Page 54 of This Cruel Fate

“Thank you for your interest in this position.” For the first time that day, Xolia took the initiative in leading the conversation.

She could almost feel the pride radiating off Peter, and she sat up straighter, both wanting to bask in his approval and see if she could be certain of Bridget’s identity without raising Peter’s suspicion. If she was somehow unregistered, like Helen, but without the help of an influential father, she was worth having around.

“Thank you for having me here today,” she answered.

Xolia had a few filler questions in mind after listening to Peter’s succinct way of interviewing three other people. She was still trying to figure out how to ask what she wanted to know. She asked about prior job history, how her skills were transferable to this job, if she was prepared for such a huge workload. Bridget had extensive work experience to pull from for each answer. And they were high-profile jobs as well. So she was ambitious too. That boded well for Xolia. She raised a brow and thought of her next question to ask.

“Which of FAR’s policies is closest to you?” Xolia asked.

Bridget smiled. Perfect teeth, Xolia noted. “During the Wright Administration there was a particularly violent string of protests between humans and variants. Variants wanted more rights; humans were comfortable with things as they were. Until hundreds of them died. My father lost his life during those protests, but variants were given their own schooling in the barracks. I’ll never forget that. How could I lose something so special to me, while an entire group of people were given something just as precious? I want to spend my life giving to people without taking from them. It’s the only way forward.”

Xolia leaned back in her seat, soaking in Bridget’s words. President Wright governed Ris almost forty years ago. Which Xolia knew because of the schooling she got while in the barracks, in between the countless hours of drills and patrols. She had never been taught that their access to education was something that had been so recently given, though, not during her primary schooling or the secondary schooling she got after the war and her time in solitary confinement.

“The loss of a loved one is something we never quite get over,” Peter said. Silas came to Xolia’s mind. Unbidden. Unwelcome. “Why did you wait until now to try and work in the government?”

Xolia snapped out of her thoughts to stare at Bridget, hoping she would betray something of being a variant.

“I didn’t think I had anything to offer,” Bridget said. “Now I do.”

It didn’t give Xolia any further clarity. But I can wait for that. “The job is yours,” Xolia blurted out.

Peter started next to her, giving her a wide-eyed stare of horror.

Even Bridget appeared surprised, her eyes darting between the two of them.

“Wait,” Peter said, suppressing a wracking cough. “Could I speak to Xolia for a minute? Alone?”

Bridget graciously left the room, and Peter whirled to Xolia, well, as fast as he was able. The coughing fit returned, and this time he made no move to hide it. His entire body shook with the force of each stomach-deep cough. Xolia could do little more than look on in terror. She had never known an illness like that, something that would turn your own body against you. With Peter’s slight frame, she worried he’d crack a rib.

Once he calmed down enough to drink water, he drained the small cup that sat next to his arm on the desk. Wordlessly, Xolia slid her own untouched glass over to him, which he also drained.

“I know it’s sudden, but she’s the only person I’ll work well with,” Xolia said, preemptively assuming what he wanted to talk to her about.

Peter cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to rush into anything. We haven’t seen half the candidates.”

“I know.” Xolia debated between pleading with him and just asserting her choice. “This is my decision, though. I want to trust that you trust me enough to make the right decision.”

Peter’s eyes softened. It was a paternal look that tugged at Xolia’s heart. No matter how frustrated they were bound to get with one another throughout the race and beyond, he would be the closest thing she had to a parent. The closest thing to a good parent. For how much longer? She would not forget his cough or bloodshot eyes anytime soon. “I trust you, Xolia. If you think Bridget is the best option; of course we can hire her. I know you didn’t want this, and I can’t tell you how proud I am to see you fall into the role so naturally.”

Tears threatened to fall. It was so different from Grant Howard’s words all those weeks ago. That she could never be a leader. “I listened to people who convinced me this wasn’t what I wanted. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Peter reached over and gave her a hearty one-armed hug. Xolia leaned into the comforting touch. There was an undeniable safety in it. “Okay, let’s go get Ms. Halding hired and on the payroll.”

Xolia left Peter’s embrace and opened up the door. Bridget was patiently waiting outside. Glancing back at Peter, who was staring at the table, Xolia gently closed the door behind her. Bridget looked up at her, a question in her gaze.

“What’s your element?” Xolia asked, the barest hint of a command in her voice. She wanted to work with Bridget, but she needed to confirm what she already knew to be true.

Bridget hesitated, her eyes shifting between quizzical and guarded. “Air.”

“You’re not 47.”

The older woman shook her head. “157.”

She was older than the oldest registered variant. She was also almost the same age as Silas. He’d made it to 180 before his murder. If she wasn’t careful, that line of thinking could send her down another spiral. “Did your dad die during the protests?”

She shook her head. “Not during those protests. He was also an unregistered variant. He left my mom when she started to show signs of aging. He died over a hundred years ago, and I’ve been in the shadows since.”

“A century?” Xolia asked. “Why did you wait until now?”

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