Chapter 8
What are you Willing to Lose?
Thankfully, Sarina hadn't noticed, or had the consideration not to ask me about what happened earlier with Zevrial.
It was a bad enough sign that my brain had already decided to refer to him by his first name instead of Instructor Tyrell.
I didn't want to dwell on thoughts of him any longer than I had to.
We were both back in our room, readying for bed when I noticed a small wrapped box on her nightstand. It hadn't been there earlier today, maybe she'd unpacked it?
“What's that?” I pointed to the gift.
“Oh,” Sarina let out a halted laugh. “Nothing. It’s a present. I was born on Blessing Day.”
My eyebrow went up. “You're having a birthday tomorrow and you forgot to tell me?”
She waved it off, pulling out a plush toy and setting it next to her pillow. It looked well loved, and stood out among the excessive amount of clothing she'd brought with her to the outpost. “It’s no big deal. You know how many people have birthdays on Blessing Day.”
I did. Blessing Day was yet another way that the Ascendancy maintained a constant population; by incentivizing couples to procreate.
Any families with babies born on Blessing Day would be rewarded with additional gold and other perks.
It was easily the most heavily celebrated week of the year, as so many citizens had their birthdays fall near, or on, Blessing Day.
My own birthday was only two days after it.
Not that I could share that knowledge without inviting questions.
The day itself was treated as a national holiday, where no services were performed outside the essential.
And I hadn't even remembered that Blessing Day was approaching because of everything else that happened this week.
“Being born on Blessing Day doesn't make your birthday less special,” I countered. “We should celebrate tomorrow, if we don't have lessons or training.”
Sarina shrugged. “It’s really not a big deal.”
Birthdays had been a big deal in my household. Even in the Reformatory, the few friends I'd made had rallied what little we could to celebrate birthdays. Sarina deserved to feel special for one day a year. Everyone did.
“Mama is in Scullery service, and she’s taught me a little. If I can get enough ingredients, I’ll make something tasty for you.”
She let out an unenthused sigh, pulling a comb through her unruly curls. “Alrig—”
A quiet knock came at our door.
I glanced at Sarina. “Expecting someone?” She shook her head.
Cracking the door open, Henrik grinned on the other side. Most of the tension eased out of me, and I opened it wider, “What are you doing here?”
His smile was impish, a persuasive twinkle to his eyes. “Some of us are going to have a bit of fun in the Fitness center tonight, wanted to see if you'd be interested.”
“She absolutely is!” Sarina called out from behind me, and I glowered. Sleep sounded a lot more appealing. “I'm interested too!” she added.
“Good!” Henrik glanced around the hallway. “Meet us there in ten minutes? We're spacing it out so no one notices the...festivities.”
“Of course you are,” I deadpanned. What flavor of mischief would it be tonight? Henrik was a compulsive troublemaker.
“Bring some gold with you, not more than you want to part with though,” he said.
“You don't ask for much, do you,” I complained.
Henrik had lasted a whole...one single day, before breaking the rules. That had to be some kind of record.
He waved as he headed further down the hall.
“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered after I'd closed the door, giving a long-suffering sigh.
“Sometimes you make it really hard to be your friend,” Sarina teased, already tying her coppery locks up into a ponytail. “But I guess every party needs a pooper. It’ll be harmless fun. We'll be careful.”
My gut told me that this would be yet another of Henrik's hair-brained misadventures that resulted in a whole heap of trouble. Sarina looked excited though, and after how she'd deflated at the mention of her birthday, guilt gripped me for even considering dampening that.
“We'll stay for a little bit,” I agreed.
Her beaming smile lit up her face.
It didn't take us long to get ready, neither of us had changed for bed yet.
We snuck like thieves in the night around the rim of the outpost, small pouches of coins strapped tight to our persons.
It felt like forever until we made it to the Fitness center, but when we slipped inside I had a moment of confusion as I peered around in the near darkness.
The bioluminescent moss blanketing the stone walls was shining brighter than the vaporous moonlight slipping through the window.
The sound of hushed conversation and laughter filled the space, but I couldn't pin down the exact direction it was coming from.
“Over here!”
I turned and saw Henrik and a few others gathered around behind one of the mesh screens, the dim light of an everfin oil lamp burning near them.
As Sarina and I got closer, the shapes of Haburi cards on the floor around them became visible, stacked piles of coins in front of each person.
“You're a bad influence,” I grumbled at Henrik as I sat beside him. Henrik’s list of crimes upon entering the Reformatory had been long, and the lesson he’d learned from his imprisonment seemed to be ‘don’t get caught’ instead of ‘don’t commit crimes’.
“Time goes too fast to deny yourself some fun,” he shot back, offering me a cup of amber liquid. When and how had he already gotten ahold of sweetstalk nectar? It smelled pungent, the perfect cage to dull my emotions. Temptation clamped me with the seductive strength of its promise.
Brushing my thumb pad over the scab on my finger, I pushed the cup away with a shake of my head.
“Benji!” Sarina grinned, plopping down beside a man I recognized from the net obstacle.
“Hey Rina,” he gave her a shy smile, shifting his pile of coins to make room for her.
“Right, introductions! Since you two are the last arrivals,” Henrik pointed as he went around the circle.
“Lisia,” he said, and I lifted a hand in greeting.
“Izaiah.” A lanky man with sun-bleached floppy curls gave Sarina and I a luxuriant appraisal.
“My roommate, Orin.” A stout man leaned back on pale arms, looking bored.
“Rosa.” A cute brunette with a dazzling smile waved.
“Talissa.” A curvacious woman with beautiful dreads and suspicious eyes shifted where she sat.
“And Sarina.” Sarina wiggled her fingers.
“And of course, the most important of all, me!” Henrik pointed both hands at himself with flourish.
“Well, you've certainly made it easy to write this up later,” came a low familiar rumble.
My heart plummeted into a pit in my stomach. Sarina startled. Slowly, I turned.
Zevrial Tyrell was looming at the edge of the partition, looking amused and altogether far too handsome to be real.
And suddenly my throat was drier than if it were coated in sand.
Izaiah started moving as if he was going to make a run for it.
“Man, we just got here. We haven't even done anything wrong yet,” Henrik whined.
I could have punched him right in his giant mouth.
Izaiah froze in mid-flight, one leg raised and the other one still lowered, waiting to see how things played out.
Zevrial raised a perfect eyebrow. “By all means, don't let me stop you.”
Rosa twisted to flutter doe-eyes at him. “Or maybe there is some other way we could persuade you not to report us?” She twisted a thick lock of wavy hair around her finger.
It was too dim in the Fitness center to be sure, but I thought his gaze briefly flitted over to me. He blew out a sigh of over-exaggerated hardship. “Not likely. What’re you doing, anyway?”
“Just playing Haburi,” Henrik said. “And we don't have to wager on it or nothing.”
“Life’s better with a little risk,” Zevrial countered, stepping forward. “Why don't we play, and if any of you can beat me at a single hand, I won't report any of you.”
Henrik's eyes lit up, but I heard the undercurrent of implied threat.
“And if we don't win a single hand?” I asked. Once again, his searing gaze focused on me, measuring. I had the insane impression that he could peel back all my pretenses with only his eyes.
“Then you’re fucked,” Zevrial replied.
“But, we can still leave? And you won't report us?” Izaiah pleaded, a minor tremor in his voice.
“No, I won't report cowards who leave, since no one has broken any rules. Yet.” Zevrial’s face was stony, but there was fiendish delight in his eyes and I hated how my chest tightened at the sight of it.
My pulse spiked when he headed forward to take his seat, near me. He slowed his approach, glancing down at his chest, frowning.
“I'm so gone,” Izaiah announced, climbing fully to his feet and rushing toward the exit.
“Me too.” Talissa rolled up from her sitting position. “Been great knowing you.”
My ego warred with my common sense. To stay or go? Go or stay...
This felt like another big choice to make, and so soon after selecting roommates too. Losing could mean going back to the Reformatory.
Sarina worried her hands in her lap, brows knitted while she licked her lips. She might leave as well, since being a Voyager was her childhood dream. However, she remained seated.
I had never been great at Haburi, but I wasn't bad either.
The rational part of me didn’t like the stakes. But I refused to entertain the idea that all of us couldn't win one round against Zevrial. Surely one of us could beat him at a single hand of Haburi, right? We outnumbered him five to one.
Another part of me stubbornly refused to acknowledge that I could potentially lose to him, at any challenge whatsoever.
Zevrial was too close now, ignoring the open spots that Izaiah and Talissa had vacated. Henrik scooted further away from me, casting me a curious look as he made space for Zevrial to sit beside me.