Interlude II
A new beginning
I want her to be mine. She may not understand at first, and I fear I have already scared her, but I need her in my life as more than an ally.
I need her like I need the very air itself.
My soul resonates when it is within her orbit, it is only by the grace of Fate herself that my will has not yet crumbled. That I have not yet marked her as mine.
“You broke me,” Arya moans, letting me take her weight. “I can’t feel my legs.”
I let out a chuckle as I pull her closer, feeling the way her body slots against mine. Like she was made for me—and I for her.
“You did not make the trip to the Cradle for this, I presume?” I ask after Arya’s breathing finally regulates.
“Oh,” she gasps out and nearly stumbles backwards into the shelf before I catch her. “Right, yeah.”
“So?” I ask, and she stares up at me like her brain hasn’t yet caught up with the last few minutes.
She blinks a few times and nods again.
“Traitors,” she gasps, grabbing for her pocket. I watch her pull out a dPhone and thumb through it.
She passes me the device, and I frown down at the photos.
The structure of the room tells me it’s in the main dormitory—the one Arya is staying in. But it looks very obviously modified to fit the occupants needs.
Each wall in each photo is lined with maps of New Chicago, the Citadel, and one that looks suspiciously like the Western Alliance. And the tables pictured are littered with tech that Bast and her people were developing.
Except, again, they look modified to fit whoever the occupant is.
“I know,” I say, handing the phone back. “It is Gareth and Varun’s people.”
Arya’s hazy, sublime expression cracks as she frowns at me.
“You know?” she asks, sounding a little bit exasperated. “You know traitors were just elected to our Council and you’re cool with that?”
I circle the desk in the center of the room and sit, gesturing for Arya to do the same. She glares at me before moving to the chair across from me but continues to stand.
“Not ‘cool’ with it, but—” I hum out a little. “What is that saying?”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” she grits, definitely upset now. “Cass, I—”
I raise my hand and again gesture for her to sit. “Let me explain.”
She ignores the offered chair, continuing to stare daggers at me.
So much for the post-coitus haze.
“Gareth’s ego blinds him, but he is dangerous.
The same goes for Varun. Neither of them are the ringleaders, though.
And eliminating them will only spur on talk of revolution.
As it is, we are fighting a two-front war.
One is against Darkrend, DAEMON, and whoever else has yet to show themselves. The other is against my—our people.”
Arya runs her hands through her long, gorgeous hair and presses her palms to her eyes.
Then she lets out a scream.
“I am sick of the politics, Cass,” she heaves out what could be a manic laugh, but I don’t stop her this time. “I get it, I do. I get the fact that this is a large monster. There are snakes in every crevice. I get it.”
She sweeps a hand around at me and the somewhat lavish office.
“But I am this close to going out there and tearing apart every asshole who looks at me the wrong way.” She pinches her index and thumb together.
“There are regular people here, Cass. Marla, Trish, and everyone else like them are relying on me to look out for them because they’re worried the Council won’t. ”
Her breaths come out as pants. Like she might just literally phase through the floor and make good on her threat.
And she would be successful too.
“That is not your responsibility, my—” I pause and reel back the term I was about to use. “My dear.”
“Yes, it is,” she growls, voice deepening a bit. “You have your job to do here. You are their fearless, unflappable leader. You are their goddess in every sense of the word. But they—”
She lets out a huff, and her gunmetal grey eyes shine with tears.
“What?” I ask, my own voice quiet, like it may break whatever fresh honesty is between us now.
Her throat bobs, but she lets out a slow breath.
“I just keep thinking about the little drawings on their fridge. The ones their three-year-old drew,” Arya’s voice cracks, and she finally slides into the chair. “And I’ve met some of Rey’s friends, and they’re all like her. They’re so full of life and love and—”
Her head drops into her hands, and I nearly tip my chair as I hurry to her side, dropping to my knees.
“Arya?” I whisper, and she laughs out, raising her face to mine.
Her eyes are red rimmed; tears trace her cheeks.
“I’ve never had a family, Cass,” she breathes out. “And since getting here, all I know is that I can’t lose the one I’ve found.”
My thumb brushes at her soft cheek, and she leans into my palm—the intimate act nearly stunning me into silence.
“Every time I think I have a measure of your bravery and honor, I am proven the fool,” I say, studying her tearful eyes. “I will have to thank Marla and her wife for doing what I was too cowardly to do.”
“What?” she asks, platinum brows scrunching.
“I had no idea how to tell you everything without alerting Darkrend’s spies and the revolutionaries,” I say, squeezing my eyes tight. I don’t wish to watch the way she reacts to my admissions. “I wasn’t ever going to reveal my affections. But—”
She shifts, and I let her pull me into her lap, reveling in the way we fit so perfectly.
“But?” she prompts, and I huff out a laugh at the reversal now.
“But I was wrong, and I cannot begin to express how thankful I am that you’ve found your place here.”
She grins a little, but it’s still watery. Still upset.
“Cass—” She begins and I nod quickly, wrapping my arms around her neck.
“I trust you to do what is right,” I whisper, and press my lips to hers.
She lets out a soft groan, and I cannot help the way my hips shift against hers.
“If you decide it is time to bathe the earth in their blood,” I say into the infinitesimally small space between our lips. “I will be there to ensure no magic can bring them back.”
I feel the way her spine loosens at my words.
“And then I will wash the blood from your skin and hold you while you recover,” I continue, and she grins brighter this time, cheeks pink.
“Can I ask you something?” she says after studying me for a long moment.
I nod, pressing my lips to her forehead. Her scent is almost nauseating in how intoxicating it is.
“What exactly are your powers?”
Panic settles low in my chest, threatening to unravel the progress I’ve already made. I knew this would be an inevitable question, but yet it feels like a stone thrown into a calm lake.
“That’s a difficult question to answer,” I say, and already see her mind working.
“Fine,” she says, not unkindly, but as though she’s trying to work out a way to ask indirectly. “Why are there revolutionaries?”
“I will explain my powers to you,” I say, and watch her forehead loosen slightly. “It will just take a lot of explaining and I wish to do that in a more comfortable place.”
She frowns, but I press on.
“And as for the revolutionaries,” I blow out a short breath. “Gareth is working with Darkrend. That much I know. Varun is a Dhampir, and they’ve never liked me.”
“A damn what?”
I let out a bark of surprised laughter, and her grey eyes crinkle.
“They are the human-hybrid cousins of the vampire,” I say, cringing a little at the word, but Arya’s contemplative expression doesn’t seem to catch it. “And they have not cared for my leadership.”
She nods slowly, and I can tell she wants to ask more.
But more leads to things I do not wish to explain. Not tonight, at least. It feels like a lie by omission, and it sickens me.
“Will you stay the night?” I ask, and her jaw sags for a moment before she nods quickly.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she says, and I roll my eyes.
“I will happily get you anything you desire. And, tomorrow, we can talk about my powers.”