Chapter 40 Zion #2
“She’s broken.” A flurry of colorful withering leaves swirled around my ankles, carried by the breeze signaling the end of autumn was near.
“I know it because she’s like me. Lost and unfixable.
” That was how it felt. Part of you stuck on the day everything had changed, and part of you living out the current day, the distance of time tearing you apart into shreds, the sole reprieve causing others to scream and beg so you didn’t have to hear your own voice.
“She keeps repeating she’s here because of a deal.
That she’s trading herself for what she calls our compound’s army.
Offering her body in exchange for our help. ”
“Zion, I’ve known you since we were kids, and I don’t doubt you don’t use her like that.
But acceptance is a tough choice to make.
Because it is a choice. Moving forward and believing you deserve more than survival is a tough pill to swallow.
It takes time.” Damia grimaced from how the first sip must’ve burned her tongue.
“Like this cup of tea.” She put it down on the polished surface of the bench.
“Right now, it’s too hot to drink. The tea is practically boiling.
But give it a minute, two or three, and the temperature will go down.
Same with Kali. She hasn’t had a good life.
Neither of us has. But she will cool down in time and her mind will clear up enough to see.
Then she will choose,” she said, gazing into her yard.
A strong gust of wind moved the set of swings, and the withering foliage of an old oak rustled, complimenting the creaking of the hinges. A dozen leaves floated down to the gnarled roots peeking out of the soil.
Damia didn’t push me to talk, didn’t require an answer, didn’t seek to fix me. She simply sat beside me in silent comfort, unfazed by my internal conflict gutting me with the knife Kali had deciphered to be the blade that took my sister’s life. The one Gedeon had been side-eyeing since.
“How is Gedeon, by the way?” Bending her knee, Damia rested her foot on the bench and reclined against the wall, her cream-colored sweater snagging on the uneven surface, the bumps having formed from the multiple layers of paint.
“Stubborn.” A game match I could never win.
“He’s not blind,” she said, then added, “Okay, maybe he is. He can act like an idiot sometimes. Like you. And don’t deny it.
You both have done some incredibly stupid things.
But that”—she indicated my burn scars hidden by the long sleeves—“messed with his head as much as it did with yours. Give him time too. Eventually, he’ll come to it.
I know you both too well. My tea has cooled down enough to see it.
” She nudged my side with an elbow and wiggled her eyebrows. “See what I did there?”
I snorted. Her sense of humor was truly terrible. Horrible. Spectacularly so.
“I do.” I sipped from my cup, savoring the heat flowing down my throat and wishing the bitterness could wash away the taste of the twelve years I’d spent with the scars I’d received for seeking to save my family. “Thank you.”
“That’s why we stick together.” She smiled lopsidedly, just like when we were teenagers, and she’d come up with something mischievous that would get us in trouble later. “And I know my joke was terrible, so please don’t tell anyone about it.”
I snorted again. She’d always made me feel at ease. Even after I’d developed my…more flavorful tendencies.
“Have you resumed your operations?” I asked.
“Yes. We’ve had two successful runs as of two days ago, and Ardaton doesn’t seem to have realized we’ve cracked their security yet.”
“That’s great.” It demonstrated that the programming worked. If Sadira, Ryder, and their team could manage to adapt it to our chips and Ilasall’s systems, we could stop the next auction scheduled in two weeks.
“It is,” Damia murmured. From her relaxed posture, most would guess she was content. But it was control, her ability to appear calm on the outside, no matter the events.
I put down the cup. “Damia, tell me. You know I’ll take care of it.”
She gave me a faint smile. “We’re too big. We can’t screen each person escaping from Ardaton. Or coming to us from the other compounds. How would we even approach it?”
A gust of wind sucked the warmth from my palms. “Who died?”
“No one. So far.” She toyed with her clay cup, tracing the image painted on it.
“A person who’s been with us for years, one on my closest team, attacked my daughter.
Three nights ago, he slunk into her bedroom and attempted to slit her throat.
” She blew a heavy breath. “Nara knew enough to defend herself and managed to kick him out through an open window.”
“Who? Tell me who, and I’ll make sure they stay in my underground alive for as long as you wish for me to play with them.”
“He’s been taken care of. But thank you for the offer.
” She stroked the wobbly lines making up the drawing of their house.
“I’m telling you this because you have to ask yourselves if you can trust everyone around you.
I thought I could. But I don’t know anymore.
Anyone we have smuggled out of Ardaton could be another traitor, waiting for the right occasion to jump us.
If not, they could be feeding information about us to them. And we wouldn’t know.”
“Shit.” I was glad I wasn’t holding the cup anymore or I would've shattered the ceramic.
“Exactly.”
“There is something you should know too.” I rested my elbows on my thighs.
The strap holding my sheathed knife tightened around my upper arm, and the pinch brought back the memory.
“We had a similar situation. About two months ago, a soldier from Ilasall came, also during the night. He tried to kill Gedeon and left messages in my and Kali’s rooms to show that they knew who we were. ”
“They’re testing us.” Damia rose and dusted off her clothes. “I have to warn Conall to be ready. He’ll be next. Coriattus won’t spare them.”
“If the city comes after the four of them, then it’s a pattern.” Two might have been a coincidence, but three was a certainty.
She gathered our cups and spilled my unfinished tea on the grass. The liquid flooded the dying plants, ensuring their end. “And that’s how it begins.”