Page 36 of This Cruel Fate

The blush rose to her cheeks, unbidden, and she was grateful for the light dusting of makeup to hide her reaction to such simple words. It was like they were fifteen again, struggling to parse out feelings in the midst of so much uncertainty.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she commented, reaching out for his arm. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, which he covered with his hand. The touch was innocent enough, though electricity sparked through Xolia. It was an echo of their kiss and a promise of what was to come. It was a reminder of what they were both too stubborn to say but were desperate enough to show through their actions. Without Marshall to steep Xolia’s feelings in shame, she could admit so much more to herself. She wanted. She wanted Adonis and the opportunities he provided. She liked the nice clothes, the encouragement to join Peter, the headfirst dive into Ris. Nothing was covering her eyes anymore. With Adonis she didn’t have to pretend at happiness and pretend that she could be like Marshall.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Do you think John Clemont has a chance?”

Adonis shrugged against her as they made their way downstairs, arm in arm. “It’s hard to say since the race hasn’t officially started yet. And we don’t really have a precedent for what the voters want. But FAR had big goals that haven’t really come to fruition yet. It’s a dangerous spot for Peter to be in.”

They released each other’s arms, and Adonis led her back through the mudroom. He opened the passenger door of the car for Xolia, who slid into the seat. They were off to the general’s home.

A gilded white manor lit up with sparkling lights, emerged from the darkened expanse of foliage. Xolia leaned forward to take in all the scenery.

“I didn’t know being a general came with such a high salary.”

Adonis snorted. “It does when you control more than half of the nation’s military.”

Xolia imagined that sort of power. The power that could start or end wars with a shift in mood, a misplaced comment. That an entire country would lay down their lives at the behest of one person, and do so with honor, boggled her mind. She didn’t have that during the rebellion. Sure, Silas gave her a command of her own, but that never expanded to anything substantial. Even he only commanded a fraction of all the variants in Ris, which was a fraction of all the people in Ris.

The wheels of the sports car crunched over the gravel driveway as Adonis pulled up to stop in front of the valet. Xolia and Adonis stepped into the chill of the night. Adonis came around the car to join her after providing his keys to the attendant.

Rather than offering his arm, Adonis grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. The simple touch settled her. A tremor of anxiety threatened to throw her off her axis as she stared up at the palatial estate. This would be her first interaction with people who weren’t beholden to FAR or Peter.

If she wanted to help Peter, to be his vice chancellor, she would need to understand the country. Not just him. She tugged at Adonis’s hand, and together they climbed the stairs and stepped into the grand foyer of the house. Waitstaff greeted them, and other guests milled through the open space. Does Peter know this is happening?

Adonis lowered his head to her ear and started to say something when the night’s host, General DuBois, stepped down the grand staircase. He nodded once at Adonis, though his eyes narrowed when they homed in on Xolia.

Xolia didn’t know what to make of Adonis’s apparent camaraderie with the general. DuBois had backed the Gornne Administration during the rebellion until it became clear they were losing. Peter hadn’t had any military strategists as competent as DuBois, and in an ever-changing world, inside and outside of their country’s borders, Peter couldn’t take his chances with replacing him. At least, that was always as much as Xolia could gather.

“It’s good to see you, Adonis,” General DuBois said. “I am surprised to see your companion, though.”

Xolia was so taken aback by being talked about rather than talked to that she couldn’t muster up some pithy retort to throw in the older man’s face. He did look old now, his hair entirely gray, rather than the salt and pepper it had been during the war.

“Xolia and I had the good luck to become reacquainted at FAR’s annual gala last month.” Adonis brushed his thumb reassuringly over her hand.

“Naturally,” the general answered. He held Xolia’s gaze. “It’s nice to meet you under less contentious circumstances, Xolia.”

“Likewise,” she replied, unsure if she meant it. Hearing his daughter admit he respected her was different than them behaving civilly toward one another.

“Well, Adonis, Xolia, enjoy your evening,” he dismissed the two of them, walking around them to greet the other guests.

“Is Helen here? I’d like to talk to her again,” Xolia said. They turned left to enter the main ballroom, or at least that’s what Xolia deduced from the music filtering in through the room.

Pressed against him, she felt Adonis tense. “I’m sure she’ll turn up at some point tonight.”

She stopped them before they could disappear into the crowd of notable politicians and pundits. “What’s wrong? I thought you were. . .friends.”

He smiled at her, but it was tight, forced. “We’re more like business partners. It’s nothing. Let’s just enjoy the party.” They entered the room. People milled about, only sparing them the occasional glance and nod.

“Why is Peter’s highest-ranking general hosting a party for his political rival?” Xolia asked. That had to be a huge conflict of interest for the upcoming political season.

“It’s all part of the game, Xo. Who’s to say Peter doesn’t know this is happening? Maybe he suggested it—keep your enemy close and all that.”

“I know that.” But she had forgotten it. Xolia sank into herself. What happy memories she had accrued since the end of the rebellion were all hazy with the obliviousness of willful ignorance. Even if it had made her happy in that moment, she wasn’t happy now. The rich smell of food pulled her attention away from Adonis. “I’ll be right back.” She walked away from him, hating the way the loss of his warmth was palpable.

His dark head of hair disappeared into the crowd, an echo of their interaction at the gala. She had been so angry at his presence then, how things had changed in such a short amount of time.

Still, the promise of food dampened any sadness. Small finger foods were spread out in abundance over the table, and she helped herself to a small, sweet pastry that melted on her tongue when she took the first bite.

---