“Here.” Locating the weight in my front pocket, I offered what could be considered a weapon to Kali. “With this, your fists will inflict more damage.”
She took the knuckles from me, the metal smooth and shiny. Yet not a glint bounced off the steel despite the night ebbing away. The sky, as drab as the morning Kali had stabbed me, bathed us in microscopic water droplets. As if nature was aware of our plans, a fog had been called.
Tentacles of mist swirled around our ankles, slithered under our clothes, raised the tiny hairs, coaxed me to check if my semi-automatic handgun was in functional order for the last time.
Stuffing the firearm back into the holster strapped to my upper thigh, I told her, “Keep them on your non-dominant hand at all times.” Otherwise, the metal could affect her aim when she used her own gun.
Mute, she slipped the knuckles on and tested the toy by flexing her fingers. Adjusted her grip. Twirled her hand. Removed and put the wearable weapon back on. Tested it again, too focused to notice our people spreading out, melting into the murkiness, taking their positions around us.
“Kali.” Covering her fist, I pushed it to her side. A droplet of dew dripped off an oak leaf, drenching her eyebrow. “It’s okay to be afraid.” Gods knew I dreaded any outcome where she or Zion ended up in a funeral fire.
Shifting from one foot to another, she ignored the squelching sounds the muddy forest floor emitted. “No, it’s not.” She gestured to the sea of bodies ready to fight to the death for a chance to dismantle Ilasall’s government. “Half of them are terrified. But they still stand. They look up to us, Gedeon. Zion and you have learned how to operate without trepidation, but the rest? Fear is knocking at their minds. They know not all will see tomorrow. So they turn to us—to lead them into battle. Me included.”
She tugged the sleeve of her dark green shirt up to her elbow. The ink, as dark as the deepest hours of the night, twined around her forearm, a depiction of three lush vines tangled around a knife. “I have the tattoo, don’t I? I’m supposed to know what I’m doing. What I’m walking into. What’s going to happen. I can’t let our people down. I can’t show hesitation or doubt. Or lack of resolve. So, no, it’s not okay for me to be afraid.”
“Itisokay,” I pressed, trying to drill the point into her. “You are fierce, little death, but even the strongest break.” Like how I was going to break the Head of Ilasall, the man who Sadira and Ryder had worked out likely to be?—
It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like that discovery would ever change the deal I had made with Kali. I had promised Peter’s death belonged to her, and I never went back on my word.
Stepping into her, I cradled her head, careful not to pluck out any strands carefully tucked into a high bun. “As long as you keep your chin high and march forward, everyone will follow you. They are not going to balk at you for displaying signs of apprehension. The opposite—it will help them relate to you. And that sense of unity, of the bond formed out of knowing you may never hold someone in your arms again, is what will inspire them to cover your back, take the bullet aimed at you, and do whatever it is necessary for their families and friends to wake up the following day and then the one after that. Having you stand beside them is enough, because that’s all we’ve got—each other.”
As her hands came to rest on my chest, she scrunched up my shirt, like she did any time doubts warred with logic inside her.
Paying no heed to the neckline digging into my nape, I savored the heat of her palms. “Four months ago, I would have chained you to protect you.” A chuckle rumbled out of me. “Now I know better.”
Like how beautiful she looked with a deadly weapon propped against her shoulder.
“But this?” I placed my hand on top of one of hers. “My pulse is racingbecauseI’m petrified. For you. For Zion. For our people. Only I don’t hide it and never will.” I scanned the tight-lipped smiles our army gave to their comrades. “It’s why they chose to come here today.”
She caressed the old gunshot scar below my collarbone. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I pulled her sleeve down to her wrist to conceal her tattoo. If the city’s military considered her as a fellow for even a minute, convincing her to wear the outfit would be worth it.
“Yes.” Kali cracked her knuckles, the release of air similar to a song of bullets. “Let’s do this.”
I cleared my throat to ensure my voice boomed across the ocean of bodies surrounding us. “Gather up.”
The disquiet permeating the atmosphere lifted. Ears perked up. Feet stomped. Crunches of dried branches, rustles of leaves, and swishes of clothing marked the beginning of war.
“Oh, shit.” Standing beside us, Jayla doubled over. “Cramp, cramp, cramp.”
Kali jumped to our friend. “What? What is it?
“I think my period just started.” Even the freckles adorning Jayla’s skin seemed to lose all color.
Faint footfalls betrayed Sadira elbowing her way to us. Her soft features wrinkled as she frowned at Jayla. “Are you sure it’s not just nerves?”
“I’m not anxious.” Jayla clutched her stomach, her yellow sweater out of place in an ocean of dark outfits.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to take a while.
Resigning to a short delay, I leaned against a maple tree. “Your forehead is shiny.”
“And you look like you’re about to vomit,” Sadira added as she tied the multitude of her thin ebony braids into a low ponytail.
“Well, thank you for the compliments.” Glaring, Jayla rubbed her lower abdomen. “It’s not like it’s you who will have to fight with the floodgates of hell open between your legs.”
Ryder popped up beside me. “Is your period really that bad?” he asked, tousling his tight caramel curls. They bounced around his shoulders, wild and untamed.
