The tension in my shoulders lessens, though the stress is immediately replaced with the thoughts racing around in my head. Thoughts about taking the Persian Empire into a different direction….a less lethal and deceptive direction. Thoughts that I shoved away, as they were simply unrealistic distractions. Nothing worth my time. “Didn’t know you had a degree in career counseling. Guess you learn something new every day.”
Azula rolls her eyes. “My role as your second is to make sure your head is in the right space, and stay up to date on where we’re heading...” She takes a step closer to me as she reads the words on my laptop. “Care to inform me who the rat we need to kill is?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re trying to hack into someone’s tech, right? If it were one of our enemies, you would’ve broken through their firewall in a matter of seconds at most. But you’ve hit a dead end. That means the security installed on their device is elite. Likely uses something your father made. So, either you suspect we have arat within the Empire or…or it's one of the Irish.” Her eyes widen.
Dammit. I should have known sooner or later, Azula would realize I’d been on edge more than normal. I don’t want her to get involved yet. Not until I’ve gathered more proof. I don’t need her thinking I’ve gone off the conspiracy theory deep end.
My silence may as well be an admission of guilt.
Her jaw clenches, eyes filled with rage. “Would this have anything to do with the fact that only your glass was poisoned at lunch?”
I give her a nod.
“I guess we have our answer as to why Declan’s glass came back clean, but why would one of his henchmen want you dead? Or at the very least, why would they be stupid enough to go behind Declan’s back and try to kill one of their strongest allies? Misogyny aside, the Irish would crumble without our tech and protection on the trade routes.” Azula rakes her fingers through her hair.
“I don’t think they did go behind Declan’s back. I think they were following his orders.” I feel a weight release from my chest, finally speaking the words out loud.
Azula’s jaw drops open. “What? Why?”
I search her face for any hints of doubt in me. Any hints that she may think I’m crazy. I find none. “I think he’s the one who killed my father, and his own. I have some evidence that points to him and I’m working on collecting more. He knows I’m onto him. Or at least he knows I no longer think it’s the Italians. So he’s coming for me before I can expose the truth.” And I would expose the truth. Even if it killed me.
Azula sits on the floor cross-legged and shuts her eyes. Her body is shaking with what I can assume is rage, and I watch as she takes in deep breath after deep breath in an attempt to collect herself. The whirring of the machines is the only noisethat fills the room for minutes until her eyes finally snap back open. “Why didn’t you tell me about this from the moment you suspected him? Why thehelldid you let yourself be alone with him at lunch?”
“I wanted to collect more evidence before I told anyone. I needed to keep the facade that everything was normal so he wouldn’t suspect I was coming after him.”
“Keeping his suspicions low shouldn’t eclipse your safety. I’m your second in command, dammit! Beyond that, I’m yourbest friend. I can’t protect you if I don’t know you’re actively putting yourself in danger.”
“No one, not even you, can fully protect me. That’s the burden of this job. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you think differently,” I caution.
Her nostrils flare, likely in irritation that I lied to her and pointed out the fact that she didn’t possess magical powers that allowed her to play god. “From now on, you will include me in your decisions.”
“Azula—”
“It’s not up for discussion. I won’t tell Cyrus or any of the inner circle, but you need to include me in your future plans.”
A fair compromise that was arguably much more than I had earned.
“So long as you won’t try to stop me and the plans I come up with.” I wouldn’t be restrained. Not even by my loved ones.
She clicks her tongue. “I won’t try to stop you, but I may try to improve your plans. I am a strategist after all.”
“Deal.”
“Deal,” she echoes, a dark smirk forming on her face. “So, where do we begin?”
8
DECLAN
The analog clock on my desk has been taunting me for the past three hours. Nightmares for me are a regular endeavor, but they’ve worsened since the loss of my father. Usually, I’d be able to roll back to sleep, the dream forgotten by the morning. Tonight is not one of those nights. My nightmare started similarly to the rest. I was having dinner with my father and Naser. The two were joking around as they normally would. In between discussing business updates, they would find the time to tease me about my inability to commit to a woman. This time, the collective sound of booming laughter was higher in pitch. In my dream, Zahra, sitting between her father and me, had an illuminating smile on her face that matched the melodic laugh falling from her lips. Our eyes lock together, and she shoots me a quick wink, as if we’d had a long-standing rapport of her busting my balls. I roll my eyes teasingly, all while pouring her a drink.
My father, Naser, and Zahra clink their glasses together in cheers, each taking a large gulp as the light in the room begins to darken. Almost instantly, everyone turns pale, Zahraclutching at her throat as blood starts to trickle out of her nose and mouth. I rush to help Zahra, laying her on the floor to begin CPR compressions, a feeble attempt to save the woman dying in front of me. Distracted by saving Zahra, I neglect to notice my father and Naser have also begun to bleed. A final faint breath comes from Zahra and the dead look in her eyes makes me sick. I look around to see my father and Naser also dead. A voice starts to fill the room, chanting over and over again.
You did this.
I had jolted awake a few hours ago, my entire body shaking, covered in sweat, and all I could do was rub at my hands. No physical blood is covering them, yet all I can see is red. Nightmares about not being able to save my father and Naser from their killer are bad enough. This new dream, in which I unintentionally cause Zahra’s death as well, is its own special type of torture. I had failed Naser already by not being able to protect him. I refuse to fail him again by not protecting his daughter. And yet I’d already managed to let him down.
