Chapter 16 Kali
KALI
Iawakened in the same godsdamned room in their compound. Evidently, I’d slept in, as the sun’s globe shone through the windows.
On the one hand, I wanted to continue wallowing in the luxurious fluffiness of the duvet that was more like a cloud and not a bedsheet. But on the other, the need to get back to my life sharply poked my side, nagging me to get moving.
Yawning, I threw the duvet aside as the last of summer’s heat turned my residence in the bed unwelcome. Fatigue swirled in my muscles, but I couldn’t stay in a foreign bed all day. Wiggling my toes, I savored the last few moments of rare comfort and jumped out of bed.
Stomping to the bathroom naked, I stretched my arms above my head and searched for the hideous set of a purple t-shirt and loose pants from last night.
They weren’t there.
Not confident enough to run outside my room without so much as underwear on, I returned to the bedroom and scratched my head at the neat pile of folded clothing lying at the foot of my large bed, right on the corner, where I couldn’t kick it off in my sleep.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I pulled the white t-shirt on without hesitation. Oversized, for sure, the fabric covering half of my ass, but it was better than nothing.
I searched for underwear, but the idiot who’d dared to venture into my room hadn’t considered bringing any. Unless the black cotton shorts, which were unmistakably a man’s, were supposed to serve as such. But I put them on. Again, not like I had a choice.
No choice in coming here, no choice in yesterday’s clothing, no choice in the food served to me at dinner, no choice in spending the night or not, and now no choice even in underwear.
Yay.
Slipping on a pair of gray sweatpants next, I tightened the drawstrings to ensure they stayed on my waist. The clothing was too small for Gedeon’s frame, so either he’d brought someone else’s clothing—didn’t sound likely—or two visitors had come here during the night. How had I not heard anyone?
On top of everything, my previously mottled black sneakers now waited by the door, clean and fresh. In addition to being scrubbed to the best they could look, the right one had a piece of paper sticking out of it.
Curiosity was my downfall, so I snatched it out of the shoe, rushing to read it like it would burn me if held for too long.
Little death, explore the compound.
Feel free to run away from me.
I would enjoy nothing more than chasing you when I return.
Gedeon. The arrogant prick hadn’t even signed it.
But his absence simplified my escape.
After using the bathroom, I peeked out the door and relaxed. Zion wasn’t in the hallway anymore.
Freedom.
I wandered down the hallway in search of a way down and out.
This time, the floor bustled with action.
People walked past me, polite greetings and all, and not a single one stopped me.
An older woman even pointed out a nondescript dark wood door that opened to the concrete stairwell I’d been hunting for and wished me luck.
What. The. Hell.
I counted the floors as I trudged down the stairs and emerged into another hallway, now brightly lit through the occasional windows making an appearance every few doors or so.
As the smell of butter wafted past me, my stomach grumbled.
Could I make a pit stop and grab something to eat before I left?
Gedeon was off somewhere, so I’d only have to sneak past Zion.
I could do that. Once I was back in the city, not a chance would remain for them to come after me. Ilasall would have updated their security system.
Saliva filled my mouth as the rich and sugary scent guided me to an open doorway. An enormous, shining kitchen took up the room. Huge, incomparably bigger than my apartment in the city, and in such a good condition, I wished mine would’ve looked half as good as this.
Along the far wall, multiple tables glinted in the sunlight streaming out of the large windows near them.
Harsh reflections bounced off the silver counter, but didn’t counteract the homey atmosphere, the coziness, the rich aroma of the large pile of golden pastries lying on the pale wood table, in front of the tiny woman I’d met yesterday.
“Are you hungry? I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea and warmed up some snacks. Do you want any?”
Before I could answer, Eislyn rushed to take a cup from the rack next to the sink and poured me a steaming serving of herbal tea as I slid into the seat across from her.
“Thank you.” The first sip of the hot liquid trickled down my throat, soothing and cleansing. Strong flavor, a drop of bitterness—heaven.
Good tea was too expensive in Ilasall. Things like these were intended for the rich, the green band wearers, not the rest of us.
Eislyn nudged the plate of baked goods toward me, and I hesitantly grabbed a chocolate croissant covered in sugar powder from the top of the pile.
The first flakes melting on my tongue tasted divine, and I stuffed a second flaky thing of pure goodness quickly, sucking my fingertips clean of the sweet crumbs.
Truly, they were incredible. Whoever had baked them deserved eternal glory.
Ease coated every inch of her as she gazed out the window, her knee bent and propped against the edge of the table, her open book forgotten on the windowsill.
The yellowed pages curled at the corners, and had splits at the bottom, the text faded where readers’ fingers had flipped through the sheets the most.
Everyone had eagerly pushed and pulled on me during dinner, but Eislyn wasn’t replicating that, leaving me to have my breakfast in peace. To be truthful, she’d been nothing but kind to me yesterday too. Never insistent, never teasing, never vexing.
As if prompted, she tucked a strand of her chocolate hair behind her ear, the ends of her bangs reaching her eyebrows. “Sorry, I sometimes lose myself in my thoughts.”
Thoughts, dreams, reality. No difference between the three.
If you lost yourself in one, you went astray in all.
Pain was the driver of everyone in this world.
Whether it made you build a protective wall of ice around yourself or openly revel in the scorching fire of cruelty, in the end, it served the same purpose.
You simply had to recognize it and use it to your advantage.
“I sometimes do too,” I confessed, clutching my cup of tea and savoring how the ceramic bordered on singeing my skin.
At least the pain meds I’d found in my bathroom hadn’t worn off yet.
Because the only thing that could make a nightmare-filled night better was waking up with your hand throbbing.
Such a lucky me to have experienced it. “But if there’s a tip I could give you, it’s don’t hide your pain.
” I downed my tea and licked my lips to collect the fleeing drops.
“Own it and turn it against them. Or they will take and take until you become devoid of anything but emotionless submission.” And I’d seen the vacant looks of such servants in Ilasall.
I wouldn’t wish such fate on my worst enemy.
Even they deserved more than that. “It doesn’t matter that you’re outside the city, if your mind is trapped. ”
Because my body might have been in this kitchen, but my mind strayed to Ilasall.
We both had a long journey to go, much longer than the length of a busy street outside the window.
Much more challenging than the potholes overflowing in greenery or the splits in asphalt marring the road.
With much more different goals compared to the people who were strolling around, carrying leather bags and wooden crates full of fruits, fabrics or glass jars, and pausing to unload at shops and stores and chat with the owners lingering in the doorways before moving forward to wherever their plans awaited them.
Some held their heads high and stood tall, some kept aside, slinking along the entryways marked with homemade signs and unmarked corners, and some fell somewhere in the middle.
The movement resembled the city, except here they didn’t seem divided.
Despite their differences, they interacted peacefully.
No threats, no riches, no wristbands.
“What’s your story? I don’t want to push… But not many understand what it’s like”—Eislyn rubbed her throat—“to be stuck.”
Had someone laid their hands on her dainty neck? I swore to myself to add them to the list of targets I’d be taking care of, like the Head of Ilasall.
Fiddling with the handle of my vivid green cup, I shrugged. “Nothing special.”
“I can tell that’s not true. You hold yourself differently.
” She closed her book. The cover was scratched up and faded, the once golden letters now a dull brown, blending with the rest of the design, once probably eye-catching and now indiscernible.
Catching me perusing, she blushed. “It’s, uhm, a horror romance story.
You can borrow it if you want. I’ve read it, like, five times by now. ”
Borrow it? She’d trust me with her possession without knowing me?
What would be the cost of that? Unwilling to agree to a bargain, I brushed her offer aside and rolled my lips, debating if I should share anything personal.
I’d stayed here longer than intended, but she held herself with such a similar kindness Alora had glowed with that my sneakers had fused to the floor with no give.
I sighed, and the flowing oxygen compelled me to answer her question honestly.
“I have inflicted pain on others, not only experienced it. I’ve used myself more times than I can count.
I’ve lied and stolen, fought tooth and nail, begged on my knees, and provided favors.
The only different thing about me is that I have deliberately sacrificed everything to get where I am.
” I paused, because the confession I was about to spill depicted my ultimate choice.
“And I wouldn’t change it if given an option. ”