15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter fifteen
S lowly, the sound of our laughter dies away and we remain looking at each other. Something like regret dances over the surface of Quillian’s face, tinging the angles in sadness, and he looks down at my hands. For one wild moment I think he might take them in his, and they start to itch with the possibility.
But we stay untouching, even if we’re close.
‘There’s another reason I wanted to talk to you before we check-in,’ he says softly, ‘and it’s a bit delicate.’
A fluttering jams itself between my ribs.
‘What’s your relationship with Traelen like?’ he asks.
My eyes remain frozen open, brows lifted, drying slightly in the breeze from the open windows.
‘Ah, I don’t have a relationship with Traelen,’ I say, drawing my shoulders back.
He does reach out then, touching the back of my hand ever so softly with the pads of his fingers and leaving a tingle in their wake that travels up my forearm.
‘I don’t mean like that, Luka.’ His voice is quiet but there’s a hidden laugh in it, the corner of his mouth lifting.
I exhale.
‘Oh, good,’ I blurt, ‘that could be … awkward.’
He presses his mouth together, suppressing a laugh. ‘Why’s that?’
I break out in a sweat all over. ‘Just – just because,’ I stammer, turning away to hide the burn in my face, and pack my bowl back on the tray.
Clearing my throat, I compose myself before I look back at him, tucking a piece of silken hair behind my ear and off my forehead that’s now slightly sticky.
‘Why do you ask?’
He looks steadily at me. ‘Because I want to know if it’s safe for me to ask you not to tell him how Kasera died. To keep our official records of the event clean.’
I stare at him but there’s no sign of something hidden. And yet, he obviously has an agenda here – I just don’t know what it is. Even still, the thumping organ in my chest tells me to trust him. Trust him, and let him trust me.
‘That’s safe,’ I breathe, even as a tiny voice questions why it would need to be a secret. Questions if I really want to know. ‘But Shiloh might—’
‘I will see her autopsy report before it goes anywhere,’ he says.
‘You mean before Traelen sees it?’
He nods and I can’t help but think about the Chief of Staff, what I know about him, which is … pretty much nothing. He works for the Prime Minister, runs a lot of interference between that office and the prisoners on this island as far as I understand. They were powerful people before they got here, and many of them, those who had the connections already, are able to keep their communication with – and influence in – Parliament House during their stay here. But more than that, I’m not sure. For the first time, I wonder what Traelen could be like under the surface. Does he believe in what he’s doing? Does he know the things Quillian does? Or is he like me and slowly waking up?
What I do know is that he seems so cold I’m sure I will never be brave enough to see if there’s a facade that can be lifted.
Quillian’s face doesn’t change but his chest falls in what I can only imagine is an exhale of relief. As if he was worried about what I’d say. And that knowledge runs like liquid fire through my veins.
‘Thank you,’ he says softly, his gaze not leaving my face. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’
I believe him.
He shifts suddenly on the couch, breaking the connection that had weaved its way around us since the moment I’d bumped into him in the hallway. Striding to the desk, he lifts the handset and twists the round piece that he’d normally talk into. Something I’ve never known to do.
A pale, semi-translucent sheet lowers slowly from the ceiling between us. Just before it cuts us off completely, he motions for me to join him. Slowly, I rise from the couch and move to stand beside him, behind the desk, just as Traelen appears on the screen.
A flickering image of a plush, white office fills the space behind him, a striking blue and gold abstract painting. I try to hold my features in a professional mask but I had no idea this was possible from the ancient phone, even though it’s not at all uncommon on the mainland, and I can’t help but imagine that’s written all over my face.
Quillian gently holds the top of the high backed chair, his fingers loose and relaxed as if we’re not about to lie about the nature of someone’s death.
‘Quillian,’ Traelen says. His face shows only the faintest flicker of surprise as he takes me in but he acknowledges me politely.
‘How are things in the clouds?’ he asks.
‘Well,’ Quillian says. ‘The prisoners are back into their normal schedules, and we’ve taken things up a notch or two to make sure their enjoyment and relaxation levels remain high.’ He looks at me. ‘Luka has all the events in hand and she’s been of invaluable help to me as I settle in.’
Traelen nods, his gold hair swishing softly around his face.
‘And the other matter?’ he asks.
Quillian clasps his hands together respectfully. ‘Kasera’s family has been notified and she’s awaiting collection in the wellness centre. I think you’re seeing—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Traelen waves a hand dismissively. ‘I meant what are the prisoners saying about it up there? My phone has been blowing up all day, a darting accident is quite the discussion piece.’
I resist the urge not to look at Quillian but he doesn’t say anything.
‘A mix,’ I say, and I can feel both Quillian’s tension and relief that I’ve filled the gap. ‘They’re shaken, of course, and a bit flat, especially those that were close to her. It was definitely a shock for everyone involved.’
Traelen studies me for a moment, the vision of him as clear as if he was sitting in the same room.
‘Hopefully that will be the last for a while,’ Traelen says. ‘Any more unexplained, or unexpected, passings, and I will have to involve the Prime Minister before one of the prisoners does it themselves. I am quite sure they will already be trying to contact him and we don’t need that size of a problem.’
Quillian doesn’t move as I stare at Traelen.
‘There are some financial matters I need to discuss with the Warden,’ Traelen says. It takes me a moment to understand I’m being dismissed.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ I say quietly, ducking out of view of Traelen and out of the office, their conversation continuing quietly behind me as I leave.
I peer over the internal courtyard as I wait, my time here still supposed to support Quillian. Pressing my hips into the stone railing, I take in the lush greenery that trails from various heights, before dipping to the stone floor below. Above me is the open sky, a sight I never tire of, and I search it now as if it could put some of these pieces together. Why Quillian didn’t want Traelen to know how Kasera died, at least not officially? Why doesn’t Traelen want the Prime Minister to know before he can brief him? The second question seems easier than the first. I imagine that’s about doing his job well and, perhaps, controlling a narrative. The first is harder to answer. But, worse, is not why he doesn’t want Traelen to know, but why she died at all.
‘It needs to be now.’ A familiar voice filters down the hallway to me and I smile.
River. A moment later they appear at the end of the hallway. They both turn to look at me, Nix waving, a grin on his face.
Changing direction, they head for me and I nervously glance back to the door of Quillian’s office.
‘Here she is,’ Nix says, still smiling but glancing to the closed door behind me.
I can’t help but smile back.
‘She does work here,’ River scoffs gently.
The smile falls from Nix’s face immediately and he squeezes my upper arm. ‘Don’t fucking remind me, if I could carry us all away from here, I would. Right now.’
The door to Quillian’s office opens beside me and I jump, taking a step back from Nix and his touch.
But not fast enough to escape Quillian’s notice.
My skin singes with his attention, a sensation that lingers even as he turns to Nix and River. I expect him to send them on their way, for the coldness that surrounds him when he talks to prisoners to strike hard. Instead, he looks between us, a realisation of some kind descending on his features that sets my nerves on edge.
River looks between Quillian and me, taking a subtle step towards Nix. But instead of hard judgement in his gaze, there is an understanding. Of what, I don’t know.
The air around us in the otherwise empty hallway seems to pulse with everything I don’t yet comprehend, with the echo of Nix’s voice, ‘ He’s the reason we’re here.’ Almost imperceptibly, Quillian looks between Nix and me again and nods to himself.
He turns to me, all familiarity gone from his features and my blood runs cold.
‘Thank you, Luka, you were very helpful with Traelen. I can take it from here.’
The words fumble around in my mouth, the ones I want to say catching in my teeth.
‘Of course,’ I hear myself say instead. ‘I’ll check in again with the committees and leave you to it.’
He turns on his heel and returns to his office, leaving me in the hallway with Nix and River. One all but burning a hole in the door with his glare, the other with sad eyes turned on me.
The concierge room is the most obvious place for me to be now I’m not needed by the Warden. But, the further I go from Quillian’s office, the more I feel like I’m walking in the wrong direction. The difference in the moments we shared genuine, soul-warming laughter, and when he left me in the hallway with Nix, is sharper than I could have anticipated.
I scan the board without seeing. I look over the same information multiple times before I register anything. Even then I have to work hard to digest the details, looking for a space I can fill. Without a team of my own to guide anymore, no prisoners allocated to me, more of an ‘always on’ set of hours as opposed to shifts, and no Warden to assist, I feel strangely adrift.
I don’t even have a collection date to look forward to anymore.
Sighing, I force myself to read the board again where the card for the dinner tonight finally breaks into my thoughts. I’m supposed to see Cortane in the early hours of the morning to give her details on Quillian and the thought churns my stomach. Particularly after this morning. I may already know I won’t be telling her anything that endangers him, but I’m still scrambling as to what else to give her that would seem plausible. Possibly anything would pass at least temporarily given how well I know the prison and its schedules. But could I sell it to her? What happens when she portals to find he’s not where I said?
My vision glazes over, blurring the coloured blocks of text, photos and diagrams on the board before me. This way, it looks so much like my mental picture of what Nix and River are doing. What Quillian is and isn’t trying to tell me. Cortane. Claudius. Quillian. Cortane. A dull throb pulses in the base of my neck and I try, and fail, to make those connections and reasons become clear. To make it make sense.
I sigh. How badly would the truth go over with her?
Dinner. I let that event fill my mind, pushing out the things I can’t solve, and make my way to the kitchen. I move through the halls, smiling as genuinely as I can to all the prisoners I pass. None of them stop to talk, which suits me fine. For the first time in a long while, I find myself wondering what announcements Traelen made when they arrived and, more soberingly, what event led them to be sent here.
Koko beams at me as I trot down the kitchen stairs, her round face splitting in half with the force of her grin.
‘Did you like them?’
I blush but the memory now also has a sad tinge. ‘I loved them, thank you, Koko. You spoil me.’
‘Only you,’ she wags a finger at me before shrugging a shoulder. ‘And maybe sometimes your friend Blossom … maybe always now the new Warden.’
She winks and I can’t help but laugh.
‘We’re ready for tonight,’ she says, gesturing to the preparations happening behind her. ‘That’s why you’re here, yes?’
I watch the kitchen staff for a moment, working in rhythm with each other. I know more than one of them has manifested but, as far as I’m aware, it’s only Koko who’s exempt from the magic dampeners in this kitchen. All of the healers are.
She seems so at home here, in this white and steel kitchen, I almost envy her. Not that I can cook. But the sparkle in her eye when she talks about food, when she sees the joy on our faces when we eat her creations, is something I’ve never had.
My phone chimes and absently I find it in my hand.
Akira: Z, your wife has a death wish. Tell that maniac to stay home, and stay safe. We do not need more vigilantes in this world. Honestly, I’m sure on some level they think they’ve got an important message but all it means for us is more Hunters on the streets and a harder time for civilians.
I stare at it for several moments until I remember the message from Zale I never responded to, and the slightly acidic taste of guilt simmers a little harder in my stomach. Sighing, I figure there’s no time like being in the organised chaos of Koko’s kitchen to turn my mind to a response. The weight of pretending I have anything to offer their lives is heavy and I inhale deeply before I begin.
Luka: I don’t know, maybe being a vigilante is a bit like being a superhero? Maybe I could go with Teddy?
Zale: If I let you go with her, she responds immediately, she might never return to me. She thinks you’re an elusive mystery she’ll never know the answer to.
Luka: She’s obviously a romantic, you should definitely keep her.
I add a little winking face at the end, given I know full well how committed they are to each other. Teddy and I didn’t get to spend a lot of time together before I was given my duty; but it was enough to know she was a shining light in Zale’s life I hoped she’d never lose.
‘Hellooo to Luka,’ Koko’s voice finds me. Just as I’m about to pop my phone away, River’s name flashes on my screen.
River: can we talk?
A weight settles in my stomach.
Luka: Of course. Where are you?
River: your room
Of course he’s in my room. No matter it was locked – he and Nix never let doors stop them in our life on Zanteera, why start now?
‘Sorry, Koko,’ I say, dropping my phone back in my pocket.
‘It’s okay, you’re busy, I know. But you will be at the dinner, yes?’
I stifle a sigh. The prisoners don’t always dine on their own, we have to be there to help things along. Even if I’d much prefer to be tucked up in my own room. ‘I’ll be there,’ I promise.
But as soon as it’s over, I will disappear to my room for a while and then see Cortane. My palms start to sweat and I make myself breathe, focusing on the fact that I still have a number of hours before I have to meet her to talk about Quillian. Get through dinner first. I can do that.
I take the back door of the kitchen so I can skirt the outside of the prison and go back to my apartment via the concierge garden. Part of me tugs to go back to Quillian’s office and explain, but explain what, I don’t know. I just know something shifted in that hallway and it’s made me uncomfortable. Worse, it’s made me sad. Like I’ve lost something important before I even knew what it was. And I don’t want to be on the receiving end of the distance in his eyes again.
Blossom’s laugh is hearty when you can get her to do it properly and I’m shocked to hear it through the door of our apartment before I’ve even opened it. The stain on her cheeks when I enter tells me I’m not the only one that’s been surprised by it. River looks at the drink in his hands, a deep red wine that’s been brought up from the mainland for the prisoners, a secret smile across his lips. He takes a sip to hide it.
Blossom doesn’t look at River as her laugh dies away, looking almost relieved to no longer be alone with him, and my own heart kicks a little harder. She’s told me over and over that she could never love anyone like she loved her husband, that he ruined her heart for anyone else, and the future she was to have with him is the only one she wants – despite that now being a complete impossibility.
My heart broke for her every time.
But watching her laugh at whatever River has said sparks a tiny flicker in me. One I will keep to myself. Just like my imaginings of what questions Quillian will ask me. When that drink will be. If there will be time to have it before Traelen confirms my extension is up. If I even should be doing that with … either him as the Warden, or as Quillian, the man Nix doesn’t trust? Not to mention the man Cortane wants information on knows – and shares – things about the prisoners which he shouldn’t.
‘Hey,’ River says, an unsettled flicker in his bright blue eyes, the pale colour almost the same as the sky. ‘Thanks for coming, I know you’re supposed to be working.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, ‘My timing is a little more fluid now that I haven’t had any allocations.’
‘I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Nix.’
His gaze is almost apologetic when he looks at Blossom. ‘Oh,’ she says, glancing at me. ‘Sorry, I can go—’
‘No,’ River says. ‘Stay. Please. It’s just—’
A knock cuts him off and my sinking heart pauses for a moment. That tone mixed with wanting to talk about Nix can never mean good things.
Janly is standing stony faced in the hallway when I open the door a little, so she can’t see River in my lounge room.
‘Janly, hi,’ I say, trying to keep the surprise from my voice. ‘Is everything okay?’
Her dark-grey bob barely moves as she looks up at me. ‘We’ve got another one.’
I frown. ‘Another what?’
She clears her throat. ‘Another prisoner has died,’ she whispers.
A loud whoosh of air escapes me.
‘I’ve got Emeris working with a small team to sort out the logistics but I thought you should know and … I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.’
‘Shit, thanks, Jan. Who–who was it?’ I ask, an icy sense of dread winding its way around my limbs. Janly looks up and down the hall quickly, and I do as well, half expecting Cortane to appear from thin air with blood on her hands.
‘Aiten Gall,’ Janly says.
Aiten. My heart sinks – he was one of my charges for a time.
‘Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?’
She looks at me almost hesitantly for a moment, and I wish I could invite her in. I can’t hear River, but I don’t know if he’s gone or not and …
‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘I’ll deal with Aiten but Quillian still wants dinner to go ahead. Can I leave you with that?.’
‘Of course,’ I say quietly, my mind spinning. ‘I’ll get Bloss, too.’
Slowly closing the door, I turn back to the lounge room and stare at Blossom, who looks back expectantly, her hands clutched in her lap.
‘River,’ she whispers in the direction of her bedroom, ‘you can come out.’
I let the silence fill the room as River returns, his presence adding a comforting weight to the room around me. My heart rate rising as Janly’s words play on repeat in my head.
We’ve got another one.
We’ve got another one.
‘What’s happened?’ she asks, her face falling.
‘Another prisoner has died,’ I say.
She looks desperately at me. ‘Who?’
‘Aiten,’ I tell her, head swimming.
‘What’s happening?’ Her words are quiet and laced with worry.
‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly, finding River’s blue eyes, bile trying to make its way up my throat. My mind turns in on itself trying to work it through, wondering how much of this one Cortane is responsible for. What Aiten could have done that made her think he needed to die. But I haven’t given her any further information. Not on Aiten, or anyone else. Yet.
The realisation opens a cold pit in the bottom of my stomach. I thought I could control that it didn’t happen to Quillian. But perhaps …
Two deaths.
After Nix and River arrived here.
But also after Quillian arrived here.
I only realise I’ve started pacing when I stop dead, a snippet of an earlier overheard conversation coming back to me, ‘It needs to be now.’
They’re soldiers…
‘River,’ I say, my voice shaking. ‘You and Nix—’ But I can’t say it out loud. Can’t voice that growing suspicion that’s suggesting Cortane might not be the only one responsible for people dying in my prison.
Slowly he crosses my living room, skirting around the couch and joining me in the kitchen. Blossom watches from where she’s perched on the edge of the couch.
‘Lu,’ he says, ‘I know there are people here you care about. A lot.’ He glances at Blossom before looking back to me. ‘I promise I will keep them safe.’
I look up into his gentle face. The shape of his forehead and nose is so like Nix’s but their eyes are strikingly different.
‘How can you promise that? How can you control that?’ I ask, completely unwilling to ask if he knows we will be safe because we’re not on the list of ‘things they had to do’ here.
‘Have I ever let you down?’