“Bullshit! You wish you were the one challenging me … fighting me … killing me. But you’re too afraid. So you’re not.”
“Shut up!”
“Tell me I’m wrong!” he yells.
“I said to fucking shut up!”
Nazirah slams her hands into his chest, pushing him backwards into the fountain. He grabs her arms, dragging her over the edge with him. The two of them wrestle for dominance in the shallow water. She rolls on top of him, strangling him. He flips her over, pushing her shoulders down. Nazirah chokes as fluid fills her lungs. She kicks him. Cursing, Adamek pulls her up by the wrists so they are sitting. She stares at him defiantly. The water pounds into her face, blurring her vision.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he repeats, not angry, not anything at all.
“You’re not wrong,” she says. “So don’t die tomorrow.”
“Irri!”
Nazirah wrenches her wrists away as if electrocuted. She stares into Adamek’s face, eyes wide, before turning her head. “Cato!” she cries.
Her voice sounds unnaturally chipper, like there’s nothing strange about sitting in the fountain with Adamek, getting pelted by water. Cato stands before them, stunned silent, smile wiped clean. Increasingly aware how bad this looks, especially since her soaked white dress is now clinging to her like a second skin, Nazirah struggles to extricate herself from the fountain. Cato quickly comes to his senses, rushing forward to help her. He hasn’t changed much in two weeks, save for some stubble and the bewildered expression. “Hi,” he says, unsure.
Nazirah attempts to hug him. Cato is understandably distant. He remains fixated on Adamek, also drenched and out of the water, soggy book in hand. Nazirah protectively crosses her arms in front of her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asks, not knowing what else to say.
“Visiting you,” Cato responds slowly. “I was able to take a few days off from assignment. Solomon arranged it. I wanted to surprise you.” He looks between the two of them. “What is this, Irri?”
“What do you mean?” she asks nervously.
“What do I mean?” he says in disbelief. “Why were you sitting in the fountain?”
Adamek holds his book up, droplets of water rolling down the binding. “Dropped my book,” he says casually. “Nation was assisting me in retrieving it.” He looks at Nazirah. “She’s … helpful like that.”
Nazirah shoots Adamek a nasty glare. “Cato, I’m really happy to see you,” she says honestly, shivering. “Can we go upstairs and talk? I want to hear everything.”
Cato looks conflicted. “O-kay,” he concedes eventually, allowing Nazirah to pull him away.
“Nation!” Adamek yells, calling out to her. Cato stiffens. Nazirah turns, looks at him questioningly. “Your day will come.”
He disappears, walking in the opposite direction. “What did he mean by that?” asks Cato suspiciously, as they walk through the corridor.
“No idea,” Nazirah says quickly, entering her room. “I think he was trying to get to you.” Nazirah doesn’t know why she can’t tell Cato the truth. It would be so much simpler. But she’s buried too deep in lies to dig herself out.
Nazirah grabs an old pair of sweatpants and a ratty shirt before walking into the bathroom, changing out of her waterlogged clothes. She comes back to find Cato sprawled on her bed.
“A lot different from home, huh?” he asks, looking around appreciatively. He smiles a bit, noticing the picture he gave her. The suspicion isn’t gone from his voice, but there’s wonder there too.
“To say the very least,” she replies, sitting beside him. They’ve been apart for barely two weeks. Nazirah doesn’t understand why it feels so different.
“Solomon isn’t giving me this kind of treatment,” he huffs. “My room is nice, but this is palatial.” He looks at her meaningfully, deadpans, “He must really like you.”
“Yes,” Nazirah agrees uncomfortably. “Solomon has been gracious to us. But I feel completely isolated here. How have you been? What’s recon like?”
“It’s good, Irri,” Cato answers, a smile lighting up his face. “It’s actually really good. It’s hard work, for sure, and dangerous. But it’s exciting and important. We know information about the rebellion before anyone else does.”
“Really?” she asks. “Like what?”
“Well, we heard about what happened in the Eridian slums,” Cato says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe Niko thought that would be a good idea. You were lucky to leave with your lives.”
Nazirah looks down at her arms, shivering slightly. The burns may have healed, but she still feels the searing flesh, still remembers the blackened bodies. Those visions plague her already haunted dreams. “I know,” she murmurs. “And for nothing.”
“For nothing?” Cato repeats, confused. “Irri, Eridian intermix are migrating to the compound by the thousands.”
“What?” asks Nazirah, stunned. “That’s not possible!”
“It is,” Cato explains. “I don’t think Cayus is exactly happy about joining forces with us, but he feels indebted to the allies after you and Morgen saved his eldest son. And I think the intermix are realizing that inaction is not working.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Niko told me he’s never seen anything like it … an army of intermix. They’re calling themselves the ‘free people’ of Renatus.”
“You’ve spoken with Niko?”
“Only yesterday,” Cato responds, “for a debriefing. He’s insanely busy, especially with all the intermix showing up. He says they have completely taken over the meadow behind headquarters with their huts. Gloom and Doom are apparently working around the clock to secure the base, erecting more concrete protection walls around the compound, digging additional underground bunkers and air-raid shelters, rewiring and expanding the electric fence, importing weapons, trying to keep the mass exodus of intermix off the Medi radar for as long as possible.”
“How are they feeding everyone?” she asks.
“With the fishing quotas you convinced the Eridians to redistribute away from the Medis.”
Nazirah is astonished the campaign has had such a dramatic effect in only a few weeks. “I can’t take any credit for that,” she admits. “But that’s amazing we’re getting so much support.”
“I know.” Cato smiles. “And that’s not all of it. Even Cander has been securing more allies around southern Eridies, recruiting his friends and contacts.”
Nazirah is truly astonished now.
“I spoke with him about a week ago,” Cato continues, face shining. “For the first time in … a long time. We’re not where we used to be, but it’s a start.”
She gently touches Cato’s arm. “That’s great,” she says, because she knows how much it must mean to him.
Cato gets a serious look then. “It’s not all good news,” he says. “The slum attack was poorly executed, conceived in the final hour and designed to look unintentional. You may be safe here under the Salaahi armistice, but you need to be careful. There have been more than whispers, dark rumors shadowing the country. The Medis are strengthening their army and they won’t go down without a fight. The Chancellor is targeting you, the face, as offender number one.”
“I get it, Cato,” Nazirah sighs. “I knew the risk when I agreed to do this. I never expected Gabirel to give up easily.” Nazirah shudders at the memory of him stroking Victoria’s lifeless cheek. “He can’t be underestimated.”
Cato takes her hand. “I will do everything in my power to protect you,” he promises.
Nazirah smiles sadly. “I know you will.”
“Tell me more about you.”
Nazirah grabs her bag off the floor, rummages through it. “Well,” she says, “You probably heard from Cander that I visited your family when I was in Rafu.” She takes out the locket, gently pulls it over Cato’s head. “From Caria, with love.”
Cato’s eyes fill with unshed tears. He opens the locket, stares longingly at the photo inside. “They are well?” he asks shakily.
“They are,” she replies. “They miss you, and are proud of you. Of us both.”
Cato is quiet for a moment, collecting himself. “How’s Caria?”