek’s memories. But she doesn’t exactly want to admit to it, either. “I know some stuff,” she says finally. “I know it’s because Victoria died, although he has no idea I know that.”

Solomon gazes outside. “Yes,” he agrees, “such a tragedy. The Chancellor was never known for fidelity. In fact, he is quite renowned for his female … appreciation. But when Gabirel discovered his own wife having an affair, he went insane. He shot her in her bathtub, several months back, and has been covering up her death ever since. The rest of the country believes Victoria is bedridden because of illness. Mr. Morgen found her dead and swore his allegiance to us from that moment on. He longs to avenge his mother. I am sure the irony of your situation is not lost on him.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Solomon smirks mischievously. “Mostly, I would suspect, the same way you know it yourself,” he says. “I have seen it.” Nazirah blushes into her empty glass. “Mr. Morgen allowed me to view his memories many months ago, when he first asked me to initiate the amnesty negotiations with your brother. He has incredible patience. The negotiations took me several weeks to successfully execute.”

“Right after my parents –”

“Yes.”

“But why cover up Victoria’s death at all?” she asks. “Why not blame it on her health?”

Solomon taps his fez. “Try to think like the Chancellor, Miss Nation. A dead Victoria Morgen will be memorialized, celebrated, and glorified. It can only lead to questions, inconsistencies in the story, which Gabirel desperately wants to avoid. Especially when dealing with the threat of insurgence. A sick Victoria Morgen, however, simply fades from the public eye. She will become a distant memory, long forgotten and rarely discussed.”

“So that’s it, then?” she asks. “That’s the whole story? Morgen wants to avenge his mother, so he joins forces against his father?”

“I would think there is a bit more to it than that,” Solomon says. “But that is the general idea, I suppose.”

“Solomon,” Nazirah questions, “do you think he feels guilty about anything he’s done? That he genuinely rejects the Medi beliefs? Or is it all just to get at Gabirel?”

“I tend to think the best of people,” Solomon replies, “often to my own detriment. But if his views did not shift, I would wonder why Mr. Morgen would go through all of this trouble, all of this effort? It is, however, a question only he can answer fully. And maybe you will learn something unexpected, if you can gather the courage to ask.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she snaps.

“I did not say you were.”

“But you think I’m afraid?”

“It is easy to hate,” Solomon says. “It is much harder to understand. I think you might be fearful of what he has to say and what that might mean for you.”

“Why did you ask me here, exactly?” she huffs.

“Just for some tea,” Solomon says kindly, “the pleasure of your company, and to offer you some hard-learned advice, if you are gracious enough to accept it.”

Nazirah nods slowly.

“Forgiveness usually precedes trust,” he tells her. “But in your case, I think it is the other way around.”

It makes sense. Nazirah guesses she trusts Adamek in some capacity, believes he’s working towards the success of the rebellion. But she most certainly does not forgive him. “Okay,” she says. “So?”

“So,” Solomon responds patiently, “since every situation is unique, why are you concerned about feeling what you think is right … what you think is the appropriate norm?”

“I don’t understand.”

Solomon rises from his seat, patting her gently on the hand. “Just feel, Miss Nation. That is all I am saying. Open yourself up to emotion, whatever it may be. Allow yourself to experience something besides hate. You may be surprised by what you let in.”

Nazirah contemplates Solomon’s words. She turns around, looking for him, but he is already gone.

#

The next two weeks pass like the calm before the storm. The campaign cannot leave the Deathlands until after the rebels receive the full support of the Red Lords. The Red Lords will not endorse the rebels until after their overlord battles Adamek. Aldrik ignores Adamek, angry that he agreed to fight the Khan without seeking approval. Nazirah avoids them both. Everything is at a standstill.

Each afternoon, Nazirah takes tea with Solomon in the conservatory. Unlike that first day, Solomon doesn’t raise sensitive issues or offer advice. He instead tells Nazirah all about his life, his family history, and his work in the prison. And Nazirah loves to listen, completely fascinated by his magical world.

The rest of the time, Nazirah reads on her balcony. Or she sits there, overlooking the courtyard garden, lost in thought. Or she watches Adamek. And every day, without fail, he completely infuriates her.

Adamek doesn’t spend his time preparing for the fight, training, or working on his strategy … no. Instead, he sleeps. Or he sits in the courtyard and reads. The night before the battle, Nazirah cannot take it anymore. She is on her balcony, as usual, watching the sunset and feeling increasingly on edge. Her nerves are fried, fired. She spots Adamek lying beside the fountain, relaxing lazily, and something inside her snaps.

Nazirah storms out of her room and down into the courtyard. Disregarding the tranquility of the cascading water and the perfume from the flowers, she marches up to Adamek. He is stretched out on the fountain’s edge, in baggy gray shorts and a light blue shirt … reading again. He clearly hears her but doesn’t look up. A voice in the back of Nazirah’s mind demands to know what she is doing, screams at her to let him die. Why does she even care?

She ignores it.

Adamek casually turns a page. “If you’re going to continue wheezing at me like an asthmatic grandmother, could you at least move a few inches? You’re blocking my light.”

Nazirah grabs the book, chucks it into the fountain. The water is very shallow, so it unfortunately doesn’t sink. But it does land with a satisfying splat.

Adamek sits up and faces her. “Was that really necessary?” he asks. “Do you always throw a fit when someone doesn’t give you their undivided attention?”

“Are you serious right now?” she rants. “I’m trying to be helpful!”

“And destroying my stuff is helping me how?”

Nazirah plants her hands on her hips. “You should be training for tomorrow, not reading for pleasure! Who knows how many teeth the Khan has added to his necklace, in the last two weeks alone?”

Adamek’s eyes flash, green with malice. “And I’m supposed to believe the princess finally descends from her tower, trampling everything underfoot, because she cares about my wellbeing?”

Nazirah takes a menacing step forward. “I already told you, I don’t care! You know I came because you’re still useful to us!”

“We have the Eridian fishermen,” Adamek says evenly. “Cayus refused us because of my actions. The Red West will align with us, whether I win or not. Your brother has complete access to my funds in the event of my demise. Slome is a native of Zima, perfectly capable of handling them on his own. He can figure out Osen easily enough. You don’t need me.”

“You’re ‘Renatus,’ Morgen,” Nazirah scoffs. “You’re the love of my life, remember? Of course we need you! What game are you playing?”

“What game are you playing, Nation?” he asks. “I know you want me dead.”

Nazirah opens her mouth, shuts it.

“What, not so chatty now?” he mocks. “Worried that I’m onto you? That I know this whole situation makes you feel like the coward you know you are?”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Bullshit! You wish you were the one challenging me … fighting me … killing me. But you’re too afraid. So you’re not.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” he yells.

“I said to fucking shut up!”

Nazirah slams her hands into his chest, pushing him backwards into the fountain. He grabs her arms, dragging her over the edge with him. The two of them wrestle for dominance in the shallow water. She rolls on top of him, strangling him. He flips her over, pushing her shoulders down. Nazirah chokes as fluid fills her lungs. She kicks him. Cursing, Adamek pulls her up by the wrists so they are sitting. She stares at him defiantly. The water pounds into her face, blurring her vision.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he repeats, not angry, not anything at all.

“You’re not wrong,” she says. “So don’t die tomorrow.”

“Irri!”

Nazirah wrenches her wrists away as if electrocuted. She stares into Adamek’s face, eyes wide, before turning her head. “Cato!” she cries.

Her voice sounds unnaturally chipper, like there’s nothing strange about sitting in the fountain with Adamek, getting pelted by water. Cato stands before them, stunned silent, smile wiped clean. Increasingly aware how bad this looks, especially since her soaked white dress is now clinging to her like a second skin, Nazirah struggles to extricate herself from the fountain. Cato quickly comes to his senses, rushing forward to help her. He hasn’t changed much in two weeks, save for some stubble and the bewildered expression. “Hi,” he says, unsure.

Nazirah attempts to hug him. Cato is understandably distant. He remains fixated on Adamek, also drenched and out of the water, soggy book in hand. Nazirah protectively crosses her arms in front of her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asks, not knowing what else to say.

“Visiting you,” Cato responds slowly. “I was able to take a few days off from assignment. Solomon arranged it. I wanted to surprise you.” He looks between the two of them. “What is this, Irri?”

“What do you mean?” she asks nervously.

“What do I mean?” he says in disbelief. “Why were you sitting in the fountain?”

Adamek holds his book up, droplets of water rolling down the binding. “Dropped my book,” he says casually. “Nation was assisting me in retrieving it.” He looks at Nazirah. “She’s … helpful like that.”

Nazirah shoots Adamek a nasty glare. “Cato, I’m really happy to see you,” she says honestly, shivering. “Can we go upstairs and talk? I want to hear everything.”

Cato looks conflicted. “O-kay,” he concedes eventually, allowing Nazirah to pull him away.

“Nation!” Adamek yells, calling out to her. Cato stiffens. Nazirah turns, looks at him questioningly. “Your day will come.”

He disappears, walking in the opposite direction. “What did he mean by that?” asks Cato suspiciously, as they walk through the corridor.

“No idea,” Nazirah says quickly, entering her room. “I think he was trying to get to you.” Nazirah doesn’t know why she can’t tell Cato the truth. It would be so much simpler. But she’s buried too deep in lies to dig herself out.

Nazirah grabs an old pair of sweatpants and a ratty shirt before walking into the bathroom, changing out of her waterlogged clothes. She comes back to find Cato sprawled on her bed.

“A lot different from home, huh?” he asks, looking around appreciatively. He smiles a bit, noticing the picture he gave her. The suspicion isn’t gone from his voice, but there’s wonder there too.

“To say the very least,” she replies, sitting beside him. They’ve been apart for barely two weeks. Nazirah doesn’t understand why it feels so different.

“Solomon isn’t giving me this kind of treatment,” he huffs. “My room is nice, but this is palatial.” He looks at her meaningfully, deadpans, “He must really like you.”

“Yes,” Nazirah agrees uncomfortably. “Solomon has been gracious to us. But I feel completely isolated here. How have you been? What’s recon like?”

“It’s good, Irri,” Cato answers, a smile lighting up his face. “It’s actually really good. It’s hard work, for sure, and dangerous. But it’s exciting and important. We know information about the rebellion before anyone else does.”

“Really?” she asks. “Like what?”

“Well, we heard about what happened in the Eridian slums,” Cato says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe Niko thought that would be a good idea. You were lucky to leave with your lives.”

Nazirah looks down at her arms, shivering slightly. The burns may have healed, but she still feels the searing flesh, still remembers the blackened bodies. Those visions plague her already haunted dreams. “I know,” she murmurs. “And for nothing.”

“For nothing?” Cato repeats, confused. “Irri, Eridian intermix are migrating to the compound by the thousands.”

“What?” asks Nazirah, stunned. “That’s not possible!”

“It is,” Cato explains. “I don’t think Cayus is exactly happy about joining forces with us, but he feels indebted to the allies after you and Morgen saved his eldest son. And I think the intermix are realizing that inaction is not working.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Niko told me he’s never seen anything like it … an army of intermix. They’re calling themselves the ‘free people’ of Renatus.”

“You’ve spoken with Niko?”

“Only yesterday,” Cato responds, “for a debriefing. He’s insanely busy, especially with all the intermix showing up. He says they have completely taken over the meadow behind headquarters with their huts. Gloom and Doom are apparently working around the clock to secure the base, erecting more concrete protection walls around the compound, digging additional underground bunkers and air-raid shelters, rewiring and expanding the electric fence, importing weapons, trying to keep the mass exodus of intermix off the Medi radar for as long as possible.”

“How are they feeding everyone?” she asks.

“With the fishing quotas you convinced the Eridians to redistribute away from the Medis.”

Nazirah is astonished the campaign has had such a dramatic effect in only a few weeks. “I can’t take any credit for that,” she admits. “But that’s amazing we’re getting so much support.”

“I know.” Cato smiles. “And that’s not all of it. Even Cander has been securing more allies around southern Eridies, recruiting his friends and contacts.”

Nazirah is truly astonished now.

“I spoke with him about a week ago,” Cato continues, face shining. “For the first time in … a long time. We’re not where we used to be, but it’s a start.”

She gently touches Cato’s arm. “That’s great,” she says, because she knows how much it must mean to him.

Cato gets a serious look then. “It’s not all good news,” he says. “The slum attack was poorly executed, conceived in the final hour and designed to look unintentional. You may be safe here under the Salaahi armistice, but you need to be careful. There have been more than whispers, dark rumors shadowing the country. The Medis are strengthening their army and they won’t go down without a fight. The Chancellor is targeting you, the face, as offender number one.”

“I get it, Cato,” Nazirah sighs. “I knew the risk when I agreed to do this. I never expected Gabirel to give up easily.” Nazirah shudders at the memory of him stroking Victoria’s lifeless cheek. “He can’t be underestimated.”

Cato takes her hand. “I will do everything in my power to protect you,” he promises.

Nazirah smiles sadly. “I know you will.”

“Tell me more about you.”

Nazirah grabs her bag off the floor, rummages through it. “Well,” she says, “You probably heard from Cander that I visited your family when I was in Rafu.” She takes out the locket, gently pulls it over Cato’s head. “From Caria, with love.”

Cato’s eyes fill with unshed tears. He opens the locket, stares longingly at the photo inside. “They are well?” he asks shakily.

“They are,” she replies. “They miss you, and are proud of you. Of us both.”

Cato is quiet for a moment, collecting himself. “How’s Caria?”

“Toothless.”

Cato smiles. “And my mother?”

“She would be happier with you home, but she’s managing,” Nazirah says. “Honestly. She practically force fed me cookies intravenously as soon as I walked through the door.”

“Did Cander give you a rough time?”

Nazirah shrugs noncommittally. “No worse than usual.”

Cato nods and there’s a moment of awkward silence. Nazirah braces herself for what she knows is coming. “So,” he begins, “now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way.…”

“Were those pleasantries?”

“Compared to what we’re about to discuss … yes.”

“I’m really not in the mood.…”

“There have been rumors flying all over about you and Morgen.…”

“You know what they say about rumors.”

“That they start with a grain of truth?”

Her eyes narrow. “That you can’t always believe them.”

“I don’t, usually.”

“If you have something to ask me,” Nazirah snaps, “ask it.”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“Because I can’t believe I’m actually entertaining this conversation!” she screeches. “Don’t trust everything you hear!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Cato hisses. “I nearly died laughing when I first heard the tale Aldrik is spinning about you two. Then I came here tonight and saw it for myself. I guess the joke is on me, huh?”

“Nothing was going on.”

“Nothing was going on?”

“No.”

“Do you take me for an idiot?” he growls. “I saw the two of you, frolicking in the goddamn fountain! It sure didn’t look like nothing to me!”

“Then maybe you should get your eyes checked!” she shouts. “Because you don’t know what you saw!”

“Then why don’t you explain it to me?” he yells. “Unless you think I’m too dense to get it!”

“Stop turning this into something bigger than it is! I know it looked strange, but we were just talking! I mean, the guy might die tomorrow!”

“Exactly, Irri! Your parents’ murderer, the man who has made your life a living hell for months, the man you hate,” Cato emphasizes, spitting his words, “will probably die tomorrow. You should be jumping from the rafters of this riad with joy! But you’re not. And I don’t understand why.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

“But why is it complicated?” Cato pleads. “A few weeks ago, you were practically begging Nikolaus to kill him. What’s changed?”

Me.

“Nothing’s changed.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do you care for him?”

Does she?

Don’t ask a question, if you don’t want to know the answer.

Nazirah stands up and marches to the door. Cato follows her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “But I am learning the hard way that people are not simply good or bad. They are complex. They are imperfect, Cato, damaged and flawed. A man is not defined by one thing.”

“What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s complicated! People are complicated! I am complicated! And how I feel about tomorrow, about this campaign, this rebellion, this situation and yes, even fucking Adamek Morgen is complicated! So I would appreciate it if you would get off my back about it!”

Nazirah wrenches the door open, glaring. Cato looks at her, silently processing, but doesn’t leave. He grabs her hands. “Look,” he says, more quietly. “I shouldn’t have attacked you like that. I’ve just thought about you so much since you left, worried how you’ve handled everything. And then I hear all of these rumors. And then I come here and see you with him. It messed with my mind. I’m sorry.”

Nazirah interlocks their hands, breathing deeply. She’s forgotten how calming his simple presence could be. And she really has missed him, despite everything. “I’m sorry too,” she says. “This campaign, the fire, the expectations, having to fake so many emotions all the time … it’s been a lot harder than I thought. It’s wearing me out.”

“I know,” he sighs. “This has been difficult for us both. But it will all be over soon. Let’s get some rest and we’ll regroup tomorrow after … just after.”

Nazirah nods silently and Cato gives her a long overdue hug. He drags it out to the point of discomfort and then leaves. Nazirah slumps against the door, head pounding and heart aching … heart pounding and head aching. She pulls out the amnesty pendant, looks at it thoughtfully.

Why did she go outside?

Nazirah wasn’t lying when she said her feelings about Adamek were complicated. Does she not want him to die tomorrow so that she can eventually kill him herself? Or does she not want him to die at all?

She’s worried it’s a bit of both.