Page 69 of This Cruel Fate

“It’s okay,” Xolia said, wiping away the small smear of blood from her already healed cut. This is why I have to make sure things stay right. FAR is working, I just need everyone to see that. Violet looked happy. She was doing better than she’d been before. Seeing her strengthened Xolia’s resolve. Nothing would deter her from her path.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nerves woke Xolia long before her alarm was set to go off. She lay in bed, listening to the steady inhale and exhale of Adonis’s breath. A hint of snow flurries brushed across the window of the high-rise apartment.

The first snowfall of the year on the shortest day of the year. It was unnatural for the snow to come so late, but for it to come on the day of her Selermine trials almost felt intentional. Xolia yawned, giving up any hope for another hour of unaffected sleep.

She got up to shower, spending longer than necessary under the scalding spray. She wiggled her fingers around, forming little shapes that resembled animals out of water. The small act reminded her of her childhood. In the barracks they’d been prohibited from having any toys. It had been a constant influx of puzzles, tasks, and schooling. As children, she and her comrades had had to make their own toys, and it became a status symbol among the children—who could make the most shapes and hold their forms the longest while they played amongst themselves.

Xolia wasn’t anything like that little girl anymore. The shapes came easier, and they pranced around her head and the shower, but there was no laughter behind the action. No joy. Just an imitation of fun. Xolia dropped her hands, letting the animals splash down into the drain. She made sure all the soap was rinsed off her body and hair was clean of conditioner before shutting off the water and launching herself into the rest of her morning routine.

By the time she left the shower, Adonis was gone from the bed, and the sweet aroma of syrup drifted into the open door of the bedroom. Xolia slipped into the pressed trousers and sweater that both hung in the closet and twisted her hair into a low bun.

In the kitchen she was greeted not only by Adonis but also by Bridget, who held a spatula in her hand and was serving three plates of pancakes. Xolia blinked. “Bridget?”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, wrinkles forming above the arch. A strange sight; Xolia still wasn’t used to seeing a variant who aged. There weren’t many around. “I saw the news. I think you undersold the other night.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” she said, sitting down at the bar next to Adonis. She hadn’t even known he had any food in the kitchen, as they never cooked.

“Regardless, it was probably the best possible outcome of the evening. Your name is everywhere, and you really sold human-variant unity,” Bridget said, settling into a stool to dive into her own plate.

Xolia scoffed. “You’re not even going to ask if I was alright afterward?”

“You fought in a war,” Bridget said. “And you’re a variant; if you’re alive, you’re alright.”

“Do you want to be coddled?” Adonis teased.

“No.” Though the first part of the question stuck in her head. Do you want? She did want, but she didn’t want to want. This feeling hadn’t been supposed to follow her once she left Marshall and the bureau. This feeling of wanting more, always more. She had a void in her soul, and the job with Peter was supposed to be enough to fill it.

Each bite was a struggle, and she stayed quiet while Adonis and Bridget made idle small talk. Xolia had only cleared away a quarter of her breakfast when she noticed the time. “We have to leave.”

Both Adonis and Bridget sobered, and Bridget cleared away the plates. “It’s going to be okay,” Adonis said, grabbing her hand and giving a comforting squeeze.

“I’ll be there, too, since I can’t trust you to stay out of trouble. I talked to the church, and we’ve arranged for security to meet us there,” Bridget said. “There are going to be more reporters and bystanders.”

Xolia nodded, thankful for the support. She drew in a deep breath. Together, they stepped into the elevator and descended into the parking garage.

The drive to the church was silent until Xolia spoke. “Does Peter know?”

“Of course he knows,” Bridget said. “What happens to you affects everything.”

Xolia thought about Peter’s cough and how it wracked his body each time he fell victim to a fit. He didn’t need to spend time worrying about her too. “I won’t let him down again.”

Adonis slid into a parking spot right behind the ancient building. The spires appeared even sharper than they had the last couple times Xolia had been there. The shadows around the scaffolding were somehow darker. It felt malevolent for the first time. Xolia shivered.

Adonis came around to open the door for her, and she placed her hand in the corner of his elbow. Bridget trailed behind them. Xolia hadn’t asked whether Bridget was religious or not. It didn’t really matter anymore, she supposed. She was there to support Xolia and that had to be enough.

Upon entering the building, that sense of evil dissipated and calm settled over Xolia. She found the painting of the first Selermine, the one she felt such a palpable connection to, and tried to pull strength from him again. It’s going to be okay. This is right. This is the right path. She tightened her grip on Adonis when Irvine entered the antechamber.

“Xolia.” He dipped his head. Xolia, Adonis, and Bridget responded in kind. Rather than the gray robes she had come to associate with the clergy, Irvine was in pristine white robes. Just like the white of FAR’s uniform at the end of the war. Her chest tightened. That day hadn’t ended well. Please let me not get shot today.

Xolia realized Irvine probably didn’t know who Bridget was. “This is Bridget Halding. She works with me.”

Irvine nodded. “I talked to her earlier. She arranged for you to meet with your new security detail here.”

“They’re from the Presidential Palace?” Adonis asked.

“Yes. I understand you’ll be working closely with him soon. Nothing is more important to the clergy than the protection of our Selermine and government,” Irvine explained, holding Xolia’s stare.

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