“I don’t need your help!”
“I beg to differ,” he says. “The first rule, Nation, is to always know your enemy.”
“Oh, believe me, Morgen,” she says, laughing coldly, “that is not my problem.”
“So why have you been ballroom dancing with this bag for the past five minutes, when you know I’m standing right behind you?”
“You admit you’re my enemy?”
He shrugs. “You certainly seem to think so.”
“Yes, I certainly do!”
“You’re so tense, Nation.”
“Leave me alone.”
Adamek looks irate. He takes a determined step forward. Nazirah steps backward, past the bag, trying to put more space between them. “Why won’t you fight?” he asks.
Nazirah wasn’t expecting that. And she doesn’t want to go there. She takes another step backward, but he matches her.
“Why won’t you fight?” he asks again, more harshly. He is quickly becoming unhinged and Nazirah thinks she should have left when she had the chance. She takes another step backward, her back hitting the wall. There’s nowhere left to retreat. Adamek is just a few inches away now, eyes burning in anger. “Why won’t you fight?” he shouts. He slams his fists into the wall on both sides of her. She flinches, can see it written all over his face. He already knows why.
“Go away!” she yells.
“Fight back!” Adamek shoves her shoulders into the wall, lifting Nazirah up so he can look her in the eyes. Her feet dangle uselessly a foot off the ground. She struggles against him and he laughs. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, princess.”
Nazirah slaps him with her left hand. Adamek growls, releases her shoulder and catching her hand in his. He pushes her entire arm back against the wall and Nazirah goes to slap him with her right hand. He anticipates the move this time, catching that one as well.
Nazirah seethes. She attempts to knee Adamek’s groin, but he presses his body up against hers, pinning her to the wall.
“I’m particularly fond of those,” he says, tracing the stitches above her eyebrow with his fingers. “So let’s not try that again.”
“Fuck off!”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“You’re a bastard!”
“That’s funny, princess,” he says. “Your father called me the same thing … before I shot him in the heart.”
Nazirah screams, throwing all of her weight onto Adamek and slamming her head into his face. He staggers backward, but she holds onto him. She chokes him with one hand, digging her fingernails into his wounded shoulder with the other. The pain in her head is blinding and her stitches have reopened. Blood drips into her eye and she feels about to blackout, but all she can think about is spilling the blood of Adamek Morgen.
Adamek hisses, wrenching her fingers away from his shoulder. He pulls her off him. She lands hard on the ground.
Nazirah jumps up and stands in front of him, gasping. She notices with satisfaction that his throat is covered with her claw marks. Nazirah glares, wiping blood from her eyes. He looks angry, yes. He looks like he’s in pain, good. But he also looks relieved. Like he has proven something to himself. Like he wanted this to happen all along.
Was this his intention in the prison as well? Had he wanted her to attack him, to fight him, to face him?
The guilt that’s eating Nazirah up inside is still there, but it’s different, somehow. She has finally confronted him. And somehow, she knows she won’t choke anymore. Somehow, she knows she can fight. And that’s a powerful feeling.
She hates him more than ever, but she’s also grateful.
“Why?”
He rubs his throat and rotates his shoulder gingerly. “You needed to be able to fight. You needed to let yourself fight.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
Nazirah sees the recognition in his eyes. “Don’t ask a question, if you don’t want to know the answer,” he says.
“Why did you do it?” she cries angrily, tears streaming down her face. She is letting him see her cry, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care at all. She holds her stomach in her hands, completely losing it. Then, she pulls hard on his shirt. “Tell me why!”
His gaze is distant. “There’s nothing I can say that will bring them back. It was an order. I followed it. End of story.”
“End of story?” she sobs, hoarse. “If only my story ended there!”
“I warned you not to ask.”
“I hate you,” she says, completely raw. “I hate you so much.”
She walks away.
He lets her.
And she doesn’t realize, until much later, that she never asked him if he regrets it.
#
The next day, Nazirah makes excuses for why she never showed up to the party. She says she wasn’t feeling well, that she was swamped with extra work. And, thankfully, no one pushes the issue. When she shows up at the emergency room, early Sunday morning, even Bilungi says nothing. She only looks at Nazirah staunchly, closing her reopened stitches.
Monday afternoon, Nazirah walks into the gymnasium to find three additions to the class. Nikolaus, Aldrik, and Adamek stand in a small circle with Grum, speaking privately. Nikolaus seems to be reassuring Grum, who looks even more irritated than usual.
The remaining recruits slowly file into class, glancing curiously at them. Even Lumi, normally so aloof, flashes them a troubled look.
Nazirah tries to ignore them completely, increasingly nervous. She’s sure Niko wants to observe combat training to figure out exactly what’s wrong with her. But Nazirah already knows what’s wrong with her. And, judging from the livid look on Grum’s face, Niko’s good intentions will backfire spectacularly.
“What are they doing here?” whispers Cato.
Nazirah shrugs her shoulders. She has no idea what excuse Nikolaus has given Grum, Aldrik, or Adamek. She doesn’t think Niko would tell them the truth … that he’s worried his baby sister is losing her mind.
“What are you all looking at?” Grum snarls, glancing around the room. “Get into formation!”
The class shuffles, hastily forming their normal semicircle. Adamek, Nikolaus, and Aldrik do not stand with them, but rather lean against a nearby cement wall.
“Commander Nation, Morgen, and Slome have asked to observe our class today,” Grum begins lecturing. “I initially protested, because many of us,” Grum shoots Nazirah a pointed look, “are not yet where we need to be. However, the Commander insists. He wants to track your progress so that we can target and strengthen your weaknesses.”
Grum clearly doesn’t like Nikolaus questioning his methods or jurisdiction, and doesn’t believe his reasons. Cato squeezes Nazirah’s hand reassuringly, probably thinking the exact same thing.
Nazirah suppresses a small smile, glances at Adamek. She hasn’t seen him since Saturday night. Nazirah hopes that her newfound fighting ability holds, especially with her impromptu, deranged teacher watching her every move.
“Elder Grigori, Mays, you’re up first.”
Grum checks two names off his clipboard. Lumi and Ansel tense, walk into the center of the circle, and begin fighting. Lumi seems unusually distracted. Nazirah cringes as Ansel kicks Lumi hard in the shin, sending her sprawling to the ground. Lumi concedes, which Grum unusually accepts, and the fight is over.
It goes on like this for over an hour. Grum names two recruits, they fight, and then the process starts over again. It’s brutal to watch. It’s even worse to wait in nervous anticipation. Nazirah absentmindedly watches Cato battle Anzares. He intercepts her blows skillfully but doesn’t harm her.
Nazirah surveys the room, realizing that she’s the only one who hasn’t fought yet. Would Grum make someone fight twice? Or would she maybe not have to fight at all … Grum’s personal way of sticking it to Niko?
Cato holds Anzares in a firm bind on the floor, until finally she concedes and pushes him off her. He returns to his spot be
side Nazirah.
“Nice job, Caal,” Grum says to him. “The Medis will appreciate your tenderness.” Aldrik snorts and Cato looks perplexed. Grum returns to his list, lazily running a finger down the column of names. “Let’s see here, who do we have next? Ah, here we go. Nation, step forward.”
Nazirah walks slowly to the middle of the room, looking around skeptically. Is Grum going to make her fight herself or something? That’s definitely the type of twisted scheme he would pull. Nazirah looks at Nikolaus for reassurance, but he is focused on Grum. He looks angry, like he knows something is off.
“Professor?”
“Yes, Nation?” asks Grum, setting down his clipboard.
“We have an odd numbers of students today.”
“Your powers of observation are astounding.”
“I don’t have a partner.”
“Thrilled as I am to see you taking an interest in your training,” Grum says, cracking his knuckles, “you are, as usual, wrong.”
“Who am I fighting?” Nazirah asks.
“Me.”
The entire class gasps. Nazirah is supposed to fight Grum? She glances over at Niko, whose fists are clenched. Adamek looks unsurprised. Aldrik appears positively appalled.
“Professor!” Cato speaks up immediately, completely distraught. “I volunteer to fight Nazirah!”
“That’s very sweet, Caal,” Grum says, walking slowly towards Nazirah. “But I don’t think she will benefit from having her hair stroked to death. And besides, you’ve already fought once today. We can’t have any favoritism here, can we?” Grum looks pointedly at Nikolaus.
Panic rises in Nazirah’s chest. Grum is clearly mad that Niko has shown up unannounced in his classroom, questioning his authority, and that Nazirah has defied him for weeks. Now, he intends to teach both Nations a lesson. Nazirah glances again at Niko, but she knows his hands are tied. Grum has set their fight up to seem coincidental. And if Nikolaus tries to intervene, it will look like he’s favoring his sister. Nazirah watches Aldrik storm from the room. Her eyes settle on Adamek, who gives her a small, imperceptible nod.
Nazirah watches as Grum gets into a fighter’s stance. But her thoughts remain on Adamek. He told her the first rule is to always know your enemy. And Nazirah does know Grum. She knows he’s big and threatening, but that makes him slow and cocky. She knows he has a huge ego, is not particularly intelligent, and would never imagine he could be outsmarted by a little girl. Nazirah knows he thinks she’s scared of him, is scared of fighting, and that she couldn’t possibly defend herself.
Nazirah knows Grum.
But Grum doesn’t know her.
Nazirah stands in her normal passive position, waiting for him to attack. No, Grum doesn’t know her at all.
His fist flies at Nazirah’s face, fast, but not fast enough. She dodges it easily. That alone shocks the entire classroom, since Nazirah has never defended herself before.
Enraged and embarrassed, Grum pounces. He fakes with his left and then jabs her with his right. Nazirah isn’t quick enough this time. She tries to block, but Grum’s second blow hits her square in the face. Her lip splits open. Nazirah tastes iron, but refuses to concede. This isn’t about standing up to Grum. This is about standing up to herself … for herself. This is about proving she can still be the person she once was.
Grum punches her again, this time in the stomach. Nazirah keels over, coughing up blood. She vaguely sees Nikolaus stepping forward from the wall on her left. Adamek holds onto his shoulder, stopping him. Nazirah stomps into Grum’s instep. He shouts out in pain and Nazirah throws his clipboard at him. She knows it will have no effect, but she needs to buy time. The class watches them silently in horror. Grum catches the clipboard easily, cracking it in half over his knee. He flings it carelessly to the side. A few recruits jump out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the pieces.
Think.
Nazirah glances at Cato, who appears ready to cry. She remembers a time several years ago, when a bully cornered her in a back alley back home. Nazirah remembers watching as he slowly unzipped his jeans, leering at her. Nazirah dealt with him. She looks into Grum’s face, suddenly calm. She can’t physically overpower him, but that doesn’t mean she won’t win.
Nazirah takes a small step backward, away from her classmates and toward the open space behind her. She tries to look frightened, ignoring both the screaming agony of her abdomen and the blood streaming from her lip. Grum lumbers forward, attempting to close in on her. Nazirah backs up again, more quickly, makes sure Grum is following her. Taking her one chance, Nazirah turns and runs full speed straight at the empty wall. Grum’s heavy footsteps are right behind her. Nazirah jumps as high as she can and launches herself at the wall, kicking and propelling off it. She turns in midair and slams her foot hard into Grum’s head. He falls to the floor, completely unsuspecting, knocked unconscious.
Everyone in the room stares at the two of them, mouths slack, eyes bulging. “The first rule, professor,” Nazirah deadpans, spitting blood, “is to always know your enemy.”
It’s not Grum she is looking at.
Her classmates circle her, breaking out of their spell. They cheer, hugging her and patting her on the back. Even Aneira congratulates her brightly. Cato is the first one by her side, rushing over to hold her up. “It’s good to see you again, Nazi,” he laughs.
The endorphins that kept the pain at bay during the fight are quickly dying. But Nazirah feels amazing. A part of herself that she hasn’t seen in months has resurfaced. And she welcomes it back like a long lost friend … like a blessing.
Aldrik, who apparently went to get help as a precautionary measure for Nazirah, returns with Bilungi at his heels. He enters the gymnasium then halts in his tracks, staring uncomprehending at the unconscious fighting instructor.
Bilungi nearly trips over him. She shoots him a dirty look and rushes over to assist Grum. “Mr. Caal, please take Miss Nation to my quarters.” Bilungi waves some smelling salts under Grum’s nose. “I believe you are familiar with the way.”
Cato nods, helping Nazirah slowly out of the room. Nikolaus walks over to them and gently touches her shoulder, relief clear on his face. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear.
“He deserved it,” she replies.
Nazirah looks around, searching for the reaction that she really wants to see. She spots him, exactly where he has been all along, leaning casually against the classroom wall.
He’s looking at her, too.
And he’s smiling, genuinely smiling.
Chapter Eight
Summer transitions into autumn without any noticeable temperature change. The days pass by uneventfully. Nazirah attends the majority of her classes, throwing herself into work to distract from reality. She even willingly participates in combat training, doing the bare minimum to placate an even more wretched Grum, who hasn’t acknowledged her presence since getting knocked unconscious. She rarely sees any of the rebel leaders. They are usually on recon missions or in private meetings all day. If Nazirah closes her eyes and doesn’t think about it too much, life seems unnervingly peaceful.
Nazirah lies on her stomach, on the worn rug of the library. Her bare feet wave casually in the air, shoes kicked off hours ago. Her ball of hair is knotted in a loose bun, piled high on her head and secured by two pencils. Her face is bent low, buried in a thick textbook. Books, maps, and various other articles are strewn around her in a protective circle. Almost done with all of her makeup work, Nazirah is currently finishing an essay Bairs assigned her on Medi life and culture. Nazirah doesn’t really want to learn about the luxurious Median lifestyle, but she has to admit that the subject is riveting.
The library is quiet, nearly empty. It often goes unused, since most intermix cannot read and most rebels cannot be bothered. Riva taught her children the alphabet at a young age, and Nazirah always loved engrossing herself in fantastical stories. Intermix are not allowed to use the public libraries in Rafu, but Nazirah would often sne
ak into the main school from the annex. She would read on the floor of the school library after everyone else left, until Riva would find her and scold her and drag her home.
Nazirah imagined she was a princess in the cold north of Zima, or a bootlegger from a faraway land, or even a bird soaring over Renatus. She imagined she was anything other than what she actually was. Reading was her escape. It still is. With Nikolaus always gone, training intensifying, and unrest erupting around the country, Nazirah knows that her hourglass of safety is running out.
Nazirah finishes reading about hilarious Medi fashion trends throughout the decades. She starts on the bullet train system, which carries goods from the outskirts of the territories to the capital at rapid speed. Nazirah looks out the large window beside her and spots Taj and a few others kicking a ball around outside. She wants to go watch, but wills herself to finish working first.
Nazirah casually flips through some photographs of Mediah, completely mesmerized by the sheer size of its gleaming skytowers, its power, and its technology. She wonders what Niko’s grand plan is to overcome these obstacles and she prays it is a good one.
“So she’s literate.”
Adamek slumps down in a chair before her. He drops a pile of strategy books on the table to his right and rests his hands casually behind his head.
“Yes, she is,” Nazirah huffs.
He glances at the books scattered around the floor. “I know this is probably a foreign concept to you, Nation, but we have these things called tables and chairs for a reason.”
“I know what a chair is,” Nazirah snaps, sitting up. “I just exercise my right, as an intermix, not to use one.”
“I see.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Nazirah asks, annoyed. Someone shushes her. Nazirah turns to see Aneira glaring at them, several tables away. Nazirah rolls her eyes. She returns her attention to Adamek, speaking more quietly. “I would think a place like this was beneath you.”
“And why is that?”
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