“Aldrik?” she whines. “He hates me!”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Niko says. “He just doesn’t like you much. I don’t want to mislead you into thinking this will be entirely safe, because it’s not. But you will be as protected as possible.”
Nazirah fingers the gold bangle the Deathlandic girl gave her on the bus. The girl’s mother recognized her, sympathized with her. Niko is right. This is something she can do … something only she can do. So, although Nazirah can think of a million reasons to say no, she says, “Yes, Niko. I’ll do it. I want to do it.”
Nikolaus breathes a sigh of relief. He gets up and walks over to her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me now,” she huffs. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“But you will,” he says. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re more likable than you think.”
“You’re so sweet,” she says.
He laughs, but then turns serious again. “Listen, this campaign isn’t to be taken lightly, okay?”
“I’m entirely serious about it, Nikolaus.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I’m trying to say that this isn’t a job for one person to handle alone.”
“I thought that’s what Aldrik is there for,” she says slowly.
“Aldrik will be there, yes,” Nikolaus says evasively. “He has the formidable task of winning over some very critical allies. We are hoping to restrict the transport of various resources into Mediah, weakening them from within before we strike.”
“And how is Aldrik planning on doing that?” she asks.
“To be perfectly honest,” Niko says, “probably with bribes.”
“Well, it certainly won’t be with charm.”
“Agreed,” he laughs.
“And how do you expect the Medis to react when we cut off their access to food, water, and whatever else?”
“Not well, obviously,” he says, “Which is why our window of opportunity is so small. It’s now or never.”
“Okay,” she says bluntly. “Your point being?”
“Aldrik has good intentions …”
“I’m sensing a ‘but.’”
“But,” Niko continues, “like you said, his delivery isn’t great. We need someone there to negotiate. Someone with the military background and monetary backing to secure alliances and make sure our allies follow through.” Nikolaus looks at her, waits for her to comprehend.
Nazirah doesn’t need to ask. “Niko, no way!”
“It has to be him.”
“You can’t possibly expect me to spend weeks with him!” she cries. “This isn’t a two minute conversation where I can leave when he starts pissing me off!”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But it can’t be avoided. He’s the best option we have.”
“The best option?” she yells. “If Morgen is the best option the rebels have, then we really have no chance in hell! He’s killed half the country, for God’s sake! You really expect people, intermix people, to ally with him? I don’t think all the bribes in the world could make that happen!”
“I think you’d be surprised by what people will do for money,” he says, “especially hungry people. Like you said, everyone in the country knows him too. You’ve heard what people are calling him. Renatus, Irri. They are naming him after the damn country, in whispers, all over! He’s exactly who people need to see in order for them to give us their trust and support. Can you imagine how this will help us?” His eyes glaze over. “Two former enemies, of completely different races and social strata, appearing together as a united front?”
“Only we’re not two former enemies,” she hisses. “We are very much in the present!”
“Stop being dramatic.”
“You don’t understand!” she tells him hotly, flashing back to all of their previous encounters. “Morgen is seriously deranged! He is mentally unstable.”
“Everyone’s a little unstable,” Nikolaus replies callously.
“Are you trying to upset me?”
“I’m not saying he’s the friendliest Medi on the street, Nazirah. Of course he’s a little mentally … preoccupied. But aren’t we all, with everything that’s been happening?”
“He called me ‘Nazi!’”
Nikolaus snorts. “That’s my fault. I may have mentioned your childhood nickname once or twice.”
“You talk to him about me?” she shrieks.
“Sometimes.”
“Niko!”
“Nazirah!”
“You can’t do this to me!”
“This isn’t open for discussion. We’re in the final stages of this and we need Morgen. Either you decide to get over yourself or you don’t, but he goes either way.” Nikolaus grabs a thick binder from his desk. “I have to go discuss the final schedule with Aldrik. Think about it over the weekend. If you decide to go, the car leaves for Rafu first thing Monday morning.”
“How am I supposed to pretend, before the entire country, that I’ve somehow forgiven him?” Nazirah asks. “Because isn’t that what you’re really asking of me? How can I possibly make anyone believe it?”
Nikolaus leans into her. He says, entirely serious, “Become an amazing fucking liar.”
#
Nazirah sits alone in Nikolaus’s office for a good ten minutes, trying to process everything her disillusioned brother has asked her to do. She rubs her temples, feeling a migraine forming in her skull. Ready to seek out the nearest bottle of tequilux to drown her sorrows in, Nazirah’s eyes befall the silver briefcase.
She stares at it, intrigued, remembering how unsettling she found Adamek’s appearance with it. Nikolaus tried to dismiss Nazirah’s curiosity, but she isn’t crazy. There are no training sessions today, Nazirah is almost sure of that. He used the Iluxor on himself. But what was he looking at … and why?
Nazirah stands rapidly, the chair scraping against the floor. She walks over to Nikolaus’s door. Nazirah puts an ear to it, listening but hearing nothing. She turns the lock before she can talk herself out of it. This is an opportunity she might never have again. And maybe, with a little luck, she’ll finally get some answers.
She grabs the briefcase off the bookshelf, pulling it over the ledge with two hands. It’s heavier than she expects. Nazirah hauls it over to Nikolaus’s desk, struggling to lift it. She runs her fingers over the keypad, trying to remember what code Adamek entered the day of their first lesson. The case unlocks on her second try, with a hiss.
Like a warning.
Periodically glancing at the door, Nazirah quickly fills a syringe to the top with translucent serum. Hesitating for only a second, Nazirah injects herself in what she hopes is the vein, grimacing in pain as the syringe empties. She remembers what Adamek told her that first day, about how the Iluxor stores the last memory it picks up. Nazirah argued then that it was an invasion of privacy, but she isn’t arguing now.
She places a shaky hand on top of the glass, watching with trepidation as the sparkling white mist fills the cube.
Don’t ask a question, if you don’t want to know the answer.
“Take a risk,” she whispers.
Nazirah closes her eyes, hesitantly touches the corner of the cube. And she gets her answer.
Chapter Thirteen
The party is already in full swing.
Nazirah opens her eyes slowly, taking in the grand room covered in crystal and marble. In every direction, in every crevice and corner, there’s lush opulence and indescribable luxury. Women dressed in corsets and velvet walk around with leather parasols. They laugh softly, dance slowly, sipping electric blue champagne from long-stemmed flutes. Their bodies are covered in glitter and shimmering dust. The men, not to be outdone, are dressed in gunmetal suits, liquid black waistcoats, bright top hats and crystal canes. They play cards and drink brandy, completely unfazed by the literal circus around them.
There are tigers and snow leopards and cheetahs with diamond collars, lazily chained to chairs and tables. A breathtaking mural of the sky and stars is painted on the ceiling. The centerpiece in the room is somehow both a waterfall crystal chandelier and a winding staircase that opens onto the roof. Near the stairs, a woman covered entirely in gold sequins serenades partygoers atop a fuchsia piano. Four electric violins back her up beautifully.