Page 75 of The Enemy's Daughter

It hits like a shock wave. The scene cuts off, leaving me dizzy and warm. So very warm.

“We might have to pick our battles,” Tristan says. “It’s not the end of the world to boil water indefinitely. It’s a whole other problem if we can’t get water to each household. Then we’re talking digging hundreds of wells and having to transport it in buckets like they do in the clans.”

How dare he send me a memory like that, then carry on like he’s picking dirt off his boot.

“That won’t happen,” Vador says. “Reinert insists he can repair the parts that are on their last legs. Running water isn’t our problem; the challenge is the supply of chemicals to treat the water.”

“Maybe we ration,” Tristan says. “A month where we boil water, a month where we don’t.”

Is he even the slightest bit distracted by what he just showed me? Tuning everything out, I rack my brain for the most intense, shudder-inducing memory I can think of with Tristan. Two can play this game.

But then an even better idea hits, and it’s so outrageous, I can barely contain my laugh. Who needs to send a memory when I can send him the actual thing?

“Our traders are having to go farther than ever before to harvest those specialized parts from previous municipalities, and not onlyis the price going up, but the parts are getting older. Maybe it’s time we go beyond the Republic and see what’s left out there.”

“Beyond the Republic?” Samuel repeats in disbelief.

Making sure the connection is good and tight, I brush my fingers over the bare skin of my other arm, taking time to focus on the tingly sensation.

“It hasn’t been possible before, but—”

With every intention that he receive it, I send it to Tristan, hoping it arrives just as my air kiss did this morning.

Tristan’s words choke off. His shock resonates all the way to the marrow of my bones.

I smother a laugh with my hand, imagining what his face looks like right now. A sunny warmth from him that I can only equate to a smile soon follows. He’s onto me.

“We can’t spare any of our trained people,” Vador says. “We need every single one to secure the border fence.”

I should go. Not only am I distracting him, but I need to find Enola. However, before I leave, I can’t resist one last parting shot. I allow my finger to find my lips, then I discover them with excruciating detail. The fullness. The tingly sensation as I follow the edge of the way they curve.

Send.

Tristan clears his throat. “It’s something to think about,” he says, his voice noticeably tight.

Sweet victory sails through me.

“And let me guess, you’d want to lead the charge,” Samuel says.

A chair scrapes against the floor, and an image of Samuel approaching flashes in my head—a warning from Tristan. Shoving off the wall, I bolt toward the front door with a huge smile. Then asan experiment as I leave, I whisper, “Going to Enola’s.” I carefully relive the memory of speaking those words while sharing it with Tristan. It’s a little awkward and more challenging than talking to him directly, but theoretically, I don’t see why speaking through memories wouldn’t work.

I feel his temptation to come after me. To maybe cancel both of our plans. He doesn’t, and the connection fades with each step I put between us, then vanishes completely, leaving only a vague sense of warmth behind.

25

The sun is hot on my brow as I knock on Enola’s door. Her house is smaller and wider than Tristan’s, since it’s only one floor. Full-bloom red roses edge the entire front porch. I reach out and cup one in my hand as my belly knots with worry.

Enola’s kindness and friendship has come to mean a lot to me. What exactly I’ll say to mend this, I don’t know.

Sorry for thinking you attacked the very people who have been attacking you for years.

No. Just keep it simple.

I should have stopped to listen to you. I’m sorry.

What if it’s not enough? What if she never wants to see me again?

The door opens, and I stiffen.

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