The Medis came in the night. They heard of the growing rebellion and needed a scapegoat. Needed to set an example to keep the rest in check. They blamed Riva and, by extension, Kasimir.
The rest is history.
Of course Nazirah agrees with the rebels! But she has already been through so much. She has already lost so much.
What Nazirah really wants is to take her brother and Cato and run. Run as far away from the Medis and the rebellion and the threat of war as she can. But she doesn’t know where they would go. And she doesn’t think they would make it very far. And she knows the other two wouldn’t come. Cato, maybe, could be convinced. But not Nikolaus. And Nazirah would never leave without him. He is the only family she has left.
So Nazirah will stay.
But she won’t like it.
“Irri, snap out of it.” Cato waves his hand in front of her face. “I could be having a more exciting conversation with these carrots. In fact, I think I am.”
“Sorry, Cato,” Nazirah says guiltily, intent on giving him her full attention this time. “You’re right … it is a who that’s bothering me.”
She and Cato met in school, although Nazirah was only ever allowed inside the annex. She was five, he was six. One afternoon, some Eridian bullies cornered her outside. Cato defended her, even though the boys were older and bigger. By the end of the day, Nazirah and Cato had matching black eyes and their friendship was forever solidified. Cato is closer to her than Nazirah’s biological brother.
“And that person would be?”
“Captain Jerkoff, who else?” She sighs dramatically.
“He’s Captain Jerkoff this week, is he?” Cato snorts. “How original. And does Captain Jerkoff know that’s how his sister lovingly refers to him?”
“I don’t know,” Nazirah says. “Probably.” She watches as some fellow recruits enter the mess hall. “Commander Jerkoff is more appropriate. I haven’t seen him enough to ask which name he prefers.”
It’s true. Her brother has been practically nonexistent in Nazirah’s life for years. Nikolaus was always the golden child of the family, the one who grew off Riva’s teachings to become a political activist and rebel. He is five years older than Nazirah, and at twenty-three has accomplished more than most intermix do in their lives, becoming the youngest commander of the entire rebellion.
“Irri, he’s grieving in his own way,” Cato reminds her gently. “Just give him some time. He’ll come around.”
Nazirah eyes him skeptically. Cato has known Nikolaus practically his entire life. They both know Nikolaus isn’t just grieving. “We don’t exactly … mesh,” she grumbles. “And now I’ve been summoned to meet with him regarding a ‘matter of extreme importance.’ I’m supposed to go to his office tonight after Territory History.”
Although Nazirah wants nothing to do with the rebellion, part of the agreement for her staying at the compound is that she trains and learns with the other recruits. All recruits endure an intense series of classes and combat training before they are officially initiated into the rebellion. Nikolaus told her it would look like he was playing favorites if she didn’t join them.
Nazirah hates combat training and weapons education, and is bored out of her mind during Territory History. But she does enjoy meeting other intermix and refugees. Headquarters thrives with a diversity Nazirah never imagined before. It makes her heart ache, because she wishes her parents could experience it too.
“The ‘matter of extreme importance,’ Irri, is probably that you never go to Territory History.”
“I haven’t seen him in weeks!” Nazirah rants, ignoring Cato. “He didn’t even ask me in person! He sent Sergeant Patch to tell me.”
“Sergeant … Patch?”
“I don’t know his real name, Cato, obviously.” Nazirah throws up her hands. “It’s Nikolaus’s lackey strategist. You know,” Nazirah gestures conspicuously to her face, “the guy with the eye patch.”
Cato’s expression is a mixture of amusement and reproach. “You call him Patch?”
“Not to his face.”
“It’s actually Aldrik.” Lumi Grigori sits down gracefully across from Cato. She tosses her long golden hair over one shoulder, an effortless motion that Nazirah thinks must be practiced. Lumi is tall and leggy, with paper-white skin and icy blue eyes. She’s a prime example of pure Ziman blood. Her frosty personality fits her well. Nazirah is about to tell Lumi exactly where she can go, but Cato shoots her a sideways look and kicks her under the table.
“Thanks, Lu,” he says.
Cato is a true Eridian gentleman. He is always nice to everyone – not because he has to be, but because he wants to be.
Nazirah mimics Cato in her sweetest tone. “Yeah, thanks Lu.”
“Of course, Cato,” Lumi says, ignoring Nazirah. She flashes Cato a toothy smile, flicking her hair to her other shoulder. Nazirah inwardly groans. It’s painfully obvious that Lumi has a thing for him. But since Cato is the densest boy on the planet, Nazirah will have to deal with Lumi’s self-aggrandizing, preening mating rituals until he gets the point.
Lumi is the eldest of three snowy Grigori daughters. Her mother died in childbirth, when Lumi’s youngest sister, Yuki, was born. Yuki is now twelve, Aneira fifteen, and Lumi eighteen. Her father was once the most powerful Lord in Zima. Lumi was raised like royalty in a stone manor overlooking the icy mountains of the North, and wanted for nothing her entire life.
A few months ago, civil unrest erupted throughout Zima. Lumi’s uncle, her father’s younger brother, took it as an opportunity to stake his claim over the Grigori land. With Medi soldiers backing him, he attempted to assassinate Lumi’s family. A close confidante tipped them off in the nick of time and the Grigoris fled. They left all of their possessions behind and traveled as far south as possible to Eridies. Lumi’s father enlisted in the rebellion, in return for the insurgents’ help restoring his power after the war.
On one hand, Nazirah sympathizes with Lumi and her loss. On the other hand, she wants to reach into Lumi’s throat and rip out her vocal cords.
“Anyway,” Nazirah says, returning to their previous line of conversation, “Aldrik cornered me today, demanding that I go see Nikolaus.”
“Do you have any idea what he wants?”
Nazirah doesn’t have a chance to answer Cato, as they are interrupted for a second time. Lumi’s younger sister, Aneira, their friend Taj, and a few other recruits sit down at their table. Cato shrugs at Nazirah sympathetically, dropping the subject.
Normally, Nazirah doesn’t mind Aneira’s company. She is by far Nazirah’s favorite Grigori. Aneira has an innate sadness Nazirah empathizes with. But Nazirah really wanted to discuss her reservations with Cato before seeing Niko. Not that she would have known the answer to Cato’s question, because Niko never tells her anything.
Nazirah finishes her lunch in silence.
Chapter Two
Nazirah lies in an overgrown meadow, a ways behind headquarters. The weeds, wild flowers, and long reeds hide her in plain sight. Head resting comfortably in the crook of her arm, one ankle crossed lazily over the other, Nazirah stares at the sky for hours. The clouds roll in, expand, change shape, and roll out again. The sun slowly trails across the heavens, afternoon light dimming, fading to dusk, and then turning deep blue. The stars come out, blinking themselves awake after their day of slumber.
This field is Nazirah’s secret hiding place, accessible through a weak link in the compound’s electrified fence, discovered during her first week at headquarters. She comes here when she feels overwhelmed, when her small room is too confining, or when she just wants to escape reality for a while … or forever.
She slowly runs her hand over rough blades of yellow grass. It’s still summer, although it’s warm in Eridies regardless of the time of year. Nazirah wonders briefly what seasons feel like, if the flowers in the front yard at home are overrun with weeds. They were only beginning to bloom when she left so abruptly in April. Riva would often pluck the f
lowers from their small garden and braid them skillfully, weaving vines and blossoms through Nazirah’s long chestnut locks. Nazirah could never quite manage it by herself. Riva had an elegance Nazirah does not possess. And now she isn’t around to teach Nazirah anything, anymore.
Nazirah picks one of the longest blades and begins knotting the stem, occupying her hands. She thinks about Rafu, not far from here. A few days’ walk, maybe. Only an hour’s drive, if Nazirah had access to a car, which she doesn’t. Barely anyone in Rafu drives. Only the wealthiest people can afford automobiles, and the roads are so cracked and dangerous that most prefer bicycling or walking.
The roads here in Krush are smooth and paved, because they’re much closer to the capital. The lines of communication are also better in northern Eridies. Nazirah has to admit that Krush is a perfect location for the rebels to keep tabs on Mediah and interact with other territories.
Nazirah has never been to the capital before, obviously. She has never even been outside Eridies. But she has heard stories, has seen images in books and on the small television in her home.
Skytowers so tall they rise above the cloud line. Lights so powerful they blind your eyes if you look for too long. Fancy cars and heavy smog everywhere. A complex network of bullet trains carrying resources from the four territories all day and night.
Nazirah never rode in a car until the night her parents died. Nikolaus, with his deep Eridian connections, had known about their parents’ murder almost as soon as Nazirah had. He came for her in a car, not an hour after she discovered them.
Nazirah remembers sitting on the porch, face red and raw from crying. She remembers the neighbors looking at her through their windows, pitying her, but unwilling to risk their lives by offering her comfort or shelter. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go inside, couldn’t watch the paramedics bagging the bodies. But she couldn’t just leave, either.
There, on her front step, the chorus of guilt that has plagued Nazirah for months began playing the first chords of its death march. What if she stayed home that night and hadn’t snuck out? What if she was there to defend her parents? Why hadn’t she joined the rebellion sooner? Why hadn’t she kissed her mother goodbye? When was the last time she told her father she loved him? Why wasn’t she a better daughter?
So she sat, completely numb, and waited for absolution.
She is still waiting.
Niko arrived in a black sedan. He said nothing, just hugged her for the first time in years. Nazirah could tell he had cried, but when she saw him, his face was dry.
And that was it. He ushered her into the car, which made her even dizzier and more nauseous, and took her to Krush … to headquarters. Nazirah made him pull over several times so she could throw up on the side of the road.
They returned a few days later for the funeral. Since her parents were interracially married, they were banned from having a traditional Eridian burial. So Riva and Kasimir were cremated, and the two surviving Nations spread their ashes into the ocean behind their home. Following an old Eridian custom, Nazirah and Nikolaus lit paper lanterns on the beach and watched them gently float into the night sky.
Nazirah could not gather the strength to enter their home, so Nikolaus retrieved her clothing and belongings. They told no one, invited no one, but people still showed up by the hundreds. Family friends, acquaintances, Cato and his family, neighbors, and students that Riva taught over the years all came to say tearful goodbyes. Then the news vans had come from all over the country, lining the street like caravans. The story was national news, because the government wanted to use Kasimir and Riva’s death as a demonstration for the four territories:
This is what happens when you step out of line.
Two small headstones were erected in the sand dunes behind the Nation’s home, overlooking the azure sea. Nazirah yearns to go there again, to run her fingers over the smooth black stones, to feel closer to the deceased.
At times, Nazirah finds herself unable to recall the exact pitch of her father’s booming laugh, or the precise shade of her mother’s honey eyes. She finds herself forgetting. And of all the things that scare her, this scares her most.
Nazirah rises slowly, shaking and stretching the stiffness from her limbs. She takes her time walking back, uneager to return to headquarters. She came to the field directly after lunch, skipping both dinner and Territory History. Her teacher, Ms. Bairs, probably wants to strangle Nazirah by now, but Nazirah knows Cato will cover for her. He covers for her a lot, because Nazirah cannot muster any enthusiasm for participating in recruit training. She does the bare minimum to get by. And, although her teachers initially let her absences slide, they are quickly losing patience.
Nazirah enters through the back door of the main building and walks through the deserted hallways. Exiting the staircase on the floor that houses the girls’ dormitories, she briefly checks the time.
7:15pm.
There’s still over an hour to kill before she meets Niko.
Nazirah pushes open the door to her bedroom and throws herself onto the bed, shoes still on. She misses her room at home. It was south facing, and her windows were always open to let in the salty breeze. Here, her room is tight and cramped. It has none of the comforts of home, for Niko didn’t think to bring anything besides her clothes. Her window faces a solid brick wall.
Only in this room does Nazirah cry.
In solitude, she allows herself to fully experience her guilt, grief, and loneliness. She felt lost before her parents died, in the way that an average intermix girl with few options in life and a huge chip on her shoulder feels lost sometimes. She would rebel against her parents, not listen to their advice, and sneak out of the house … just to assert her independence and power in a world where she truthfully had none.
Now, she is truly lost.
So lost that living feels more like dying.
So lost that Nazirah doesn’t remember the person she once was, much less know how to find her.
#
An hour later, Nazirah drags herself out of bed. She feels worse than she did before, and considers blowing Niko off and going right back to sleep. But Nazirah knows he will come banging on her door, eyes and neck veins bulging, demanding to know why she didn’t show up.
Nazirah walks sluggishly into the shared girls’ lavatory on her floor, thankful to see no one she knows. She quickly brushes her teeth and splashes water on her face, trying to erase the red from her bloodshot eyes.
She has her mother’s eyes: honeyed irises, almond-shaped, heavy-lidded with thick lashes. She also shares Riva’s olive skin and slender build. As a child, Nazirah hated being compared to her mother. She always thought of Riva as weak, and longed to be like the strong Kasimir.
Riva was never weak.
Nazirah didn’t realize that until it was too late.
Now, Nazirah likes to think a part of Riva lives within her – and that, every time she looks into a mirror, it’s her mother who stares back.
She can’t quite convince herself. Riva was always smiling.
Deep in thought, Nazirah braids her hair nimbly down her back, the strands bleached with copper highlights. “Cato’s looking for you,” someone behind her says.
Nazirah jumps and whirls around to face Aneira. “God, Ani, you scared me! You can’t sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry.” Aneira shrugs half-heartedly.
Aneira is fifteen, and has not yet grown into herself. She is tall, but gangly and flat-chested. She has Lumi’s beautiful blue eyes, but her facial features look out of proportion, their angles not quite working.
Nazirah feels unusually protective of her. Aneira seems lost too. Sometimes, Nazirah wants to give Aneira a huge hug and tell her everything will be all right, even though she doesn’t believe it herself.
“It’s okay,” Nazirah sighs, the annoyance in her voice gone. “I just get startled easily. Do you know what he wants?”
“I think he wants to make sure you’re okay,” A
neira says. “You weren’t in Territory History tonight, but he covered for you. Again.”
“Great,” says Nazirah, making a mental note to visit Cato after speaking with Niko. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure.”
Nazirah should ask Aneira how she is doing. Aneira is so unlike Lumi or even Yuki, both social creatures by nature. Aneira is quiet and introverted, and that’s probably why Nazirah likes her so much. But Nazirah really is late now, so she exits the bathroom without another word.
Nazirah walks quickly towards Nikolaus’s office on the other side of the building. She hopes that whatever this ‘matter of extreme importance’ concerns, Niko will make it short. It’s late, and it’s Friday, and Nazirah wants to sleep. Could Niko know about her and Cato sneaking tequilux from the kitchens last weekend? She doesn’t think it’s likely.
She smiles a bit, remembering. A few of the younger recruits gathered around a bonfire, drinking and laughing and dancing. Nazirah was happier that night than she had been in a long time, if only fleetingly.
Nazirah hopes Niko won’t try to convince her to sell their cottage again, before the government seizes it. Intermix are forbidden from owning property. Their cottage was listed under Riva’s name, because she was technically still an Eridian. But now it belongs to no one. Niko mentioned selling it a few months ago. Nazirah was so blindsided by the suggestion, she went berserk on him. He hasn’t brought it up again.
Nazirah also hopes Cato is wrong, and that Niko won’t get on her case about missing class. She has a feeling that might be where this is headed, but it still doesn’t explain the urgency. Unless the rebels already have her bags packed and out the door or something, which Nazirah cannot say she would hate.
Arriving at her destination, Nazirah walks in without bothering to knock.
Most people would never guess Nikolaus and Nazirah are siblings. Unlike Nazirah, who resembles Riva, Nikolaus Nation is the spitting image of Kasimir. Nikolaus is tall and built like a tree, with bulging arms, broad shoulders, and a wide trunk. His skin is pale, eyes a deep, earthy brown. His hair slightly curls at the top. Nikolaus is reserved, but not quiet. He is kind, but not compassionate; he is calculating, but not deceptive. Like Kasimir, Nikolaus has a laugh that can win over the greatest enemy.
Intermix Nation Page 2