Most mesmerizing of all are the walls. There are no windows, only floor-to-ceiling glass. Nazirah sees the view outside, sees the glittering skyline she’s only ever read about, confirming what she has already guessed. She’s in Mediah.
Behind her are three unnervingly lifelike marble sculptures of Adamek, his father Gabirel, and his mother Victoria. Nazirah realizes that she must be in the Morgen’s penthouse. This is how Adamek lived? With this grand room as vast as an entire floor at headquarters? Nazirah wonders yet again why he ever chose to leave.
The large metal doors in front of her open and Adamek Morgen enters. He looks almost exactly the way Nazirah knows him. Guests all around stop their conversations. Females stare longingly as he makes his way across the room. Adamek stops halfway across the room to pet a tiger, shaking his head in amusement. Nazirah’s heart catches in her throat when his gaze pierces through her. She immediately turns to run, but he walks straight past. Nazirah tells herself to grow a backbone. This is what she asked for, after all.
Adamek speaks quietly to a woman who’s obviously his mother. Not much is known about Victoria Morgen. She tends to keep to herself because of her illness. She is, however, known for throwing lavish galas that are the talk of Renatus. Nazirah has seen photographs before, in the papers back home, but photographs don’t do Victoria justice. She is absolutely stunning in person, with flowing brown hair. She has creamy, unmarred skin, although very pale. She has Adamek’s high cheekbones and aristocratic nose. But on Victoria, the nose is delicate, not masculine. And she has the second most beautiful pair of eyes Nazirah has ever seen. Green eyes deep as the lagoons of Rafu, old as the Earth. Green eyes that whisper of Oseni hilltops, of Eridian shores.
Nazirah walks over to them, listening to their conversation. “You’ve outdone yourself, mother,” Adamek says. “But you could have warned me that I’d be walking into this tonight.”
Adamek does seem informally dressed for the occasion, even by Nazirah’s amateur appraisal. He’s in simple black pants and a dark shirt. His hands casually rest in the pockets of a black leather jacket. On anyone else, the outfit would seem out of place in this highfalutin zoo. But on Adamek, it’s refined. Like everyone else is just gaudy. Which might actually be the case.
Victoria sets her flute of blue champagne down on a nearby table. She smiles at him, but Nazirah thinks it’s not a genuine smile. It’s reserved, borderline restrained. Victoria straightens her back, linking her gloved hands in front of her. The emeralds that are woven into her gown glitter.
“My dear Damek,” she says airily. “My world, my earth. I told you about this charity gala weeks ago. You’re incredibly late. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your complaint to heart.”
Nazirah smirks.
“And what pointless fundraiser are you throwing tonight?” Adamek asks. “Bikinis for the Eridians again? Fur stoles for the Zimans? Hut decor for the intermix?”
“Your arrogance does not suit you, Damek,” Victoria says tersely. “I do what little I can with my hands tied. I have to appeal to certain tastes, certain expectations. Sometimes, you are just like your father.”
“Most people would see that as a compliment.”
“I’m not most people,” she says softly. “I’m your mother. But speaking of Gabirel, where is he? It’s rude for the Chancellor to keep his guests waiting.”
They’re distracted by a group of young girls giggling nearby. The girls point at Adamek, obviously infatuated. He clearly hears them, but doesn’t move.
“You could stand to learn a few manners yourself,” Victoria tells him.
Adamek turns around slowly, nodding his head in greeting at the girls. “Father is in his study,” he says to Victoria. “I’ve just finished speaking with him, after I came back. He’s in an especially rank mood, but should be down shortly.”
Victoria’s entire body tenses, before relaxing in what’s clearly a forced gesture. “Come back?” she asks, voice strained. “I did not realize you were away.”
Adamek is nonchalant. “Just a minor threat to security that needed addressing,” he says. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
Mother and son exchange a significant look, leaving Nazirah hopelessly lost. Victoria grabs Adamek’s arms, sliding them out of his pockets. Nothing strikes Nazirah as unusual, except that Adamek is wearing black fingerless gloves. Victoria, however, seems fixated. She stares at them for a long, uncomfortable moment. “You should change, Damek,” she says, her voice flat. “You’re a mess.” Victoria picks up her champagne and stalks away.
Adamek doesn’t move from his spot for several seconds. Without warning, he turns and begins weaving his way through the crowd. Nazirah follows him nimbly. Adamek stops only to greet someone here and there, shake a few proffered hands, and kiss several gloved wrists. It seems he’s brushing up on his etiquette.
Why is Nazirah wasting her time with this, anyway? Just so she could glimpse a lifestyle she’ll never know otherwise? Does Adamek replay these memories, regretting his decision to leave the luxury of Mediah behind?
Nazirah follows him through several hallways overflowing with sculptures and paintings. She stares in wonder at everything she comes across, trying to memorize the artwork that’s so incredibly breathtaking. Intermix aren’t allowed inside museums. Nazirah imagines Adamek probably took all this for granted, growing up.
Adamek eventually opens a door and Nazirah follows him inside.
Nazirah suddenly feels like she’s completely trespassing on his personal space. She’s clearly standing in his bedroom, which is large, full of dark woods, modern lines, and shades of gray and navy. It’s masculine and clean, perfectly suiting him. A large, wooden four-poster bed stands in the center of the room. The thought of Adamek sleeping there makes Nazirah clear her throat. She clamps her hand over her mouth and looks at him until she remembers he cannot hear her. Adamek casually shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his desk chair. The familiar silver briefcase that holds Iluxor rests on his desk.
Adamek’s furniture, though, is nothing compared to his view. Like the grand room, the back wall of his bedroom is made entirely of glass. Nazirah walks over to it, mesmerized by the Median skyline at night. They are thousands of feet up in the air. Nazirah realizes the Morgens must live on top of one of the tallest skytowers in Renatus. She stares down in awe at the miniature traffic, whizzing through the city at varying altitudes.
Nazirah eventually turns around. She finds Adamek similarly mesmerized, but by a fresco on his wall. She comes beside him, looking at the mural too, because he seems so absorbed in it. Hundreds of people, barely clothed, are scattered amidst a light blue background. The base of it is cut off, like the painting should be much larger. Nazirah finds that difficult to imagine. Compared to the other artwork around the penthouse, it’s antiquated and broken, cracked in spots.
Nazirah doesn’t understand it, but she can’t take her eyes off Adamek. Like Nazirah, only in solitude does he remove the mask of lies he shows to the world. Looking at him now, Nazirah feels like she’s really seeing him for the first time. Adamek reaches a gloved hand out, slowly tracing the brush strokes. Deep sadness and longing plague his face.
Adamek wrenches his hand away, removing his gloves and shaking his head. He sits down on the bed, untying his boots and replacing them with formal black shoes. He stands up, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare torso. Nazirah flushes as she stares at his toned chest. She’s obviously seen shirtless boys before … she lived on the beach her entire life! She has no idea why this particular boy has such an effect on her. Nazirah looks at him in a way she would never allow herself to normally, because this is only a memory.