6
ZION
“Is that…” Kali slid into the seat across from me at the kitchen table. Her lips struggled in deciding whether to pull up or down. “Coffee?” Drawing the blue-and-white-striped cup closer, she stared at the caramel liquid filling the porcelain to the brim.
“I had some saved.” I simply couldn’t bring myself to use the coffee beans I’d stolen from Gedeon before.
The aroma was as bitter as his words if someone dared to challenge him, the flavor as strong as his need to protect those around him, and the shade of the drink reminiscent of his complexion in direct sunlight, when the breeze would tousle his dark waves across his forehead.
But instead of sunshine, today had graced us with a thick fog swirling behind the large windows. The minuscule water droplets masked the beginning of a new day, the mist rippling as if it was alive, its wisps forming the silhouette of the person whose departure pricked my soles with thorns on each step.
“Zion?”
My fork clanged against the plate full of pancakes I’d made for breakfast, the sound as harsh as the contours of steel appliances and counters, all gray, like the fog, like my mind, like my dreams.
“Huh?” I sipped my coffee, ignoring the burn destroying my taste buds.
“I was saying I have a shift at Vice tonight.” Kali fiddled with the handle of her cup. Sparkles bounced on its glossy finish. “We have to return from the city before nightfall.”
“It’s not safe right now.” Without knowing who the traitor—ortraitors—were among our ranks, our main bar had ceased being a secure location. “We still don’t know who the rat is and?—”
“Don’t put ideas into her head!” Jayla marched into the kitchen, flicking her auburn braid over her shoulder. “Tarri has today off, so if you take Kali away”—she snatched the last pancake from Kali’s plate and shoved half of it in her mouth—“I will convince her to goon stage.”
Reclining in my chair, I hooked an elbow on the backrest. “If you do that, I’ll change Ava’s schedule so she works on your days off.”
Jayla’s mouth popped open. The freckles around her nose were faint, with spring still too weak to fully coax them out. “You wouldn’t.”
“Believe me, I will.” Standing up, I gathered our empty dishes. “I will also convince Ava toperformwithout you.” I carried everything to the sink, silver and matte, the metal as cold as Gedeon’s flesh had been that cursed morning when rain had descended from the murky sky.
“She’d never agree to that.” Jayla lowered into my seat and stretched out her legs, her pink slippers standing out in the room full of muted shades. If Gedeon were here, he’d glare at her for daring to bring that monstrosity of blinding color into our common rooms.
But he wasn’t.
Everybody had eaten the tale of Gedeon being assaulted by Ilasall’s military crew and taken to their prison. It was commonknowledge that once thrown into the city’s cells, the poor souls never emerged again.
Doling out lies had been stupidly easy, but giving a speech to rally our forces and discourage any creation of factions, promoting unity, now that had been like walking on hot coals. I’d heard enough of Gedeon’s speeches to construct one myself, but its flow had poured out of me like acid. Venom. Poison.
Each word I’d formed had morphed into a petal of a yellow oleander, Kali’s chosen flower of death. If not for her unwavering presence at my side, I doubted I could’ve finished the monologue.
But it’d worked.
The web of lies had taken root, and Kali and I became the lone guardians of the truth.
Running the plates and forks under the tap, I drawled, “Sadira said the same thing.” It hadn’t even been hard to convince the leader of our tech team to climb onto the stage at Vice. The woman had owed me an unspecified favor, and that was that.
Jayla scoffed. “She only agreed because?—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kali cut her off, her assurance as sharp as the blade of the knife I was scrubbing with a sponge. “I’ll be there. I need a break from everything, anyway.”
Since the first day of Gedeon’s…leave, she’d spent her days either in strategy meetings, training, or mulling over the reports our people brought in. The breaks she would allow herself had become lunches and dinners, when she’d grab a bite from the kitchen and return to what had used to be Gedeon’s study.
Once, I’d caught her hovering in the doorway of our dining room and staring at the shadows dancing on the walls. The dark shapes whirled and leaped from one spot to another, encouraged by the large cut-out lampshades spinning around the light bulbs.
Tears had marred Kali’s cheeks—an endless river of glittering liquid in the faint illumination.
My fists curled at the memory, and a hot sting bloomed across my palm. The ache slowly spread to my fingertips, following the trail of warmth gushing out of the slice the knife I was cleaning had left.
The flow of water carried the scarlet away, sucking it into the drain, erasing any evidence, similar to how the blackness of Gedeon’s shirt had masked the blood spreading around his stab wound all those weeks ago.
