“There is now. It had always only been me.” I recognized the loneliness that laced his words.
“How have you been a disappointment? You’re Elite,” I scoffed.
“A story for another day, sister,” Gregory told me. “Let’s go see what yourkindMate has to say.”
The Pod stopped at one of the seven identical megastructures, but there was no antechamber like the other buildings had. Instead, the Pod hovered at a balcony that jutted high above the clouds, defying gravity and sanity. The clouds were so thick, the ground lay hidden. As the doors opened, frigid air swept into the Pod, instantly chilling me to the bone.
Gregory rolled his neck as he stood and stepped onto the balcony and disappeared inside. I clung to my bag and clutch in one hand as I stood petrified. Uttering a prayer to any ancient forgotten gods who might still be out there—who might still care—I took a deep breath and followed.
The walk across the balcony was terrifying. It made the walk across the bridge in the Sphere seem like a pleasant stroll. The wind whipped viciously, the air so cold I felt like I would freeze before I reached the doors. I tried my hardest not to look at the unending sky. My sore legs wobbled, protesting with each step as I walked through the doors and into the unknown.
The room was warm and welcoming. I didn’t know what I expected, maybe something formal or cold. Instead, I walked directly into someone’s living room. The room was cozy, the walls primarily windows. The tiled floors led to a sunken seating area that faced the one interior wall, containing floor-to-ceiling shelves. There were books on them. I had never seen books outside of the Archive. I resisted the urge to open each one and smell the pages. In the middle of the bookshelves was a heating hearth, and above was a piece of art—a piece IknewI had reassigned at some point. I took a couple of steps closer, the books and art holding my fear at bay, dropping the bag as I made my way, entranced, to the art. There was art in an Illum’s living quarters. Art with people in it.
It was a striking juxtaposition that stole my breath. Two figures stood in the painting. One, a fair-haired woman dressed in all white, looked outward as she walked away from the other figure in the painting. A man dressed in black stood by a tree, his eyes cast down, clutching his heart. A separation to them—a brokenness as the woman pulled away. Why was she leaving?
“Hi, Emeline” came a lovely voice, breaking the art’s spell. A woman sat on the couch hidden among an array of pillows.
Her midnight black hair fell over her shoulder in a loose braid, and her fern green dress resembled mine. She was breathtakingly beautiful in a way I knew ancient humans would have tried to capture, yet would never have done justice to.
She patted the seat next to her, closing a book. “Come join me. They might be a while.” She glanced behind me. I turned to find Gregory leaning against one of the windows, his hands trapped behind his back as he looked down at the woman, his face unreadable.
“Nora.” Gregory nodded in her direction but didn’t move.
“Gregory,” she said, her voice like honey.
I slowly approached the woman as she stood. She was so petite and slender, her steps dancelike and graceful. She extended her delicate hand, and I took it. Heavy lashes framed her sapphire eyes, eyes I knew. “I’m Nora. It’s nice to finally meet my brother’s Mate.”
“Collin is your brother?” I asked, flustered. It seemed obvious, as she said it: She was the spitting image of him.
“He hasn’t mentioned me?” Nora placed a hand over her heart, her blue eyes alight. “How inconsiderate of him. I shall make him rue that choice.” She winked at me, smiling wide. “Would you like some tea? Collin had your morning scan sent over. I believe your morning meal will be ready shortly.”
“Tea would be nice, thank you,” I responded. I wondered how much power Collin had to have my morning scan already sent over this quickly.There is no one like your Mate.
I took a seat on the large sofa among tan pillows. A tea service sat on one of two identical rectangular taupe marble tables. Nora passed a cup to me before sitting beside me with her own.
The art captured my attention once again.
“It’s calledSeparation,” Nora said.
“I was unaware the Elite had art and books,” I admitted, taking a sip of tea.
“The Elite don’t really. The Illum do.” She patted her worn book. It looked old, the pages yellowing, the leatherbound cover tattered.
“What are you reading?” I asked, unable to help myself.
Nora smiled. “Just a story about a man who desperately loved a woman.”
A disgruntled sound filled the space. Nora’s gaze sharpened, finding Gregory. “Why are you lurking, Gregory?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m following orders, Nora. I’m to stay,” Gregory drawled from the window. “I’d like nothing more than to leave. Find my bed and a tonic for the pounding.”
“Still drinking and partying then?” Nora sneered, cutting Gregory a vicious look. For all her ethereal beauty, she had a quiet ferociousness to her. I immediately liked her.
Gregory cast Nora a taunting grin, spreading his arms wide in a mocking bow. “Forever guilty.”
“Deplorable,” Nora shot back, sipping her tea. “Nothing’s changed.”
There was a gleam in Gregory’s eyes as he sized up his adversary. He opened his mouth to retort, but quickly closed it, the picture of apathetic indifference, as Collin strode into the room, Phillip at his side. They ignored Gregory.
