Page 46 of This Cruel Fate

She had debated asking Adonis for something that was suitable to wear, but their relationship felt fragile to her despite their declarations of trust. Slightly dissatisfied, but unable to do anything more to herself, she got up and slipped into a pair of shoes. The car would be at her apartment any minute to chauffeur her to the Presidential Palace.

Her phone chimed with a notification from the driver, and Xolia made her way down through the three flights of stairs and the lobby, the driver greeted her and opened the back passenger door for her.

Xolia tried to relax against the leather seats. She was excited to finally work with Peter, but the whole scene with Rowan still left her rattled. Underneath that, she missed Krista. So much of her life had changed, and without the constant guiding hand of Krista, Xolia was unmoored, floating from one person to the next. One opportunity to the next.

Xolia had had all the confidence in the world when she told Adonis she would advocate for herself to be the next Selermine, but they didn’t know what it would entail. What if the gods were actually real and they sensed her disbelief? What if the priests wouldn’t entertain the idea of buying the title of Selermine? It was something she couldn’t afford to mess up.

Just focus on lunch. Just lunch. She could do lunch. The drive to the Presidential Palace, while it probably took the same amount of time as always, felt like it was over in a minute. All too soon, they were ushered in through the iron gates, and the driver wound his way to the back of the building to Peter’s private entrance.

Lana, dressed in another impeccable navy pantsuit, waited just outside with a cheery smile. “Ms. Stone,” she said as soon as Xolia stepped down from the SUV. “Welcome. The chancellor is excited to have lunch with you, please come with me.”

“Lead the way,” Xolia said, stepping right behind Lana. They walked through the hallways of paintings and along the plush carpeting of the Presidential Palace.

Rather than going into the parlor on the right, they walked deeper into the wing than Xolia had ever gone, and Lana led her into an ornate dining room. The carpet gave way to rich and freshly lacquered wood flooring. A dining table set for eight took up the majority of the room, with Peter already seated at the head.

“Xolia,” he exclaimed, standing up to greet her. His movements were just as stiff as when they had met in the parlor, and Xolia rushed past Lana to meet him. Out of the corner of her eye, Xolia could see even cheerful Lana had adopted a more somber expression, her mouth set in a grim line.

Worry lanced through Xolia as she hugged Peter. He felt ephemeral next to her, like she might look away and he’d disappear. “Please, sit. The food will be brought out shortly.”

Peter sat back down, and he gestured to the other head of the table. Xolia was hesitant to sit so far from him, but she made her way with lead feet to the other end of the table and sat down in the high-back chair.

“Thank you for bringing her to me, Lana,” Peter said.

“It’s my pleasure, Chancellor,” Lana said, smiling. This time it was forced, brittle. “Enjoy your lunch.” She left and it was just Xolia and Peter. Unbidden tears threatened to spill down Xolia’s face. What a far cry this was from their first actual meeting seven years ago. He had been surrounded by guards and she had been prepared to kill him. Now, she was prepared to do anything to save him. To keep him in power.

“Xolia, I can’t tell you how relieved I was to wake up to your message the other day,” he said. “I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. I know how badly you wanted to be done with all this.”

“All of this would continue whether I did something or not,” Xolia said. “I wouldn’t be upholding what I fought for if I ignored it now.”

Peter smiled at her, and it felt like understanding. Despite their rocky start, he had never given up on her. He’d visited her when she had been in solitary confinement. It was he who had stopped the fledgling FAR from charging her with treason. Peter had always seen the best in her, even when Xolia was sure there was nothing ‘best’ in her.

“As you know, all of my policies aim to put variants and humans on equal footing. We will review specific laws and propositions I’m working on so we can present a united front. Once word breaks that you’re running as my VC, it’s going to be an endless media cycle.”

“I understand,” Xolia said. “I’m ready.” If she could push Rowan out of her mind, Xolia would be ready. She could be fighting again, albeit in a different way than she was used to, and this time, everyone would be looking to her. She wouldn’t have to work in the shadows. It was thrilling to think about.

A door behind Xolia opened, and staff brought out an array of plates and set them down on the table. They remained long enough to put portions on both Peter’s and Xolia’s plates, which was mildly discomfiting, and then left back through the door. “We employ some of the best chefs in all of Ris,” Peter said, wasting no time in digging into his food, though his bites were small and he took double the normal amount of time to chew.

He coughed, sending his whole body into a shaking mess. Xolia, having little experience with the ailments of humans, was rooted to her seat watching in unrestrained fear. Once the fit finally subsided, he took a small sip of water and went back to his food.

“Are you sick, Peter?” she asked, already anticipating, and dreading, the answer.

Peter swallowed. He nodded. Xolia’s stomach dropped. “Cancer,” Peter said. “And old age.”

An errant tear rolled down her cheek. “Will you get better?”

She didn’t know much, but she had heard the word cancer tossed around in the past. It was never good, especially not at his age. Why did humans have to die so young?

Peter shrugged. It was the worst thing she had ever seen. “All I can do is have faith that I will.”

Faith. How could he rely on something so fickle, something so easily manipulated by circumstance and money? “If you’re sick, why aren’t you keeping Atlas as your VC?”

“I could die any day, Xolia. I hope I don’t. There’s still so much that has to be done before Ris sees true peace and equity among its citizens.” Peter templed his fingers. “I want to hope for the best, but I do have to be realistic. Atlas and I don’t see eye to eye on much of anything these days. But I’ve always seen myself in you, child. If I die, the vice chancellor takes over. You’re the only one I trust.”

Xolia’s mouth dropped open. “Surely there are others with more experience.”

“Sure, there are. But they don’t have your heart. You care about your people. You were Silas’s staunchest defender. Ris needs someone who believes in her. Someone who can make Ris something to believe in.”

His words warmed her though the circumstances in which he told her them still left the tips of her fingers numb. Would Rowan agree with Peter’s words? Probably not. But that had just been one mistake. The country was still fractured. It would take a strong arm to bring order and justice. Xolia could be that, even if it wouldn’t be pretty. Rowan didn’t understand that. That wasn’t Xolia’s fault.

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