Offense
Nye Verden—the New World—is a place of shadow and death. Of fate and destiny. Of monsters and villains. A place of opportunity. A place to conquer. To drain. To absorb.
“Europe?” I squeak, standing with her still attached to me like a monkey.
She lets out a very adorable giggle before standing.
“Europe,” she nods, switching off the showers at a control pad I hadn’t seen and pushing open the glass door.
“Like the place that got bombed into the stratosphere during the war?” I ask, following her into a surprisingly warm bathroom.
Her ass sways as she bends for a towel on a rack and I lose my train of thought.
Like holy shit?
“It was not destroyed as DAEMON would have you believe,” she says, turning to me. I’m not nearly as strong as she is and my eyes find her immaculate chest. “My eyes, Arya.”
My cheeks flush as I take the towel from her. She gives me a quirked smile, though, before wrapping herself in another.
“Can you explain or do I need to—” I stumble to a muted silence as I see the scene from what has to be her bedroom.
For some reason I guess I expected it to be a wasteland. Maybe because until four seconds ago, I’d thought most of Europe was underwater.
Because that’s what everyone in New America believes.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, staring out the floor to ceiling windows that cover the entire wall opposite of her bed.
The bedroom itself is a mixture of old-world rock and stone with the art deco you’d see in the New Republic.
And outside is a forested village with heavy tree canopy and stone buildings that look to be straight out of a fantasy book.
I walk forward, as if in a trance, before pausing at the window itself. No one appears to be in the small village, but it looks well-kept and maintained. Like it could be ready for inhabitants at any moment.
“My village,” Cass says, reverence in her voice.
There’s almost too much to take in. The way each wood and stone home sits with a regality you’d never find in Nye Verden. Or the way the central square has this small well with room for a market.
Or the way Cass’ presence beside me seems to radiate with warmth.
“How is this here?” I ask, trying to figure out how to word all the questions spinning in my mind.
“My powers are dangerous,” she says, turning her own hands over as if to find the lie. “Except one outcome to reality warping is construction, it seems.”
“So, you just,” I wave my hand with a flourish, “magic’d your village?”
She gives me a side-eye that I’d love to see for the rest of my life.
“What I can do does not happen like this,” she mocks my hand gesture.
“Well far be it from me to boil down your powers,” I press my lips to hers. “This is amazing.”
She leans in and for a long moment, I can just taste her spice. Her scent. Her presence.
“DAEMON wants everyone to believe Europe is dead,” she says when she pulls back. “Parts of it are certainly underwater. But Romania is not. Britain, last I checked, is not either. Though they are the only other resource for technology on this half of the world.”
“Romania,” I say, sounding the word out. “Is that your accent?”
She nods, eyes returning to the village. “It has gotten watered down over the years but…”
“I love it,” I say, leaning against her. I feel her intake a sharp breath, but then the rest of her words register.
“Wait there’s more people?”
She shoots me a grin before moving away from the window and to the closet on the other side of the room.
“A lot of them, actually,” she says pulling a few pairs of clothing out of a drawer. “The technology we use for medicine comes from them.”
“Who—” I begin, but something chirps in alarm near the bed.
Cass grunts in annoyance before grabbing a device off the bedside table. Her orange eyes flit back and forth as she reads. Her face falls with each line. Like she’s actively refitting her entire personality to fit Bloody Mary. Not Cassandra Alta.
“We are needed back at the Citadel,” she says, voice hoarse with something I can’t identify. “Gareth was working with DAEMON to draw up plans for the Citadel. Which means—”
“Oh fuck,” I grunt, remembering what Varun had ‘said.’
“What?” she asks, tossing me the extra clothes.
“Varun said there was going to be an attack. Well, I got him to nod when I asked. He 'nodded' that we still have time, though.”
Cass grunts and stands before me as I slip on the joggers.
“I want to show you everything,” she says quickly, chewing on her lip. “We will have time.”
“I believe you,” I say and she gives me a relieved grin before stepping past.
“How do we—” I turn to follow and see her drawing out a square of red in the air.
Like Darkrend’s portals.
“You first,” she says as the square completes.
It pops like built up air pressure and I see the Cradle’s office.
“I—” I pause, not what to say. Not sure if this is the right time.
Not sure if she feels the same.
But as fast as it is, as many times as I’ve been unsure of everything in the last few weeks, this feels right. It finally feels right. Like that final barrier is gone.
“Later,” she says, giving me a soft look that says she might already know.
I step through and stumble a little as both gravity and a difference in elevation strike me.
“That’s fucking weird,” I mumble moving to the door when I hear Cass’ feet hit the stone beside me.
We walk into what has to be a war council. The entire room is filled with archons with all but two of the councilors at their respective spots.
“Take one of the two open seats,” she says, nodding to the newly vacated chairs.
I give her a raised eyebrow, but her no-nonsense face silences my protests.
The two seats weren’t even used by the Varun and Gareth long enough for them to bear any of their personality.
I sit in Loki’s because, honestly, that guy was a twat, and this feels right.
“Archons,” the voice of an empress rolls through the room. “Two of our own were found to have been in league with DAEMON and Darkrend.”
There’s a hushed whisper through the archons; they don’t look at her though.
They’re looking at me.
“Yes,” Cass says, turning to face me. “Four of our council members have been killed in as many weeks.”
It’s hard to rectify the gorgeous, vulnerable woman I know with the one who studies me now with veneration and a malicious glee.
She’s looking at me like I’m the savior of her people and the end to her enemies.
No.
The savior of our people and the end to our enemies.
This is my home now, too.
“I no longer wish to accept those who seek to destroy us and our people. Though I do not need the councilors’ approval, I ask that they support me in honoring Hiraeth as councilor.”
She’s met with an immediate, and unanimous chorus of “aye’s.”
A warmth blossoms in my chest. At the acceptance by people who, honestly, shouldn’t yet trust me.
But I suppose I paid for it with blood. Just as Cass had.
“We will begin our offensive strategy momentarily, but I want to clear up another mistake that was made by the late Gareth von Kemp.”
She appears beside me. No fun hand movements. No visible rift. Just there.
“Kiss me,” she breathes and I stand quickly and pull her into me.
Her teeth click against mine like the kiss itself may solve all of our problems.
And it certainly might with the way my legs wobble.
There’s a whisper of remarks I can’t quite hear over the sound of my own libido screaming to tear her clothes off.
But I do hear a smattering of cheers with some applause. A wolf whistle, too.
“Now,” Cass says, pulling back, her smile momentarily hers before it turns back to Bloody Mary’s, “Hiraeth and I are going to pay a visit to DAEMON.”