Page 11 of This Cruel Fate

Xolia stopped. She didn’t have time for this. “I just want to go to sleep. Today wasn’t great for me.” She started walking again.

“Xolia.”

“Oh Sel, what?” Xolia whipped around to find Marshall on one knee, the tips of his ears pink under the street lamps and his chest heaving. “You’re slowing us down, Marshall. Just push through, and then we can lay in bed.”

He looked confused. “What?”

“Get up and let’s get home. I just want to sleep.”

Marshall shook his head and pulled something from his pants pocket. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” Xolia inched onward, determined to get home to bed.

Not hearing his footsteps, she turned around. From his position on the ground, he gaped at her for a few minutes. “But—you’re right. It can wait.” He staggered back up and fell into stride next to her.

Marshall posed no more interruptions, and Xolia flung open their apartment door when they finally made it home. She kicked off her shoes in the small foyer and dropped the suit jacket on the floor of their bedroom in an undignified heap. The dress was stained irreparably. Sighing, she reached for the back zipper, but Marshall’s hands stopped her.

“Allow me,” he whispered and slowly dragged the zipper. He moved the straps off her shoulders and kissed her neck. No sparks. Only pressure. She wanted him to stop, there was too much on her mind to even muster up the energy to act interested in his advances Instead of telling him to stop, she let him lay her down against the stiff mattress as he looked at her with half-lidded eyes. He was all over her, touching, prodding. Kissing her neck, he breathed out a soft, “I love you.”

It was her turn to say it back. Just three words. But, in that moment, she didn’t. And she couldn’t say it. She pushed him off her. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shifting to sit.

What’s wrong? She wanted to scream at him. I told you I had a bad day and all you want is to grope me. But she didn’t say that. She just mumbled out a gruff, “I don’t know,” and crawled to her side of the bed where she pulled the covers up to her chin. The mattress shifted as Marshall got up and left. I’m happy. I’m happy.

Chapter Six

The weekend allowed Xolia to push back all the negative thoughts to the small corner of her mind reserved for things that needed to be ignored. Her and Marshall’s relationship had repaired itself by way of ignoring that night. Routine was re-established when Marshall left for work at six on Monday morning to catch up on grading before the students got in.

There was no way Director Howard wouldn’t announce her promotion to vice director today. Not after Peter’s candidacy announcement. As something Peter founded, the bureau would have to be running efficiently during his campaign.

With Xolia at the helm, she could ensure Peter was re-elected. This was her purpose. Her reason. Nothing, not even rumors about protests rocking the country, could dissuade her from supporting Peter.

As soon as she crossed the threshold to the bureau, security greeted her. “Xolia Stone,” the burliest one said, “you’re to report directly to Director Howard’s office.”

One side of Xolia’s mouth quirked up. This is it. Nodding her thanks, Xolia bypassed the broken elevator for the stairs. She stopped at the second floor to drop off her bag and tell Rowan the good news before meeting with Howard, but Rowan wasn’t sitting at her desk. Xolia shrugged it off; Xolia had made it in earlier than usual. There was no need to dwell on it. Rowan would just have to settle for being surprised whenever she did show up.

The third floor consisted of several large offices. Full-length windows revealed the, admittedly, depressing surroundings, but they let in natural light, which was more than could be said for the lower two floors. The third floor was where the important work was done. It was where real change happened for the betterment of variants.

Director Howard’s office was the last one on the left. She knocked once against the dark door. He yelled for her to enter, and she took a deep breath before opening the door. Grant Howard was one of the oldest variants alive in all Ris. His strong features showed the beginning signs of aging; his hair was gray, and wrinkles marred the corner of his eyes. It was a testament to everything he had lived through. Xolia may have had her disagreements with the man, but he was to be respected.

“Good morning, Director Howard,” she said, adopting the same tone of voice that she usually reserved for Peter, and before him, Silas.

“Ms. Stone,” he replied. Xolia winced at the use of her last name. It wasn’t her familial surname; those had all been stripped away during their time in the barracks. After the rebellion FAR managed to declassify old, archived documents that listed out families and relatives for all variants. It had allowed displaced variants to choose whether to reconnect with their biological families or not. Xolia had opted not to. Stone was a government-provided name, and while it didn’t suit her, she thought her biological name would suit her even less.

When Howard wasn’t any more forthcoming with the reason for her arrival, Xolia took the reins of the conversation. “You asked to see me?”

“I did.” He gestured to the open seat across from his and the rough-hewn desk that was as imposing as he was. Both were old and indomitable. She sat.

“Is this about the vice director position?”

He nodded and steepled his fingers. “Xolia, I’ve known you a long time. I was there when Silas singled you out. And I was there throughout the war. You were just a child charged with leading people into battle.” He scoffed. “You were a child, by human standards even, and pushed into something no child should go through. Unlike Silas, I’ve been able to watch you since the war’s end. Seeing both sides of you made my decision easy.”

Xolia nodded, waiting to be given the title of Vice Director Stone.

“Despite Peter’s comforting words the other night, we are in tumultuous times, and I need someone I can depend on. This bureau, and this country, needs someone who knows when to stop and when to push, and I don’t see that in you, Xolia. I’m sorry, but you won’t be getting the promotion.”

What? She blinked, struggling to make sense of what he had said. If not her, then who? She was supposed to get the job. She had the experience. His mouth kept moving, but she heard nothing. Her heart pounded in staccato beats.

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