Page 38 of This Cruel Fate

“What?”

“Endorse me. I’ll be making my official announcement at the end of the month. Give me your influence, your vote. I’ll make you the head general of the new Risian army—an army of variants.”

“You offer me General DuBois’s job in his own home?” Xolia crossed her arms. “And you’d have me be exactly who I was during the rebellion?”

“No.” John leaned forward. Xolia took a step back. “You’re misunderstanding me. Peter wastes the potential of variants. I’m not trying to force anyone. I want variants to embrace their true nature and fight for the country. Keep the peace in our borders and beyond. Get paid for it.”

Maybe Xolia couldn’t parse out her feelings about violence and her relation to it, but just one thought about Marshall or Rowan was enough to know variants were not inherently drawn to violence. She was broken—by war, circumstance, or some misfire in her brain. His proposal was no better than her past, salary or not. Nor would it be true power.

Even though his words left her on edge, she laughed. Right in his face. “If you think any variant will vote for that, you’re an idiot.”

He just shrugged, an entirely relaxed gesture. “Maybe so. Lucky for me I don’t need the whole population’s vote, just the majority. And humans are pretty united in their regard for your people. If your little bureau hasn’t had to deal with the Human Rights Initiative yet, they’ll have to soon.”

For the first time since she had started talking to him, fear lanced through her. She didn’t know how united humans were, or much of anything about their opinions. She couldn’t let him know any of that. Not here. Not now. She wanted to laugh at him again, with all the confidence of a minute ago, but nothing happened. “Humans are fractured in their beliefs. You’ll never win.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” John stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fear has a way of uniting people.” He left her with that, disappearing under the canopy of vines back up to the party.

Xolia shivered; her arms were covered in goosebumps, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. Instead, she continued further down the path, the gravel shifting under her feet. At the base of the small hill that the house was perched on, there came a fork in the path. Xolia went left to a trail that wrapped close to the house. A covered veranda with a fire came into view. Two figures were huddled closely together on one of the seats facing her.

Some forgotten instinct tugged at her. This was a private moment, and yet, she couldn’t tear herself away from watching them. Careful to slip her heels from her feet, she walked barefoot on the frigid gravel to hear the pair. Xolia stopped when she made out the dark head of hair and the beautiful blonde draped across a chaise. The woman was leaning over into the man’s space. Adonis was hiding out in the cold with Helen.

Chapter Seventeen

It took every ounce of Xolia’s self-control to stay hidden amongst the shadows of the path. She had thought that Helen was more of a nuisance to him, but this tete-a-tete was far too familiar.

She tried to keep her breathing even, she didn’t want to betray her presence to the two of them. What she focused on instead was quietly inching forward, crouching to hide close enough to listen in on their whispered conversation.

A conversation, she found out, that was very one-sided. “I can send the twins with you if you want,” came Helen’s low and frustratingly melodic voice.

“Fine,” came his short reply.

The twins? Xolia hadn’t thought about them in years; they had been Adonis’s closest friends during the rebellion. Why were they working under Helen?

“I want everything ready by the next fight,” Helen continued. “Now that Peter’s announced his campaign, everybody else is going to follow. Clemont is mobilizing all of his support, it’s time we do the same.”

Adonis leaned away from her, his silhouette nodding along at her words. Support? For her?

“Sel, there’s so much we need to get done.” Reproach crept into Helen’s voice. “And you’ve been impossible to get ahold of. My dad has started asking questions, you know.”

“He’s probably asking where you are now,” Adonis said. “You should go back inside.”

She scoffed. “The bastard’s probably getting drunk and sharing all of his favorite war stories. I can’t believe you came here with Xolia.”

Xolia stopped breathing at the mention of her name. She hadn’t hated Helen before, but now?

“You don’t own who I spend my time with,” he retorted.

“I own you,” she answered. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Go back to the party, Helen.”

Helen sighed but stood up. Xolia froze, unsure if she should hide or act like she had just stumbled upon them. In the end, she moved off the path and crouched amongst the lingering vines. Helen didn’t look away from the path. When she was gone, Xolia turned back to Adonis.

He had stood up while she was looking away. He stuck his hand into the red flames, pulling all the tendrils up along his arm. Fire had always been a point of interest for Xolia. It was the hardest element to master. Air was everywhere. The earth was everywhere. Even water was always near. But fire was elusive. Short-lived. Adonis always wielded it with a feral grace. He was fast and deadly, a good combination, especially when confronted with the more brutal and stocky earth wielders.

Once all the flames were wrapped around Adonis, he snuffed them out, leaving him shrouded in darkness. “Dammit.” He kicked at the fire ring, the metal clang ringing out over the quiet of the night.

“Rough night?” Xolia asked, stepping up to the small patio area.

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