Page 68 of This Cruel Fate

She shook her head. Flashing red lights lit up the otherwise quiet street. Law enforcement had arrived. Xolia cursed and pushed the woman away from her. She knew what detainment meant for a variant and didn’t need to make an enemy of the Underlings. The woman scampered away.

“Are you okay?” Adonis asked.

Am I okay? Xolia turned away from Adonis and tried to ignore the approaching officer. What had she said to that woman? Nothing felt as right, nothing as true to herself. But dear Sel, that wasn’t what she was trying to do, was it? It wasn’t as if there was no one else who could help her people, just that she was the most qualified. In two days, she would be the Selermine. That was as good as royalty. It was royalty. Her phrasing just needed a little work, she decided. It was a communication issue, the message itself was sound and justifiable.

“I’m okay.” She smiled at Adonis and allowed the officer to run down his list of questions about her assailants. Xolia answered as vaguely as possible and lied when asked if any group had taken responsibility for the attack. She shivered when the officer walked away, so that he could confer with his partner. Adonis placed his suit jacket over her shoulders, and the warmth and scent of cedarwood wrapped her up.

“This feels vaguely familiar,” she said with her eyes closed. Without their surroundings, and just the feel and scent of his jacket, it was easy to imagine herself back at the gala.

“I do like the change that my jacket will end up in my closet at the end of the day.” Adonis nudged her with his shoulder. “Who knows what happened to it while you were slumming it?”

Xolia huffed out a laugh. “I think we’re still slumming it compared to some of these people.”

“Very much so.”

In the wake of the flashing lights of law enforcement, their imbecilic staff taking pictures, and Xolia talking to Adonis came the even more smothering vans of the press.

“Bridget couldn’t have planned this night better if she tried,” Xolia said as reporters and cameras made their way toward the pair.

“Maybe she did,” Adonis quipped.

One reporter walked up to the pair. The woman was strangely familiar. Xolia furrowed her brows trying to place where she had seen her before.

“It’s Violet,” Adonis whispered to her.

Xolia’s eyes widened as she made the connection. Violet had always been drawn to the public aspect of their rebellion, helping to hijack newscasts and spreading the word of the variants’ plight to the country.

“Xolia, Adonis,” Violet greeted. “I’m sorry we have to be reunited in circumstances like this. Would you be willing to give a statement?” Violet waved over her accompanying cameraman, the camera a large contraption that rested over the man’s shoulder and almost completely obscured his face.

“Of course,” Xolia said.

Violet cued up a smile that looked more practiced than sincere and stood with a microphone held just below her chin until some unseen cue spurred her into action. She introduced herself to the Risian National News viewers and gave a brief overview of what had occurred.

“I’m here with Xolia Stone, a variant who helped spearhead the Variants’ Revolution and the same woman who was just attacked outside the museum. Xolia, can you tell us what happened?”

The microphone was thrust into Xolia’s face. Xolia tried to opt for a more genuine smile. She couldn’t afford to offend variants or humans. This was for everyone. They needed to know they could rely on her. “I don’t consider myself a victim of a targeted attack. Everyone is scared right now, and it can be easy to lash out. I hope that the variants who were so misled understand that I cannot side with variants or humans more than the other. I put aside my prejudices the minute FAR freed us. I urge all of Ris to do the same.”

A hint of sincerity crept into Violet’s expression. “How do you feel about the increase of variant-led attacks on humans? Do you think this is related?”

The question made Xolia squirm. Seeing the abused wealth in the museum would have sent Xolia into a tailspin if she were a variant who had been led around by the bureau for years with nothing to show for it. “Again, I urge Risians to find common ground as citizens. I can’t say I’m familiar with any violence from variants.”

“Thank you,” Violet said. She said a few closing remarks and directed viewers back to the main anchors. “That was fantastic, Xolia. Much better than your last gala speech.”

Xolia curled her lips. “You watched?”

“Every journalist watches the PAN.” Violet lowered the microphone and handed it off to the cameraman.

“We’re loading up in ten,” the cameraman said as he grabbed it from Violet.

Violet nodded, and the man lifted the camera from his shoulder and turned back in the direction of the van.

“Violet,” Adonis said. “You look well. I didn’t know you were running your own segments.”

“I’m not,” she answered. “I’m filling in, normally I’m just on the writing staff.”

“You sounded very natural,” Xolia said.

Violet smiled. “Thank you. This story was actually a great opportunity for me to get in front of the camera. I’m still sorry you were attacked, though.”

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