The zimbaba dips his brush into the jar and details a perfect replica of the Ziman crescent moon on Nazirah’s forearm. Satisfied with his work, he stuffs everything back into his deep pockets. Nazirah inspects her arm, touching the mark gingerly.
Luka retrieves two heavy coats from a compartment under her seat. She tosses them at Nazirah and Adamek. “Here, take these.”
Adamek shrugs his on easily, but Nazirah struggles with the fat buttons. Finished, she looks at them, seeking their approval. “Well?” she asks.
“Keep your hood up,” Luka says, sighing. “And say a prayer.”
#
Nazirah rips off her coat as soon as she is alone, growling, popping several buttons. They fall to the floor like suicide jumpers, plunging eagerly to their deaths.
Nazirah sympathizes.
She tosses the coat carelessly onto a solitary chair. Her room here is cramped, even smaller than her bedroom in Rafu. Nazirah could walk it entirely in three paces. It’s also freezing. Yet the draft feels like the kiss of an angel, because she is so relieved to be free of Luka.
From the garage, they were escorted straight into the manor. The jackets were for additional concealment only, unfortunately. Nazirah wasn’t allowed to step even a foot outside. After a detour to the kitchens for a brief meal, they were directed to their quarters.
Nazirah thinks guiltily of Cato as she sets the photo of them on her small bed. He’ll be returning early from recon about now, finally reunited with his family at headquarters, preparing to defend them against Ivan’s troops that are slowly burning their way towards Krush. Nazirah sits on the squeaking mattress, placing the mason jar of black stones next to the picture frame. She also pulls out her parents’ wedding photo, completing the triangle of bittersweet memories.
Nazirah traces her mother’s silhouette, thinking of Niko, hoping there is a cottage for them to return to when this is finally over. She thinks of Caria and Cayu, of how scared they must be right now. She wonders if their paths will cross at headquarters, maybe by luck, perhaps by fate.
Nazirah stares out the small window. The sun hangs low in the sky, the day nearly spent, only a few hours of light remaining. For a race so fair, every Ziman seems driven by cold and damp darkness. Nazirah touches her platinum locks thoughtfully. She is a child of the sun, not of the snow. She doesn’t belong here.
There is a pounding at the door. Nazirah stuffs the photos and jar under her mattress, crosses the room swiftly, letting Adamek inside. Aldrik bumbles behind, plopping down heavily on the chair. “Fucking freezing in here, Nation,” Aldrik gripes. His breath condenses before him as he complains. “Why didn’t you light a fire?”
“I didn’t know how to,” Nazirah explains. They never had a need for their fireplace at home.
Adamek rolls his eyes. He picks up some logs from the corner and tosses them into the fireplace, bending down to ignite them.
Aldrik rubs his hands together. “Moving on,” he slurs. “Let’s make it quick?” He has clearly tapped into his flask. Nazirah doesn’t blame him. She would do the same thing, if she were married to Lady Luka.
“Go for it,” Adamek tells him.
“To reiterate,” Aldrik says, “Morgen and I meet tomorrow afternoon with the mine owners. If we can’t bribe them to help us, we can at least bribe them to stay quiet.”
“Sounds promising,” Nazirah says.
“Shut it, Nation,” Aldrik grumbles. “I’ve had enough of you today to last me several lifetimes.”
“Anything else?” asks Adamek.
“That’s it,” Aldrik says. “We leave the following morning for Valestream. Morgen, you do not leave your room except for the meeting tomorrow. Nation, you do not leave your room at all. Your meals will be brought to you. Think of it as a reward for your hard work, ceaseless enthusiasm, and unparalleled charm.”
Nazirah glares at him. “Wonderful.”
“Excellent,” Aldrik says, rising from the chair. His stiff joints crack and clack. “Oh, and Nation? Welcome to Zima.”
Aldrik slams the door shut and Nazirah faces Adamek. “Is he still upset about this morning?” she asks.
“Most definitely,” Adamek says. “But right now, I think he has more … preoccupying concerns.”
“Like how to get back into Luka’s good graces?”
“Like how to get back into Luka, period.”
“Ew.”
Nazirah makes a face, but can’t stifle a grin. Adamek stands before her, leaning casually against the bedframe. Nazirah is painfully aware they haven’t been alone since this morning. And the events of last night beat on her mind, restless little drummers, not letting her forget.
Adamek gently tugs a loose, platinum tendril. “What do you think of your new look?” he asks.
“I hate it.”
“Me too.”
“Really?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you preferred blondes.”
“Are you jealous?”
“That’s laughable.”
“Who’s laughing?”
“Why don’t you like it?” she asks.
“You look exactly like everyone else now,” he says candidly. He untangles his hand from her hair. “It’s just not you.”
Adamek glances out the window beside them and Nazirah follows his gaze. It’s snowing lightly. Nazirah presses her face to the glass, wistful, fogging it up. The room may be a coffin, but the view is unearthly. The town spreads out below her, the mountain range rises in the distance, the deep ravine drops off to her right. Snowflakes melt centimeters away on the other side of the pane, untouchable, intangible.
“This whole campaign is becoming a nightmare,” Nazirah says sadly. “I feel completely … useless. Everyone I care about is in danger. My home is …” she stops, unable to finish. “And to top it all off, my one day in Zima and I have to stay inside.”
Beside her, Adamek appears conflicted, then determined. There’s caution in his eyes, mixed with delicious mischief. “Can you keep a secret, Nation?”
Can Nazirah keep a secret? Of course she can keep a secret! Adamek still doesn’t know about her unescorted trip down memory lane, after all. “Depends on the secret,” she says.
“A very big secret,” he teases, fire flames dancing across his face. “Lord Luka would probably have a stroke if she ever found out.”
“But that’s the secret I would most love to tell,” Nazirah replies, returning his half-smile.
#
Adamek and Nazirah walk quickly through the frozen hallways. They pass several young maids and a few zimbaba, shuffling about in saffron robes. Hoods pulled up, heads turned down, they both go completely unnoticed. Adamek strides through the large manor easily, knowing the winding stone corridors like the back of his hand. “Did you stay with Luka while you were in Shizar?” Nazirah asks curiously.
“No,” he says, turning another corner.
“Then how do you know this manor so well?”
“I’ve been here several times before.”
“Why?”
“What did I say about asking questions?”
“Don’t ask a question if you don’t want to know the answer.”
Adamek gives her a meaningful look as they pass by yet another blonde maid. Nazirah realizes she probably doesn’t want to know after all. He opens a nondescript door leading outside. Nazirah walks through, antsy, almost frantic. She inhales sharply, the deviant frost surging through her, so cold it burns. Nazirah lifts her arms up, spinning in a wide circle. She tips her head back, letting the hood fall. The snowflakes melt on her face. Everything is muted, a hushed whisper.
“I keep forgetting this is all new to you,” he says. Adamek stands before her, hood also down. He rubs some flakes off Nazirah’s nose before pulling back and shoving his hands into his pockets. White crystals frame his eyelashes, salt his hair. A devil disguised as an angel, Nazirah thinks.
Or maybe she has it twisted.
Nazirah shivers lightly. “I never thought it would be like this,” she says, unable to meet his eyes.
“The snow?”
She shakes her head, clearing it. “Right.”
“What were you expecting?”