“No,” she says, gesturing between the two of them. “Are we okay?”
Cander sighs. “When have we ever been okay, Nazirah?”
“Don’t hold anything back,” she snaps. She moves to leave, but he holds her waist more tightly.
“Word on the street is you’re visiting the slums tomorrow.”
“What of it?” she asks.
“Be careful,” he says. “Once the Medis find out you’re here, and they will, it’s only a matter of time before they try to get to you. I may not care much for your brother, but I care for mine. And he cares about you. So don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Cander scans the crowd again, his eyes narrowing. “I’m serious, Nazirah,” he says. “Nikolaus has got this much right: you’re exactly the spark intermix are looking for to blow this whole thing wide open … and the Chancellor knows it.” He leans forward quickly, kissing her full on the mouth.
“What are you doing?” she hisses, pulling away.
He chuckles. “You need to become a much better liar than that,” he says. Cander winks and then walks away, leaving Nazirah stunned on the sidewalk.
“Boys,” she mutters.
Nazirah turns around and stops short, realizing whom Cander was really putting on a show for. Adamek stands a few feet away, unusually smoking a cigarette, watching her intently. Nazirah ignores him as she walks past. Seeing the Caals was exactly the fix Nazirah needed. And she won’t let him ruin her high.
He thinks she’s a frigid prude?
Nazirah will show Adamek Morgen exactly how frigid she can be.
Chapter Seventeen
Walking to the parked sedan the next afternoon, Nazirah is in considerably heightened spirits. Her late night visit to the Caals has renewed her focus and drive. She feels unusually optimistic, excited even, to visit the intermix slums.
Nazirah opens the car door, expecting to be the last person there. To her surprise, Aldrik is unusually late. The sun is high in the afternoon sky and the car is sweltering. Nazirah smirks as she slides into the backseat. Adamek has undone his two top shirt buttons and rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. This isn’t Krush anymore. Adamek clearly isn’t used to the muggy, humid heat of southern Eridies.
Nazirah finds herself unwillingly drawn to the patch of skin shining through his unbuttoned shirt. It reminds her of him in the Iluxor. So much has happened in the last couple of days that Nazirah keeps pushing that memory to the back of her mind. She doesn’t want to think about it … how he has lost a mother too … how he has essentially orphaned himself … how he has no one to go to when the grief becomes overwhelming. She doesn’t want to know that he has no one at all.
“See something you like?”
Crap.
She snaps her head up. Adamek’s eyebrow is raised questioningly. “Just wondering why you’re not wearing your pendant,” she replies, thinking quickly.
Adamek looks down where it would normally be, shrugging lightly. “Forgot to put it on, I guess.”
“You guess?” she scoffs. “You shouldn’t mess around! That amnesty pendant is the only thing protecting you from some angry rebel who decides he just might like killing you after all.”
“Is that so?” Adamek asks, heavily scratched hands resting nonchalantly in his lap. “The only thing?”
“I don’t know,” she says, retracting slightly.
“Right.”
“Whatever,” she snaps. “You still need to be more careful.”
“Oh, honey,” he says, words calculated. “I didn’t realize you cared.”
“I still don’t,” Nazirah says. “I just don’t want you dead. Not while you’re still useful to the rebels.”
“You don’t want me dead?” Adamek asks emotionlessly. “Or you don’t want me dead at someone else’s hands?”
Nazirah is stunned silent. Sure, she has imagined killing him, in various painful ways, for months now. But for him to say it out loud? To make that desire, that darkness inside of her, seem possible? Like she could really do it, if only she had the opportunity?
It scares her.
“That’s what I thought.”
“How did your meeting with the fishermen go?” she asks, changing the subject.
“I’d say very well,” he tells her, “considering what we bribed them with.”
“Not everyone can be bought, you know,” Nazirah responds crossly. “Some people have morals.”
“Morals have nothing to do with it.”
“Morals have everything to do with it!”
Adamek sighs. “Everyone can be bought, Nation. It’s just a matter of price.”
“You’re talking about money?”
“That’s not what I said.”
Nazirah glances out the window, annoyed. “Where is Aldrik?” she asks.
“Talking with your brother, I think.”
“By the way,” she says, “do you know what he’s saying about us?”
“Your brother?”
“Aldrik.”
Adamek shakes his head. “What’s he saying?”
“Well, uh,” Nazirah mumbles, “you remember how I didn’t exactly answer Cander’s question yesterday?”
Adamek’s eyes flash. “Vaguely.”
“Apparently,” Nazirah continues, coughing nervously, “Aldrik’s telling everyone that my silence was actually because I … because we’re … together.”
Adamek snorts in amusement. “That makes no sense at all.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he tells her. “I doubt anyone will believe it.”
“That’s not what Cander seems to think.”
“Afraid word will get back to your little boyfriend in the Red West?” he asks.
Nazirah hasn’t thought of that. What if Cato hears the rumors before Nazirah can explain how untrue they are? Nazirah knows he will go crazy. And the two of them don’t need any more strain on their friendship. “No,” she says stubbornly, refusing to let him get the last word.
“Or are you afraid he’ll hear about your midnight trysts with his brother?”
Aldrik appears by the inn’s entrance and Nazirah sighs in relief. “It’s not like that.”
“Don’t you find it hypocritical,” Adamek continues, “that you wax poetic about how I spend all my time slutting myself around, and then you go and whore yourself out to the first willing guy? Not to mention jeopardizing the entire campaign in the process.”
“I do not whore myself out,” she hisses.
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
“As you made it so abundantly clear last night,” Nazirah says angrily, “you know that isn’t true. And I could not care less what or who you do.”
Lie.
Aldrik shuffles into the front seat, revs the engine. Without a word, he begins driving, making the short journey to the slums.
“You’re late,” Nazirah says.
“The Commander can be very chatty when he wants. Morgen has probably already informed you, your highness, but our meeting today with the fishing contacts was successful. They’ve agreed to stop sending resources to Mediah and instead will be redistributing their food quotas to the rebels.”
“I told her,” Adamek replies.
“Good,” he says, smiling wickedly. “There’s also something else, concerning you two, that you should be aware of.”
“We already know,” Nazirah answers.
Aldrik quickly glances between them, noting their tension with delight. “Having a lover’s spat already, are we?”
Nazirah only shoots him a scathing glare.
“Holy hell, what is that?” Aldrik says as they pass by the town square. A makeshift gallows has been erected in the center. Nazirah gags as she sees bodies hanging in the sunlight, slowly rotting corpses. They are a few feet off the ground, hands bound behind them, heads lolled to the side. Seagulls and flies circle overhead. It’s haunting.
They enter slum territory. Nazirah has never been in this part of Rafu, even though it’s close to where she grew up. Barefoot children wearing rags run alongside the car, fascinated. Nazirah feels ashamed to be driving into the slums, wishing they walked from the inn instead. She wants to yell out the window that she’s like them, can count the number of times she’s been in a car on one hand.