“Please Morgen,” she begs, “no more violence tonight.” Adamek stares at her for a long time before lowering the knife, dropping Ramses entirely. He slumps to the floor, body making a somber thud as it hits the ground. A moment later, Nazirah hears someone running down the corridor. Olag appears before them, breathless. He stops short, taking in the scene, taking in Nazirah’s appearance. He walks over to Ramses, shaking, growling, and howling.
“It’s okay!” Nazirah cries, touching his arm, hoping he understands. “Nothing happened!”
“Let me talk to him.”
Adamek speaks rapidly to Olag in Deathlandic, eventually handing him the bloody knife. Olag nods, pocketing it. He bends over Ramses’ body, preparing to pick him up.
“Wait!” Nazirah says, bending down. She grabs Ramses’ collapsed face, making sure he is still semiconscious. Adamek and Olag watch her curiously. Their expressions turn to shock as Nazirah delivers several excruciating kicks to his groin. “That’s for trying to kill me, you bastard!” she screams, raw, losing control now. Ramses moans, unable to shift even an inch. “And I’m an intermix bitch?” Nazirah reaches into her mouth, scooping some blood and saliva and rubbing it over his remaining face and lips. “See how good intermix tastes!” She kicks him one final time before backing away, hyperventilating.
Adamek stares at her wordlessly. Olag slings a now-unconscious Ramses over his shoulder. He walks away, leaving the two of them alone in the corridor.
“Right,” Adamek says after a beat.
“What did you say to Olag?” she asks, wiping her bloody mouth with the back of her arm.
Adamek inspects his own arm, wincing slightly. “That our alliance with the Red Lords is too precarious, especially with us still in the Deathlands,” he answers. “Solomon will inform them about tonight after we leave tomorrow. Also, not to tell Slome anything until morning.”
“Good point,” she says.
“Come on, Nation,” he sighs. “Let me take you back.”
Nazirah doesn’t pull away from Adamek when he wraps a hand around her waist, holding her steady. They slowly start walking. “Shouldn’t you go find a healer?” she asks him.
Adamek shrugs his good shoulder. “I’ve had worse,” he says. “I’ll bandage it in my room … it looks deeper than it is.” His eyes roam over her cuts and bruises. “What about you?”
Nazirah shakes her head, even though her body is screaming. “I think I’m more upset than anything else,” she says. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
He nods like he is expecting it. They pass through the empty courtyard. Nazirah struggles to climb the stairs. He waits patiently at each step. They finally reach the corridor where both of their rooms are located. It’s black outside. The only light comes from the hanging lanterns that line the walls. They stop in front of Nazirah’s door.
“How did you know?” she asks.
Adamek shakes his head. “Once he said his name, I knew. Before the party ended, I went to find Olag. When I came back, you were already gone.” He sighs. “I should have never let you out of my sight.”
“We were just going for a walk,” she murmurs. Adamek is silent. “Thank you,” she says in a rush. “I was such an idiot for leaving with him. I should have known better; I don’t know what I was thinking.” She stares at her dirty hands. “I wasn’t thinking. You saved me.”
“Not fast enough.”
“You were.”
He reaches out to touch her forehead, thinks better of it. “What happened there?”
“I head butted him,” she says, oddly proud.
He smirks. “Figures.”
Nazirah clears her throat. “Before Ramses attacked me,” she says shakily, “he said he was honoring his father’s last wish. Do you know what he meant by that?”
“The Deathlanders are savage people,” Adamek says, shrugging. “Khanto’s last wish was probably to kill us all.”
“Savage people?” she asks, annoyed. “Unlike the Medis, obviously.”
“Nation, I’m in no mood to argue with you,” he says. “You should know by now that I don’t care about race like that anymore. I haven’t since … a while. The Deathlanders live a harsh life. And yes, they can be savage for it. That’s all.”
“Fine,” she says simply.
“You should get some sleep,” he says. “Make sure you lock your door.” He stands there, waiting for Nazirah to walk inside. Her hand is on the doorknob, but she finds herself unable to turn it. Nazirah faces Adamek. There is caution, wariness in his eyes.
“I really don’t want to be alone right now,” she says quietly. Nazirah waits for his rejection, waits for him to tell her no. She waits for a long time.
“Okay.”
Adamek turns abruptly, walking down the corridor towards his own room. Nazirah trails behind him, surprised. He pushes his door open, gesturing for her to enter. She does before she can regret it. He follows her inside, locking the door.
Adamek’s room is a mirror image of her own. Nazirah, whose belongings are usually strewn into careless heaps on the floor, is not surprised to learn that he is much tidier. There are no photos, no childhood mementos. There is no mess, only a few books. It is spotless, almost clinical. Save for several empty liquor bottles, resting precariously on top of the silver briefcase in the corner.
Adamek walks over to his dresser, retrieving a small bag from one of the drawers. He rifles through it, lazily grabbing an open bottle of vodka. Nazirah watches him pop a white pill and take a swig. He comes over to her, dropping another pill into her hand. “It’s not tequilux,” he says, extending the bottle. “But it’s all I have, unless you want to drink from the faucet.”
Nazirah stares suspiciously at the pill in her outstretched hand, cautiously grabbing the bottle. “I’m not interested in going on some acid trip with you,” she says.
Adamek snorts. “Do you even know anything about drugs, Nation? You don’t drop acid on a pill like this.”
“What is it?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s just MEDIcine! Don’t take it if you don’t want to, but it will help with the pain and swelling. Not the bruising though … or the hangover.”
“Great,” she says, popping the pill into her mouth. She grimaces, tipping the bottle back as well. Familiar, icy relief immediately spreads through her sore muscles. She touches her face, slightly dazed. The bump on her forehead is gone. Adamek laughs before taking back the bottle. He walks into his bathroom, leaving the door open.
Nazirah stands there awkwardly. Her curiosity eventually wins out and she leans over, trying to see what he is doing. She jumps a little when Adamek appears at the door, barefoot and smirking. “You can come in, you know,” he says. “I promise to be a good boy.”
Nazirah sheepishly follows Adamek inside, automatically shutting the door behind her. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Metal lanterns bathe the ivory walls in soft candlelight. Adamek sits on the flat edge of the tub, inspecting his hand casually. His knuckles are bruised, but nothing appears broken. Nazirah quietly sits beside him, pulling a knee to her chest. Adamek takes another swig of vodka before pouring some over his bloody hand.
“What are you doing?” she asks, confused.
“Don’t have any rubbing alcohol,” he says, shrugging. “This is the next best sanitizer.”
“How resourceful.”
“Would you expect anything less?”
Adamek winces slightly, letting the now-red vodka drip from his hand into the tub. Nazirah is reminded of the last time she saw a bathtub filled with blood. From the forlorn look on Adamek’s face, she knows he is thinking the same thing. She grabs the bottle from him, taking a big gulp.
“This is weird.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Right.”
“Right,” he replies, chuckling. Satisfied with his hand, Adamek inspects the stab wound through his shirt. The blood has dried, causing the material to stick. Nazirah takes another swig, trying not to seem squeamish. “Never would have pegged you for much of a drinker, Nation.”