CHAPTER FOUR #2
“No, I don’t ‘know.’ He could’ve been about to say anything.” I’m not sure why I bothered disagreeing with her. As usual, she was probably right.
“One of these days, Maila,” she said in a sing-song voice, wagging her finger at me. She reached in her bag to pull out her umbrella, and I did the same. “You two lovebirds are finally going to get together, and I’m going to take all the credit.”
I rolled my eyes and followed her out the door.
She was right, wasn’t she? Zander was attracted to me, and I could acknowledge that he was handsome.
Considering how much time I had spent alone over the years, I should be jumping at the opportunity for companionship.
Not only that, but at twenty years old, the extent of my romantic experience was a fumbling first time with a guy from the Agricultural Preservation department and a brief relationship with a colleague of Brielle’s in Culinary Preservation that was equally anticlimactic.
Did reminiscing on those experiences feed my late-night fantasies? No.
But were my experiences pretty standard considering our limited options? Yes.
The fact that I would even think of our choice of partners in Cyllene as being “limited” was a glaring sign of Irene’s influence. I should have considered myself fortunate to have someone I found even the slightest bit attractive interested in me.
Rather than dreaming of an all-consuming romance like the stories from Irene’s books, I needed to focus on reality. On what—and who—was right in front of me, presenting a perfectly attainable, and probably perfectly pleasant, opportunity for companionship.
As I braced my umbrella against the rain, feeling the mist against my cheek, I wondered why I still couldn’t quite convince myself of that.
That evening, Brielle invited me over for dinner at her apartment.
The meal was incredible, as always. Chicken stuffed with ham and goat cheese, which Brielle claimed was the perfect hearty entree for a rainy day.
Roasted broccoli, which only Brielle could prepare in such a way that it rivaled the main course.
And, keeping with the theme of warmth and comfort, fresh oatmeal cookies for dessert.
The cookies were so rich that I could only eat two before I had to admit defeat.
As I walked down the stairs and back to my place, I marveled again at how fortunate I was to have a friend who had a fully functioning kitchen in her apartment.
It wasn’t exactly standard, even for someone who worked in Culinary Preservation.
But considering how I gorged myself at her table on a regular basis, I wasn’t about to question it.
I unlocked my door, stepped inside, and relocked the door behind me. When I turned back around, I noticed immediately an unfamiliar shape in the darkness.
A scream was just rising in my throat when I lifted the lantern I had borrowed from Brielle. I gaped at what it illuminated.
It was Nya. Sitting at my desk. An ankle crossed over a knee.
“Finally!” She threw her head back, braids swishing.
She was dressed the same as last time—tank top, tan cargo shorts, and ankle-high boots.
The only difference was that her shirt was a faded tangerine instead of green.
It was a color that would have looked atrocious on me, but it complemented her dark skin.
The wall to my left was partially obscuring my view of the room. I held my breath as I hurried to the edge of the kitchen.
There he was.
Sprawled across my comforter, arms crossed behind his head, was Kieran.
He was dressed the same as last time, except he thankfully had the decency to take off his shoes before climbing on my bed.
Due to his height, his black-socked feet nearly hung off the bottom.
Plastered across his face, exactly as I remembered it, was that smug smile.
“Welcome home,” he said cheerily.
I grinned in spite of myself, glancing between the two of them. “You’re back! How did everything go with the marsh wolves?”
They exchanged a look.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually happy to see us,” Nya said slowly, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.
“I don’t know if ‘happy’ is the word,” I said. Although it was, strangely. They didn’t need to know that. “But I’ve been wondering how things turned out for you.”
I walked around Nya and began lighting candles. When I was finished, I realized she and Kieran were both staring at me incredulously. Kieran, no longer the picture of relaxation, was sitting up in the middle of the bed.
I almost asked the two of them how they had fared in the rain earlier, which had continued on and off throughout the day. But considering I had spent the day warm and dry in the safety of the Library, something felt wrong about that. I swallowed the question.
Then I remembered what was tucked into my bag. I couldn’t pull it out fast enough.
“Here,” I said, thrusting the plastic containers into Nya’s hands. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I cringed inwardly at my word choice. Of course they were hungry. They lived Outside.
I went to the cabinet where I kept my small stack of plates and pulled out one for each of them. I also grabbed silverware from the drawer and two cloth napkins that I was certain I had never used.
When I returned to where Nya was sitting, she was still staring blankly at the containers.
I took them back from her and set them on the desk, pulling the lids off all three.
A container for the chicken, a container for the roasted broccoli, and a container of oatmeal cookies.
Brielle had loaded me up with leftovers, and I’d never been so thankful for her concern about my eating habits.
I divided everything until two heaping plates sat in front of me. Then I once again shoved the plate of food, silverware, and a napkin into Nya’s hands. Then I turned to Kieran, arms extended.
He stared at the plate. After a long moment, he reached out and took it from me.
Nya spoke first.
“We’re not hungry,” she said. It was clear from her tone that her words were both a statement, and a command directed at Kieran.
Kieran snorted. “Like she believes that.”
“Fine. How about ‘We’re not up for being poisoned today?’”
I glanced between the two of them, horrified. “You think I would try to poison you?”
“We’re from the spooky, evil Outside,” Nya said slowly, as if I was missing something important. “We broke into your home. Again. We’re about to insist that you help us. Again. Under threat of…death, I guess.”
“You were doing good there until the end,” Kieran said with a sympathetic shake of his head.
For the first time since I walked in the door, I allowed myself to really look at his eyes again. They were the same—gray right now, but with that glint of silver where the light hit them—and yet somehow more breathtaking than I remembered.
“I didn’t know you two were in my apartment,” I pointed out, trying to stay focused. “When would I have had time to poison this food?”
“I don’t know,” Nya admitted. “But maybe—Seriously, Kieran?!”
Kieran was stuffing his face.
He held the entire piece of chicken up in the air, speared on the end of his fork, as he devoured it. Cheese and creamy sauce dripped on his plate.
“This is better than sex,” he sighed, closing his eyes. His mouth was so packed with food that it took me a moment to even process what he had said.
The mental image of him having sex popped into my mind before I could stop it. I turned my gaze to Nya, as if the image was a real thing that I could look away from.
“That’s saying a lot for you,” she snapped. She was still glaring down at her food.
Something in her expression was like a cold shower, washing away the image of Kieran having sex. And the decidedly less enticing sounds of Kieran inhaling his food, for that matter.
It made something in me crack.
“Nya,” I said quietly. “Please trust me. It really is safe to eat. I know you all think you’ve put me out by showing up at my apartment, scaring me half to death, threatening me, forcing me to help you, and…
I mean, that does all sound terrible when you spell it out like that.
” I swallowed. What did it say about me that I wasn’t terrified of them?
I continued, “But it’s really not. I live alone, and things are pretty uneventful.
You aren’t putting me out as much as you think. ”
She seemed to consider my words. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Does your family live nearby?”
“No.”
“Where are they?”
The answer was on the tip of my tongue. My mother and father served as Enforcers, and gave up their lives for the good of Cyllene I was three years old. My sister died in a house fire when I was ten. I opened my mouth.
“My mother and father were Enforcers, and they died in the line of duty when I was three. My sister was executed by The Council, the entity that governs Cyllene.”
“The Council executed your sister?” Nya repeated, her eyes widening momentarily. Then she blinked, and whatever I thought I had seen on her face was gone. “So you just, what…live alongside the people who killed your sister? Fear for your life every day?”
There was no judgment in her tone, only genuine curiosity. I think that’s why I found myself speaking truthfully again.
“I don’t fear for my life, really,” I said.
“I mean, I guess I must to some extent. I was scared the first time you two showed up here. But aside from that, I don’t think I care enough about my life to be that fearful.
I just do what I have to do to get by. Put one foot in front of the other, move from one day to the next.
Because it’s what my sister wanted. It’s… it’s what she, uh…she—”
It’s what Irene begged for, in her last moments. She begged for my life.