Devotion (Central Cities #1)

Chapter 19

19

Three days pass in a weird, aching blur.

We do normal things. Gabriel swims and works and goes to meetings. I read and draw and knit and talk to him. Twice, he lets me give him a massage, but he won’t accept any other kind of release. He doesn’t allow me to bring him to climax with my mouth, and we don’t have sex. I desperately want to take care of him, but I’m far too heavy and anxious and sad to focus on physical pleasure myself.

Maybe he feels the same.

We hold each other in bed at night and otherwise go through our days as best we can.

The public meetings are the worst. I’m forced to smile and listen agreeably so that no one suspects something is wrong. And poor Gabriel has it even worse. He has to participate. Pretend to care about the tedious policy discussions and debates, all of them meaningless when the heart of the state is so rotten. He does a good job. Puts on his normal dry, thoughtful, no-nonsense manner for the world. I can see the strain on him, but no one else seems to notice.

I hope not.

If anyone suspects he’s resistant to the will of the president, he’ll be in real danger.

Which means I will be too.

On the morning of the fourth day, my 215th day as Gabriel’s partner, he’s called into a last-minute morning meeting and has to rush through showering and dressing after his swim. His hair is still mostly wet as he combs it out and pulls it back at the nape of his neck. He left the bathroom door open as he dressed, so I can see him as he stands in front of the vanity mirror.

He stares at himself with a blank expression, but beneath it there’s a palpable heaviness. A bleak, oppressive weight.

It breaks my heart.

Without thinking through the instinct, I get up and go stand beside him. Rub his back in slow, tender circles.

He meets my eyes in the mirror.

“Who is this meeting with? Just the president?”

“No. It’s a small group.”

“And what’s the topic?”

“I wasn’t told, but I’m assuming it’s my plan. I was told to bring my revised version.”

“But it’s not even done yet!”

“I know.” He sighs and rubs his jaw. It makes a scratchy sound since he didn’t have time to shave this morning. “Shit.” After a shaky breath, he adds, “I don’t want to do this.”

I wrap my arm around his waist and squeeze him, rubbing my cheek against the back of his shoulder. “I know. But what choice do you have?”

“None. I have none.” Those words push him into action. He stiffens his spine and turns toward me. Gives me a quick kiss before he leaves the bathroom.

I follow him out as he gathers his notebook and a file of papers he organized last night and then strides out of the room.

Mornings with him used to be my favorite part of the entire day, but now they’ve turned into this.

When Gabriel returns from the meeting two hours later, he won’t talk to me.

That’s answer enough.

He’s so tense and withdrawn that I leave him alone for a few hours. I can read the result of the meeting in his manner, so it’s not like I need an explanation.

The meeting went bad. The president and other administrators must not have been amenable to his plan to reinstitute indentured servitude with safeguards against abuses. He pores over his papers for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, striking out lines and scrawling notes and improvised charts into his notebook.

I knit since my mind won’t relax enough for me to read or draw. My fingers work automatically, adding row after row onto the blanket I’ve been making my grandfather for his birthday, but my eyes keep darting up to watch Gabriel.

The few things I’m capable of doing to help him, he’s been refusing to let me do. So all that’s left is to sit and worry about him.

He hasn’t eaten or drunk since right after his swim, so in the midafternoon I finally get up and pour water in a glass. I carry it to his desk and set it beside him.

When he blinks at it in confusion, I pick up his hand and wrap his fingers around the glass.

He lifts it. Takes a sip. Then takes several big swallows in a row like he just remembered how to drink.

“It was bad,” he says gruffly when he lowers the glass.

“I know.” I reach over to rub his shoulder, wishing he’d at least let me give him a massage.

“He won’t allow any genuine moderations. Just a few concessions to superficially soften things so people will think it’s not like before.” He stares down at the half-filled page of his notebook. “There were a couple of people in that meeting who should have been on my side. But they caved immediately.”

I swallow over a hard lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t lift his head, but he angles his eyes up toward my face. “I don’t know what to do, Jess. This is… It’s wrong. It would be bad enough if it was simply happening, but it’s happening through me. My pen. My brain. My—” His voice breaks.

A couple of tears stream out of my eyes as I lean over and wrap my arms around him from behind in a tight hug. I can’t speak. There’s nothing to say anyway.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finally says when he’s controlled the emotion that was shuddering through him.

“I don’t either.”

“I don’t want to die.”

I make a gurgling sound and squeeze him harder.

He raises a hand to grip one of my forearms in a silent, clingy gesture.

“Would he really kill you?” I finally ask. “I know it makes sense he would, but I’ve been thinking about it. Could he pull it off? There haven’t been any executions since President Vincent took over.”

“He would. Not openly. I’d die unexpectedly of a heart attack or something similar, just like Patterson.”

I gasp. “You mean?—”

He turns his head to give me a look.

I had absolutely no idea. Not until this moment. But it makes sense.

Of course President Vincent murdered the former president even after he won the election.

Of course he did.

I’ve been woefully naive about far too many things for far too long.

I straighten up, keeping my hands on Gabriel’s shoulders. “Defying him so he kills you wouldn’t serve any purpose. He’d still have your plan to use exactly as he wants.”

“I know. He’s got my second copy in his office.”

“So there’s nothing you can do. Just play along for now. Maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.”

I don’t actually believe my words, and neither does Gabriel.

But what else can either one of us do but hope they’re true?

The rest of the day is no better. Gabriel works, and I knit and brood. We eat a quiet dinner, and Gabriel doesn’t even go to bed at our normal time. He wants to keep working on the revisions he was ordered to make, so I go to sleep alone in my window alcove after letting my music box play a few times to comfort me.

It’s late. Very late—after midnight when I’m woken up by someone lightly shaking me by the shoulder.

It didn’t feel like I was sleeping soundly, but I must have been deep enough asleep that it takes a minute to fully orient myself. I blink. Stretch my neck. Pull away from the strong hand on my shoulder.

Gabriel.

It’s Gabriel who woke me up. He’s kneeling next to my window nook. “What’s going on?” I ask groggily. It smells like smoke in the room, but that can’t be right. Why would there be smoke? “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, baby. Can you wake up? I need to talk to you.”

My mind is still fuzzy, but I hear real urgency in his tone. I sit up and shake myself off. Swing my legs over the edge of the seat.

Gabriel remains kneeling in front of me, gazing up at my face. There’s tension in his mouth, his shoulders, his jaw. There’s something weirdly wild in his eyes.

“What is it?” I ask him, fully awake now and starting to tremble internally.

Something is about to happen. Something big.

I have no idea what it is.

I keep breathing in that smoky fragrance. Like a fire. What the hell could it be?

“I’m leaving,” he says with a lot of gravel in his voice.

“Wh-what?” I start to reach out for him, but he grabs my hands and holds them in both of his.

“Baby, just listen to me. I have to leave. Right now. I’ve done something, and if I don’t get away, they’re going to kill me for sure.”

I bite back a whimper. He needs me to be strong. Not fall apart no matter how much I’m tempted. “What did you do?” I whisper since he’s been speaking so softly.

“I…” He clears his throat. “I got into Vincent’s office and stole his copy of my plan.”

I try to inhale, but it lodges hard in my throat. Makes me choke.

“I burned it,” Gabriel goes on, nodding toward the fireplace against the far wall that’s never once been used. “His copy and mine. And all my notes. Everything. They’re all gone.”

“Wh—” I can’t seem to get a full word out. My vision is blurring, and my head spins. I cling to Gabriel’s hands desperately. If I don’t, I might actually fall over.

“I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to let them use my work to make the world worse. I won’t .” His hands and his arms and his chest have started to shake.

“But… but they’ll kill you! They’ll kill you for that!”

“No, they won’t. Not if I can get away. But I need to do it now. Now, before anyone realizes what I’ve done.”

“But you can’t run away! We would have done it days ago if we could have gotten across the border. How will you get through the checkpoints?”

“They’ll let me out of the city. I’ll make up some excuse. They won’t get the alert about me until Vincent discovers what I’ve done later this morning.”

“But how will you get across the border?” There’s a sob in my voice as I think about him out in the countryside, pursued by guards and threatened by bandits and with no way to defend himself.

“I’ve got a contact for a rebel group that’s been getting folks across. Hopefully they’ll help me. It’s dangerous, but I have no choice anymore. Every page of my work has been burned.”

“But—” A sob pushes its way through my throat. My whole body shakes with the spasms of emotion.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know it’s terrible. But I’m not going to let it happen. I’m not going to be the man they want me to be. I’m not going to go along with something so wrong just because it’s safer.” He lets go of my hands and reaches up to take my face in his hands. “Listen to me. All my work since I got here has gone up in smoke, but not yours. Everything you’ve done for me—everything you’ve given me—has not been burned to ashes like mine. I won’t let it be. All your care and generosity and sweetness and heart has not been poured into a void. I’m going to be the man you’ve believed me to be. I’m going to be the man you’ve made me. I’m going to do the right thing even if it kills me. And even if it means I lose you.”

I’m sobbing for real now, my eyes and nose running and helpless cries strangling in my throat. But I know what’s happening, and I know what I’m going to do. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming with you.” I pull my head out of his hands so I can stand up.

“No! No, baby. It’s too dangerous. I’m not going to let you get hurt or killed because of my decisions.” He sounds more scared now than I’ve ever heard him.

“But it will be just as dangerous for me to stay here! My fate is tied to yours now. They’ll believe I was part of it even if I wasn’t. They might try to use me to get to you. Or the president might make me one of his partners and take his anger at you out on me. Gabriel, please think. You can’t leave me here. There’s no way it will be safe.”

He stood up when I did, and he sways slightly as he processes my words. Then: “Okay. You’re right. You have to come with me. I’ll get you to your family. You should be safe there. Get dressed quick. Casual clothes you can walk a distance in.”

I’d much rather stay with Gabriel, but reaching my family is far better than staying here at the palace. This isn’t the time to argue or plead or make a case for how he should keep me as his partner. I do as he says, throwing on old trousers I haven’t worn since I came to the palace over a year ago and a dark top with my best walking shoes. I put on my locket and make sure the clasp is secure.

I’m braiding my hair as Gabriel finishes packing a bag with some essentials and what remains of the bread, meat, cheese, and fruit from our dinner.

I pick up my music box and wrap it in the mostly finished blanket I’ve been knitting for my grandfather. I also grab the sketch pad filled with my drawings from the past months. He slides my things into his bag as well.

Then he peeks out into the hallway. It must be empty, because he takes my hand and pulls me out of the door.

And that’s it.

It’s my 216th day as Gabriel’s partner, and our life at the palace—and my time as a partner—is over.