Page 74 of This Cruel Fate

Xolia slumped over in her seat. “You did really good today,” Bridget said. “I’m proud of you, and I know Chancellor Bellevue will be too.”

“Do you think so?” If Peter was disappointed in her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

“I do. You should take tomorrow off, or later today, I guess.”

Xolia shook her head. “No. I need to be there. I need to talk to Peter.”

Adonis got into the car and turned the key. Bridget tried to protest Xolia’s decision but was quickly silenced. There was no going back for Xolia, if she had any doubts about what she was doing, it was too late now.

Chapter Thirty

Xolia stared at her closet. The Selermine pendant rested against her skin, falling right between her breasts. The metal remained cool against her, even though she’d been wearing it all morning. Xolia grabbed a long-sleeved cape dress. It wouldn’t cover the scar, but she hoped the cape affixed to her shoulders would provide some sort of distraction from her neck. She slid into the garment and left the room to find Adonis, who was sitting in the living room.

The television was turned on to the Risian National News Network, and all the coverage was of her. It showed blurred footage from the actual Selermine trial, which was weird, in an alluring way, for Xolia to watch. Even with the pixelation, she could make out what was happening—the rolling of her head after the sword came down. The anchor shared more footage from last night, and she and the co-host speculated about what it meant for the country and politics to have such a mythical religious figure in their midst.

“Has the news all been positive?” Xolia asked. She stood in front of Adonis who dutifully zipped up the back of the dress for her.

“It’s evenly split from what I’ve seen. Though the negative press is really bad. Please keep your guard with you at all times.”

She nodded. Even if she could hold her own in a fight, there was something intimidating about walking with armed guards. When Peter had had his guard right after the war, it had made him look that much more important—showing that he, above everyone else, was worth protecting. “I think we’re as ready as we can be for the announcement.”

“I agree.”

She kissed him before going down the elevator to the lobby, where Isiah was waiting for her. “Good morning,” she greeted. Isiah nodded, and he trailed behind her to the waiting car that Peter sent every day to escort her to the palace. There were no throngs of reporters waiting for her, which Xolia was relieved to find. If she had to answer any more questions about being the Selermine, she would explode.

She was even more relieved when the car passed through the iron and guarded gates of the Palace grounds. She was safe here. The car pulled around to Peter’s wing of the building where both Bridget and Lana were waiting for her.

They exchanged greetings and went inside to the heated hallways. Isiah remained a respectful distance behind them. Lana took them up a flight of stairs to get to one of Peter’s favorite studies. It wasn’t a room used for televised addresses or meetings with the Senate, it was more intimate.

When they reached the hallway, Atlas stepped out of the study room, and he made eye contact with Xolia. They each froze.

“Vice Chancellor Campion, I didn’t know you were meeting with Chancellor Bellevue,” Lana said.

Atlas forced a polite smile. “It wasn’t scheduled.” His eyes flicked down to Xolia’s exposed neck. “I didn’t know you were that religious, Xolia.”

She wanted to cover the scar with her hand but stopped herself from moving. All in. “I believe in protecting variants and continuing our crusade for peace between variants and humans, just as Sel does.”

He scoffed. “How can there be peace when we fundamentally don’t understand one another?”

Bridget tried to intervene, but Xolia shook her head. She was tired of hiding from Atlas and tired of losing to him. “Perhaps under your leadership they were unable to understand each other.”

Atlas shrugged and checked his watch. “Perhaps. If you’ll all excuse me, I have to run to my next appointment.” He walked through the small crowd and stopped right by Xolia. He whispered, “Are you still so desperate to act like Silas?”

“What?” she asked, but he was already down the hall, not looking back once. Xolia fumed. He’d still managed to get the last word in, to throw her off balance, and he didn’t even need to stay and gloat because he knew he’f won.

“What did he say to you?” Bridget asked.

Xolia shook her head. She wasn’t trying to act like Silas. Silas had planned to overthrow FAR. She was working to save it. You made yourself a religious figurehead to save it. But isn’t that exactly what Silas would have done? He taught you to go as far as it took. Xolia’s stomach sank. If Silas was alive, would she be seeking him out, wanting to hear he was proud of her?

Xolia opened the door to Peter’s study. He was sitting against a high-backed chair, behind a solid mahogany desk. Papers covered the desk, and there was a small television on the wall next to the door, where news coverage of the Selermine trial played.

Peter stood near the entrance. His movements were stiff, and he looked older than his years. Frail, losing hair. A dead man walking. She ran to him to avoid him having to move more than necessary. “Peter.”

“Xolia, I’m so glad to see you’re okay. This video is horrible, did they really do that to you?” he asked, his eyes scrunched in concern. He had a hand on her shoulder that weighed so much less than it should’ve. It was so far from the firm handshakes he used to give when they’d first met.

In his paternal presence, Xolia doubted whether she would have betrayed Peter to do Silas’s bidding after the war. Peter had never hurt her or betrayed her or constantly compared her to Atlas. But Silas made you who you are.

“I did it for you,” she said, touching her scar. “The church will back FAR no matter what. I’m going to make sure we win this.”

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