Page 35 of This Cruel Fate

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Sixteen

The drive from Xolia’s apartment to Dresden Bay was articulated with a peaceful silence. As soon as they left the city limits, Xolia’s face was pressed against the window. The city-scape fell away to an open expanse of trees and fields. Xolia had never left the city limits. At least, not in her memory, as she didn’t know which part of the country she had been born in.

Adonis pulled off the highway for old winding roads that led them among the dense trees. Houses were nestled among the foliage. The small towns they drove through were so unlike the concrete swathe of Atalia.

He rolled down the windows halfway, inviting in the oceanic breeze. Xolia shivered despite the heater running at full speed. It was colder here than in the city. Three hours into the drive, Adonis turned into an especially secluded stretch of road, the salt of the ocean rich in the air and the houses more hidden than the others she’d seen.

“General DuBois’s estate is to the right,” Adonis explained at an intersection. “My parents’ house is down this way.” He turned left and took an immediate right before they came to an ornate estate. The driveway turned from asphalt to gravel. The house wasn’t as large as the Presidential Palace, but it had a similar gothic appearance. There were no fewer than three turrets, and the stone exterior had a weathered look with browning vines clinging to the walls.

“It’s more impressive in the summer,” Adonis said. He drove behind the house, where a six-car garage loomed over the landscape.

“Because it’s so disappointing now,” Xolia said, unable to hold back the awe from her sarcastic quip.

One of the doors was already lifted, and Adonis parked easily. Lights flickered to life the moment the car crossed the threshold of the garage. They got out and made their way to the door. “It was jarring to start living like this after the way we were brought up,” Adonis said.

“Have you gotten used to it?”

Adonis opened the door for her. It revealed a large mudroom, which was kept meticulously clean. Adonis flicked on the light from behind her and shut the door. “None of it’s really mine. So no matter how much I want to get used to it, I’ll always feel like an outsider.”

Xolia stopped. There were so many things she wanted to say, chief among them I feel like an outsider too. Nothing came out though, she only nodded at him and turned away.

“Anyway”—Adonis cleared his throat—“I’ll show you up to your room. Your dress is waiting inside.”

They walked through a plain kitchen, though it contained a staggering number of cabinets, before they walked into the main foyer of the house. The foyer was painted a rich maroon, and all the wood accents were dark. A spiral staircase led to the second floor, while hints of a second kitchen, more aesthetically aligned with the rest of the house, peeked through the back hallway.

“Welcome to the Persions’s ancestral estate,” Adonis said without much vigor.

“How long?”

“Since the days of the monarchy.” Adonis scoffed. “The Persion family rose to fame when they dressed the royal family, and many of their daughters were married off to various high-ranking variants in the court. I’m sure not all those marriages were wanted, and I used to wonder why my parents were so disgusted by me.” He walked up the stairs, his hand trailing along the railing.

“Hey.” Xolia ran up behind him and placed a hand over his. “You didn’t ask to be born a variant.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that,” he lamented. “I’m the proof the Persions only got what they did because they whored themselves out for generations.”

His words were ice in Xolia’s bones. While it was true that most humans carried variant genes due to centuries of needing the virility of humans to maintain bloodlines, she’d never thought of it like that. “Is that what you think?”

Adonis refused to meet her gaze; his head was bowed in an uncharacteristically subservient way. Xolia felt like she was looking at what she had been like for the past seven years. But she didn’t have to live that way anymore, and neither did he.

“You’re the proof of your family’s strength,” Xolia said. She moved her hand to his chin, turning him around so he would look at her. “Your family should be bowing to you. They should be thankful that their blood produced such a strong variant. They can’t do what you can do, Adonis.”

A small smile grew across his face. “These almost sound like anti-human sentiments.” He tsked. “And to think they are coming from FAR’s future vice chancellor?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Xolia rushed to say. “I just meant that you’re not your family. And if they can’t see what you’re worth, that’s their problem.”

His eyes softened. Something skittered down Xolia’s spine. Marshall had never broken down like that. She had never been able to comfort him, to pull him out of his darkest thoughts.

“Xo, I—” He cut himself off and dragged his hands over his face. When he dropped his hands to his side again, he smiled at her. “Thank you. Let me show you your room.”

Xolia hadn’t known what to expect of the dress, but the deep crimson and soft, shiny material exceeded any expectations. The neckline ended in a deep v, with two thin straps holding the dress to her body. It was more angular than anything she’d worn in the past, but it suited her more than any of the soft sloping dresses had. She carefully pinned her hair into an updo, one of the many skills she had picked up on regarding her vanity since the end of the war. Looking nice was its own kind of power that she reveled in.

Satisfied with herself, she left the bathroom in the guest room. When she reached the wide corridor full of bedrooms, she realized she wasn’t sure which one belonged to Adonis. Maybe he was in a different part of the house entirely.

She teetered on the edge of action and inaction when the sound of soft footfalls made her turn around. Adonis was in a, predictably, black suit, though the pocket square tucked into his breast pocket was the same shade of red as her dress.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

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