17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter seventeen
B lossom confiscated the last of my third drink before I could finish it – perhaps the rate at which I was drinking, in the awkward lack of engagement from Quillian, was more obvious than I thought. Now, she and River walk me back to our apartment, River a length behind us. Linking my arm in Blossom’s as we walk, I lift my face to the night sky.
‘You know, I never thought I’d say this so genuinely,’ Bloss says quietly, although not quietly enough for River to not be included in the conversation. ‘But that Finn … he seems quite lovely. Gentle, even.’
Gentle. I mull it over for a moment. I wouldn’t have described any of the prisoners that way either. They’re all different in their own ways, some of them soft. But no, not gentle. So I can appreciate the touch of surprise in Blossom’s tone.
‘I will forever be grateful he appears when he does. That other fucking man …’ She physically shudders against me as she lets the rest go unsaid.
River’s face is stone when I glance over my shoulder.
‘Why he couldn’t be one that turns up dead, I don’t know,’ I whisper fiercely. ‘Quillian said he was going to increase security around you – him – I’ll raise it again. But, for now, you don’t go anywhere without one of us, okay?’
It’s her turn to glance back at River and a faint blush dusts her cheeks.
But her silent nod of agreement is shadowed in sadness.
River sees us back to our room, making sure the door is locked on his way out. I don’t tell him that I’ll be sneaking out to see Cortane before the sun rises. Perhaps I could ask her to … dispatch Davorous the same way she did Kasera? Or Nix did Aiten? But would it be easier or harder to watch River or Nix say yes to killing someone? And something tells me that no matter what price Cortane might ask, the cost would still be less.
I sigh heavily, knowing it’s literally my duty to seek out Janly and get the full report on Aiten’s death. An update, so I can update Quillian, who can update Traelen. A chain of information that’s wearing on me simply by being a link in it.
‘You really like him, don’t you?’ Blossom asks, her head resting on the back of the couch, brown curls spilling out to the side. I don’t have to ask who she means.
I laugh, the falseness of the sound clear in our quiet apartment.
‘What a time to start developing feelings for someone, right?’
Even as the words come out, I know they’re not the most important ones. The real reason my interest in Quillian is such a bad idea is because, while I am performing my duty with him impeccably on one hand, I am actively trying to secure a way off the island, and out of Quillian’s prison, for two people I care about deeply – people Quillian clearly knows somehow. A way that currently requires me to give a highly dangerous individual information about him. A way that leaves me torn between saving Nix and River and trusting Nix’s judgement on Quillian, or trusting my own instincts about him and condemning Nix and River because of it.
Not that he knows I am also trying to save him from Cortane and whatever her interest in him is. The coldness that emanates from her is more than enough for me to know that her attention would be far different from mine.
But I already know I somehow need to tell her I am refusing to give her what she wants.
By now I’d hoped I would have a game plan for the next meeting with Cortane. A way to distract her from Quillian without jeopardising the exit strategy she offers for River and Nix. Instead, I have a still-burning belief that Claudius brought Nix and River here for good reason, a belief they seem to share so strongly they’re genuinely prepared for whatever the consequences might be. And the knowledge that Quillian looked at them so differently than he does the prisoners – whatever their history, he certainly doesn’t loathe them in the same way.
When I left Cortane the first time, I felt like I’d started to live two versions of myself. But, as I let my belief in Claudius, Nix and River, and my feelings for Quillian, expand in my chest, I can’t help but feel I am already further across the middle line of those two halves than I ever would have thought.
Blossom’s slowing breathing is soft next to me on the couch, mirroring the gently swaying sheer curtains that frame the night outside. As I let the sound of her sleeping wash around me, I feel no doubt in my decision not to give Cortane anything that could hurt Quillian. But, in the absence of that, I do need to offer her something.
But all I have is my own truth.
If I am brave enough to use it.
The garden is as quiet as expected when I cross, any gatherings here after the dinner well and truly finished, or moved to closer quarters. I’m faster at the crossing this time, wondering again why I’ve never seen any guards on this side of the prison. Maybe they don’t have them. It’s bright enough for all movement to be monitored but no one has picked me up.
Yet.
Cortane is waiting in the alcove as normal and I hope Blossom finds my note before she worries about where I am when she wakes. Cortane’s shaved head shines in the light behind her, like she wears a halo.
‘Well?’ she asks, clearly having no interest in small talk.
I draw a deep breath, hoping she can’t see the shaking of my fingers.
‘I’m not going to give you anything on the new Warden,’ I say, careful not to use his name.
‘Oh?’ her voice spikes in surprise.
I don’t comment.
‘I thought you wanted my help,’ she says.
‘I do. But I gave you information once and someone – at least one – ended up dead.’
I look at her while she assesses me.
‘So he’s gone, too?’ she asks, and my chest compresses a little at the final confirmation that it was not Cortane who killed Aiten Gall.
Silence is my only response. Not because I think it’s a good strategy, necessarily, but I don’t know how else to quell the maelstrom that’s building under my skin. Part of me knows I should feel bad about people dying. Should be angry that they were dealt with outside of our justice system, because that’s not fair to them. But the injustice of people like Nix, River, and Quillian being forced to take action when our government won’t, is what tears me up the most. The knowledge that there is nothing fair about what is happening up here and the fallout it is creating in our lives.
But I don’t – can’t – voice any of that. So I swallow and focus on the prisoner in front of me. This woman should be the enemy – she is in Vana, after all, where they put the worst of the worst. But Kasera was keeping child slaves and she was in my prison, living in luxury. Perhaps Aiten was equally as awful? And clearly the Warden wanted Cortane out of here – so similar to his desire to get me off the island as well. How bad does that mean she can be? Or did Vana make her this way?
And yet here I am, having tried to forge an alliance of sorts with her – still trying.
‘You realise information on the Warden was part of the cost of my help?’ she asks. ‘Without which you and your friends can’t leave.’
I try to swallow but my throat is thickening. Of course she would know ‘the soldiers’ we talked about previously are important to me, why else would I be here?
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But there is still the matter that you need me. Even if I don’t know what for, exactly, I can see in your face you don’t want me to walk away as much as I don’t want to.’
She scoffs. ‘I can walk away any time I like, Princess. Claudius sent you here so you could help me, maybe – yes. But it’s you he sent here to prove yourself, to prove the colour of your soul. He might have thought you were on your way, but he left it to me to decide. So you can choose now – stop hiding, think for yourself, tell me something real , and I’ll decide. If you’re worthy, maybe I will get your soldiers off this island before they land in this prison with me.’
I don’t bother trying to hide the long exhale that leaves me. Or the way I have to press my fingertips into my temples to try and quell the noise in my head.
Prove my worth—
The colour of what?
All I have is the truth.
I could lie, I suppose, but what would that achieve? Turning my gaze back to Cortane, I assess her flat, hazel eyes.
Not once did Claudius ever ask me to lie.
‘I was supposed to be collected at the end of my duty,’ I say wearily. ‘But my collector turned up in the next intake, along with his brother. Claudius was expecting me to be on the mainland and them to be in Zanteera prison, not the three of us here together. He sent me to meet with you in place of one of them – less conspicuous for a concierge to get to you, maybe.’ I pause, thinking back to that last conversation with Claudius in a slightly different light and seeing for the first time the desperate, but hopeful, look in his eyes as he told us of Cortane. ‘I think, maybe, he also wanted us to meet, for me to gain your trust and help you find a way for them – and you – to get off the island.’
I catch the hardness in the line of her jaw, as if she’s clenching her teeth. I watch her carefully as I tell the rest – that Traelen thinks I was extended and, officially, I am due to finish that extension and take up a recommendation in Parliament as a ‘contact’ for something I don’t really understand. That I know the soldiers we have spoken of have tasks they need to do here – ‘tasks’ that seem to be assassinating particular individuals – before they can leave, but I’m terrified Traelen will transfer them to Vana first and either they, or Cortane and I, won’t be ready to get off the island.
I tell her that I understand Kasera wasn’t a good person but that I truly believe Quillian is. And that, even with the knowledge I could be condemning Nix and River to a lifetime of Vana, I can’t condemn Quillian to death.
‘That’s a lot,’ she says eventually, letting the moment stretch between us. ‘But I will honour your truth with a little one of my own – not all of that is news to me.’
I don’t even feel an echo of surprise. ‘I know this is all connected somehow, I’m just missing the links.’
‘And you still don’t want to tell me anything about the Warden? Even if it would give you the pieces you’re lacking.’
It’s not something I need to think twice about. Not because I care more for him than Nix and River, but because I still need them to care for me. But also because I still need to care for me. They are here, doing something they believe in, and I need to do what I believe in, too. And volunteering up a good man, despite Nix’s anger at him, is not something I can do.
‘No.’ I drag myself to my feet, hunching in the small space. ‘Thanks for your time.’
‘It’s done,’ I tell Blossom when I appear back in our apartment as she prepares the tipples. ‘I told Cortane I wouldn’t give her anything on Quillian.’
She exhales heavily as if she understands, but doesn’t necessarily agree with why I needed to have that discussion with Cortane on my own. ‘Now what?’
I drop into a bench stool and let my head sink to the cool marble countertop.
Fuck.
I just saved one man only to condemn two. Those numbers don’t add up. But it didn’t the other way, either.
Banging my forehead on the marble as Blossom’s question – now what? – screams in my mind, I groan and jerk upright. ‘Shit, Bloss, I don’t know. What did I do? What do I do?’
Shoving the stool backwards, I pace the living room. Cortane killing Quillian wasn’t an option, I stand by that. Nix and River going to Vana is also not an option, I still believe that. But I’ve just blown the second by achieving the first.
Think, Luka, I scream silently clutching at the back of my head.
‘Luka,’ Bloss says gently, coming around the kitchen bench, ‘we can figure this out. We know the brothers weren’t going to go anywhere until they’re done, anyway, and you’ve bought Quillian some time. What would Claudius have done?’
I stare at her, my hands dropping back to my sides. If he was here, what would he have done? Probably stayed on as Warden.
If not that …
He would have left with Traelen via the receiving plane, or …
‘The portal in the Warden’s residence,’ I say, pausing my steps to look at Bloss.
She nods in agreement, her curls bouncing a little as her thoughts seem to be whirling like my own. ‘Yes … I think we might have to chance that.’
‘How do we know where it goes? Where would they end up?’
‘We don’t. Nor do we know if they will be marked by going through it. That said, it’s already an official portal so perhaps it’s exempt from the wards already.’
Bloss stares at the floor for a moment, as if she’s still absorbing the possibilities. The Warden’s portal isn’t new to us, but it’s one I’ve never seen – nor have any idea how to use. Nor do I know if it arrives somewhere helpful, or somewhere full of Hunters.
‘If it was that easy, though,’ she says, ‘how come he said we need Cortane?’
I blow out a breath, furiously hoping I haven’t blown my only chance to get Nix and River off the island by not giving Quillian to Cortane.
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘If only one of us was a fucking Shaide.’
She watches me for a moment. ‘Maybe … you could see what information you can get from Quillian about the portal in the Residence?’
‘I don’t want to play him, Bloss,’ I say, moving to the stool I left behind and dragging it back to the bench to sit down.
Blossom walks to the kitchen and places the three etched glasses in front of me on the white stone bench.
‘I know,’ she says, ‘and I know it’s not ideal to suggest you do. But you do need to tread carefully until you are absolutely sure what he stands for, and if it’s something you can be on board with.’
She says it like it’s something she’s said, or at least thought, a hundred times before. I cock my head at her in question.
‘And you?’ I ask.
She places both hands on the bench, ‘I will do the same,’ she says, pointing to the tipples before us. ‘Time to face what scares us.’
The tipples that represent so much of what we’ve given here, as well as the reality our work day is just beginning. And, until we know exactly how all the pieces fit together, including ourselves, we need to remain part of that picture.
After a moment, I pick up the first. Birth control.
Up. Throw back. Down. Clink.
I look at Blossom as I pick up the second, the immune booster.
Up. Throw back. Down. Clink.
She waits for me while I pick up the last, ready to start our day of work. But the bitter tipple of magic inhibitor stops halfway to my mouth. Slowly, I lower it back down without drinking.
Blossom watches me.
‘Who will actually know if we stop taking this?’ I ask.
Blossom and I smile at each other as I tip the contents down the sink and she follows suit. A secret rebellion just between the two of us.
We’re slightly late and the room is already full of the concierge teams helping themselves to Koko’s breakfast spread. Their voices buzz around me and, for the first time in a long time, I really pay attention to the happiness here. There’s a soft sadness in some of the faces, the clear missing of their loved ones and lives back home, but the joy is genuine. There’s a purposefulness in the air, a sense of achievement. And our duties are that much of the time – purposeful, relatively easy and, at times, fun. Genuine friendships, and sometimes more, are made here.
But Kasera, for all her primping around Claudius, and the superiority that exuded from her, was actually one of the worst kinds of people. Part of me wanted to believe it was a mistake she was here and not in Vana. But the fire in Quillian’s voice when he told me of her was clear – her being here in this prison, that is far more like a resort, was no mistake.
Which not only opened the question of why all the others are here, something that goes around and around in my mind on an endless loop, but, more specifically, why was Aiten here and was that the reason for his death?
Quillian is standing at the board, at the far end of the room, and my breath hitches at the sight of his broad, muscled back. He turns towards the room as I watch, attention landing on me and then sliding away again.
Talk to him.
Blossom gives my hand a quick squeeze as I leave her to take my own place before the board, seeking out Janly on the way for her update.
‘Davorous is chafing against the extra attention,’ she says by way of greeting. She glances around quickly, lowering her voice as she walks beside me through the room. ‘Finn is actually being quite helpful with that,’ she says, looking sideways at me as if waiting for my reaction. ‘He always seems to just appear whenever Davorous is asking about Bloss or looking for her.’
Her coarse, grey hair swings heavily around her jawline as she lowers her head towards my shoulder a fraction.
‘It’s a bit uncanny really,’ she says, ‘like he has some extra sense we don’t know about.’
Emeris talks to Quillian and, from where he stands in my vision, the Warden seems to be doing the same thing as me. Watching without looking.
Face what scares us, Blossom had said. So did Cortane in a … slightly more roundabout way.
‘Blossom has talked of Finn too, actually,’ I say to Janly. ‘But we can’t rely on another prisoner to keep Bloss safe. I’ll talk to Quillian again. Also, what’s the update on Aiten?’
‘Aiten Gall,’ she says slowly. There’s almost a touch of bitterness in her voice as she repeats his name, but there’s nothing on her kind face that confirms I heard it. ‘The healers are working on identifying the cause of death but it doesn’t appear obvious at this point.’
I can’t help the uneasy sensation in my stomach as she confirms it again. Janly’s words feel like they’re being carefully chosen, but I immediately think of Claudius and what his next of kin would have been told about his death. He seemed so … undisturbed.
‘Jan,’ I say quietly, my throat thick. ‘Claudius, did they …?’
Janly’s eyes are gently lined with tears as she looks at me and swallows.
‘No, dear,’ she says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘I know, unequivocally, there was no foul play there.’
I grip her hand, steadying myself against the rush of opposing emotions in my chest. On one hand, knowing he definitely wasn’t murdered is a balm on the still burning pain of his loss. On the other, not knowing exactly what happened opens a pit underneath the wound that’s slowly filling with all the things I don’t know. Things I don’t know but feel like are guiding me somehow.
The concierges start to quieten as my time to talk through the board draws nearer, but I stare at Janly before chancing one last question. ‘Do you know why Aiten was here?’
She looks back at me, her features unreadable. ‘You mean the announcements when he arrived?’
‘No,’ I breathe.
For a moment, the room seems to still around us and I wonder if I have made a mistake by raising this with her. But her grip on my arm tightens a little.
‘Sex trafficking.’
My skin crawls. How many times did I smile at that man? Make sure he had adequate time in the playroom? Order him the finest bed linens? Spray his room with perfume before he retired in the evenings?
‘What is happening here?’ I ask, my voice no more than a whisper.
‘Here? We are about to do our check-in. That’s where you need to focus right now. Then you ask those questions of everything you see. Quietly.’
I mentally shake myself as Janly gently draws me closer to the front of the room, less than a handful of steps away from Quillian and Emeris, quietly chattering by my side.
‘—they’re trying not to let it show,’ she’s saying, as if that’s the conversation we’ve been having, and I make myself look to the board, like I’m preparing for today. ‘But the prisoners are skittish with these deaths. Traelen has been notified and will be along in due course.’
I try to clear my throat; I am in way over my head.
I feel rather than see Quillian’s focus on me and I can’t stop myself from meeting it head on. The gentle, but insistent, tugging between my breasts makes me look.
In a number of ways, he’d said he’d known Claudius.
Claudius was expecting Nix and River. Was he also expecting Quillian here? Was he expecting him as … Warden?
The enormity of that possibility threatens to drag me under and I try to hold on to the sounds I can hear around me. But they all seem to fade away … did Claudius purposefully die to make way for Quillian? For that to even have a chance of working, the organisation, the planning, the steps that would have needed to occur are staggering.
Sweat prickles my forehead as Quillian remains watching me. As if he can see what I’m piecing together and doesn’t want to interfere. Like he’s waiting again. For my reaction. My judgement. Just like he did when he declared his hand on his views of this prison.
‘Luka?’ Janly asks as we arrive at the board. ‘Are you okay?’
Quillian’s brow is etched in worry as he waits for me to work this through. As I search him for the answer I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.
‘Luka?’ Janly asks again, and the sounds around me slowly come back into focus.
‘Yes,’ I mutter, almost painfully dragging my gaze from Quillian’s to address her. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about the deaths,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s awful.’
The last bit is added as an afterthought but she just nods sombrely.
She goes on to list the issues and requests that have come from the prisoners overnight. New pillows, the week old ones now too uncomfortable. A different fragrance for their balcony – I happen to agree jasmine isn’t the most wonderful scent, but hard to change all the plantings of the prison for one person. Exclusive use of the playroom for a particular threesome.
As she talks, listing the things that have been discussed, things we would normally do everything in our power to deliver on, my jaw clenches harder. My teeth pressing together uncomfortably.
How many of those requests had come from Kasera in the past? Aiten? How many did I personally see to delivering for them? The vision of the dart in Kasera’s eye no longer makes my stomach churn, but an indignant burn takes place in my chest instead.
She should have been properly punished for what she did to those children.
Then … perhaps she almost was.
Was Aiten?
Quillian watches me as he now also listens to Janly’s handover from last night, every fibre of my body aware of his presence and its distance from me. Completely absorbed in wondering who Quillian was to Claudius for Claudius to have possibly gone to the most extreme lengths to get him here.
Why, if Claudius was also supporting Cortane, did she want information on Quillian?