Chapter 30 Kali
KALI
The grass peeking out of the fissure in the asphalt fluttered, shaking in resistance against the wind threatening to uproot the weed. My shadow hovered over the vegetation a split second before I stomped on the plant, heading for the end of the street.
Dilapidated, on-the-brink-of-collapse dwellings and ruins of houses from the past framed my way from the central square, where Gedeon was giving a speech to our surrounding forests.
Mere hours had passed since Jayla’s outburst of annoyance. Apparently, our friends had knocked on all our bedrooms, torn some hinges off, and when none of us could be found, Jayla’s patience had bubbled over.
Snapped. To the point she’d marched into the street and screamed her lungs off.
She had a good reason, though—Ilasall had attacked us overnight.
Our cattle had been slaughtered, the throats of the young slit, the heads of those past their prime branded with a circular hole, our greenhouses set on fire, the glass shattered to allow oxygen to fuel the blaze, and our sheds protecting the seeds, seedlings, sprouts, and saplings for the next round of sowing incinerated beyond recognition, the ashes unsalvageable.
The city had destroyed our whole food chain in one night.
And with our resources dwindling, the hope would soon begin to as well.
After the winter, the three months harsh enough to sever the life thread of any vegetation, we had resorted to awaiting the late spring/early summer harvests.
No wonder when none of our friends could find us at dawn, Jayla had chosen the route of directness, jumping in before the compound grew aware of what had befallen us, before the discontent could grow.
Except she had inadvertently announced Gedeon’s situation to everyone.
Also, fuck him for leaving us. For making me think I had killed him in cold blood.
For tricking Zion into doing his bidding and forcing him to keep the state of Gedeon’s life a secret.
For thinking that I did this for you, I did this to increase your chances of winning, I did this so you would have a united army willing to follow you was enough of a reason.
Sure, maybe it could’ve been a sufficient explanation in other circumstances, but not in this case.
So the bastard could give his return-to-the-compound speech by himself. I’d refused to attend the meeting at our central square. Listening to his reasoning, him answering everybody’s questions, and his excuses for his extensive absence didn’t sound like something I’d be into.
I’d given him my trust, handed it over on a silver platter, and he’d stomped all over it. Smashed it. Ground it into dust. And shitted on it.
He could deal with the fallout himself. Declare solutions for our sustenance issue on the spot. Divert any accusations alone. Work out how to stretch the dregs of our reserves for the next nine weeks, until the day we’d ambush the city.
Fuming, I stomped down the streets. But the grayness of asphalt gradually morphed into the green of grass blades snagging on my loose shoelaces, and I trekked across the field, leaving the outskirts of our compound behind me.
Each lift of my boot felt like wading through water, but I pushed through, striding straight to Eli leaning against a budding oak, Eislyn nestled between his legs.
Cross-legged, Amari and Tarri lounged on the navy-with-white-dots blanket.
A selection of golden flowers graced the fabric between the two women with whom I’d tripped face-first into the snare of friendship.
With them, it was so easy, so simple. A kind word, a tub of ice cream to share, a shift at Vice together with Tarri or a training session with Amari, an evening of reading Eislyn’s horror romance books together, and all my troubles would vanish.
But whenever I looked at Gedeon, all I could think was: why was everything so complicated?
His return had changed everything. Before, he’d used to adore me, equate me to the gods, call me a goddess. And yet, he’d dropped Zion and me in hell, had left us to walk through the flames alone.
I’d given Gedeon every part of me, by my choice, including my mind and heart, the former having been locked up, my sole possession for twenty-six years, and the latter having been encased in a stone cage, one Gedeon and Zion had managed to demolish.
So why did the good things have to reach their end?
What we’d had had been a fragile truce, a story forged from crystal glass, a feeling so deep, Gedeon’s death—one I’d believed in with all my being—had razed me inside out.
Yes, Zion had glued parts of me back together, and I’d rebuilt myself the best I could, but some things couldn’t be mended. Some things had been lost in the wind, never to be located and never to blossom again.
And that hole in your chest, the bottomless well of gut-wrenching screams wreaking havoc on you? It never closed.
“Hey.” Eislyn’s delicate greeting pierced the torrent of thoughts locking me in its chains.
Eli splayed his hand over Eislyn’s stomach, shifting her closer to him. Her blush accompanied her saying something to him, his response eliciting an eye roll from her, and—
Wait.
That couldn’t be right.
Unless…
Eli hadn’t been tested for fertility. He’d been born in the compound, not the city. And Eislyn had worn a green wristband in Ilasall.
The possibility always existed, not that there was anything anyone could do about it. Any and all types of fertility suppressants had been prohibited ages ago, their properties infringing on the building blocks of our society.
Except it wasn’t my society anymore.
“I think we need more twigs for these to hold form,” Tarri said, scrutinizing the wobbly wreath of yellow flowers she was assembling. A few daffodil petals floated down to the blanket, the segments of corolla a liquid gold against the navy material.
Wriggling out of Eli’s hold, Eislyn said, “I’ll get some.” She wandered down the treeline, collecting twigs off the forest floor and swiping her overgrown chocolate bangs away every five steps.
Eli tracked her movements, the scar running from his lip corner to his jaw as severe as his expression whenever she roamed out of his sight.
So that was why he’d had a stick up his ass when we’d ventured into Ilasall to meet Zola and the underground contacts two days ago.
The fighter, our leading teacher of knife-based training, and Zion’s buddy in organizing smuggling operations and supply runs, had become an overprotective prick because of his unborn child.
Couldn’t leave the fetus and the mother alone for a day while we sorted out matters in the city.
Collapsing onto the corner of the picnic blanket Amari and Tarri had left free of the heaps of flowers, I hissed a warning, “If you hurt Eislyn…”
She was the personification of a daffodil, graceful and frail at first look, yet boasting a mountain of strength underneath, able to weather the harshest storms.
But most importantly, she was my friend.
“What?” Eli tucked a blond lock behind his ear, his waves tickling his shoulders covered by a thick cream sweater, an inch of a loose thread hanging from the neckline. “You’ll skin me alive?”
“No.” Picking up one of the flowers, I traced the outline of a narrow leaf, the edge abrading the pad of my thumb. “I’ll carve the word ‘pig’ into your forehead so everyone can see the scars and beware.”
“If you need any assistance, count me in,” Amari added, pointing a daffodil at Eli and mimicking a gunshot.
“Me too.” Tarri folded her impossibly long, slender legs underneath her. “I can come up with a few ideas on how to make him suffer.”
Eli whistled, the melody as sharp as the withered tree bark above his head. “Damn.”
“So…what are your intentions?” I asked while plucking petals out of the corolla, one for each of the five words. Or to be frank, one petal for one finger Eli would lose if Eislyn ever suffered because of him.
Watching Eislyn stroll toward us, he said, “Her.”
The foliage hung above her like a halo. Her white, loose pants billowed, revealing her petite figure, the currents of air rattling the pile of thin branches in her arms.
Eli’s tone took on a lulling note, full of reverence. “I don’t want anything else. She’s my only intention.”
“Awww.” Amari pressed her flower-gun to her chest, strands of her russet hair lashing at her prominent cheekbones. “I want that too. Not the baby”—she shuddered—“but the way you look at her when you say that.”
“Ooh, these are perfect,” Tarri exclaimed as Eislyn passed her the twigs—firm yet flexible to serve as a frame for the headdresses.
Eli spread his legs in an invitation, causing Eislyn to shake her head, her high ponytail swaying with the movement, but she lowered between his thighs, leaning against his chest and flushing pink when he tucked her under his chin.
My throat thickened at the affection between them, at the effortlessness of it.
“How are you holding up?” Eislyn asked me.
“I—” I sighed through my nose. “I’m not sure.
” How could you be when your world had been turned upside down?
“I guess I’ll be okay. I am okay.” I swallowed the lump obstructing my speech.
“No, I’m—” Scratching my forehead, my nails raked lines along the faint wrinkles betraying my age. “I’m somewhere in the middle.”
“That’s good.” The dimple in Eislyn’s chin deepened. Eli kissed her temple, and her flush intensified.
“The better question is how you”—I stared at her currently flat belly—“are doing. And how we didn’t put two and two together for so long.”
“I’m only a couple months along so far,” she admitted, caressing her stomach.
Eli beamed at her so lovingly; the two of them radiated bliss.
“We restrained from telling anyone before we were truly sure everything was okay. And I just finished all my tests yesterday.” He peppered her forehead with kisses, and she blushed beyond limits. “We’re in the clear.”
Their happiness was so beautiful. I longed for anything remotely like it. “Congratulations.”
“Thank—”