He rolls his eyes. “Indulge me for a moment,” he replies, sliding from the driver’s side.
Annoyed, I follow him out into the heat, my sundress sticking to my sweaty knees. The air holds the wet warmth that precedes an afternoon rain, and the Landorian guards quickly make way for the papers Havis offers them. Two more aeroplanes patrol overhead. I shade my eyes to watch their rounded green wings and breathe in the smoky scent.
Like this, they’re still beautiful. Peaceful and bright in the light.
“May I be of assistance?” a voice asks, refined in its Landori accent.
I peel my gaze from the sky and find a pilot with dark hair and blue eyes approaching. “No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, since I have no clue what valuable thing I’m supposed to be searching for. I hope it’s more evidence to take before the League.
When I turn to Havis for help, he’s busy showing off his fancy automobile to a gaggle of pilots, Safire and Landorian alike.
“Captain Merlant,” the pilot offers with a gracious smile, though it’s a bit hesitant. Certainly he senses the awkwardness of this exchange. A young Resyan lady and a conquering officer—an officer from the kingdom which should have been on Resya’s side in this business.
I scramble for an answer. “I’m Ali, the … future Lady Havis.” I want him to know I’m nobility—even though I look half-rustic, my long hair loose and thick with humidity—but certainly not a Northern princess. Explanations feel like a waste of breath right now.
Merlant keeps discreetly glancing at my leather boots. I know they look nearly comical with my sundress. “Forgive the intrusion, Captain,” I try. “We’re here to—”
I stop.
My thoughts disappear.
“Yes?” he presses politely.
There, across the tarmac, standing by an aeroplane, is Athan Erelis. I’m sure it must be a dream. A thing that isn’t real, another stretched mirage from my helpless sleep, but the sun is hot on my neck, and the air is damp in my mouth. I can smell kerosene. Petrol. I’m not floating, I’m here, and then he sees me.
His expression is stunned.
“Forgive me,” Merlant says. “We haven’t had many local guests yet and I—” He turns to see who I’m looking at. “Oh.”
I brush past him, caught on a river, rushing for shore, everything inside me demanding to be known and recognized. Hope, relief, terror. It’s too wonderful and too terrible at once, so many weights hanging on this one moment, threatening to push it one way or another. Athan walks over in the same trance. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, uniform pants rumpled and dusty. Leather boots like mine. Near enough, now, I can see the thinness to his beautiful face, the uneven shadows.
He’s more bewildered than me.
“Ali,” he says, voice hoarse. “You’re here.”
The frightened sound of my name on his lips, alive, is like someone being roused from the dead. He was dead to me. I tried to imagine it, to practice the feeling of a world without him. But he’s not dead. He’s a foot from me now, saying my name, an oil splotch marring his cheek, his nose bruised. An echo of the summer.
I want to laugh in wild relief.
I want to cry.
I can only stare. “I came with the Ambassador,” I say, longing to throw my arms right round him, never let go. “I wanted to tour Resya, to see my mother’s homeland. And then … I got rather stuck.”
Now, he looks nearly terrified. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, not here,” I lie, wanting to take his fear away. “I wasn’t in the capital. I was in the south, where it was quiet.” I wave at Havis, who’s speaking with Merlant, keeping an eye on us. “And now, I’m waiting for the negotiations to begin, for Rahian’s trial.”
Athan says nothing.
His chest moves with a slow breath that’s so very alive and yet so very distant.
I can’t read him.
He’s a familiar stranger, far across the ravine of war, my boy of the sky, and I try a grin, gesturing at his nose. “Did you run into a prince somewhere?”
It takes a moment, but finally the frail edge of a smile grazes his lips. I reach up, gently tracing the oil from his cheek, and I’m surprised by how deeply my skin has richened in the Resyan sun, next to his hue of pale gold.
He touches my hand, a touch that I feel all the way to my belly. “I am happy to see you,” he says softly, seeming to sense my desire for this moment to be something more than it is. “I’m just scared for you,” he admits, his voice as thin as his face.
I smile, desperate for him to return it. “I’m perfectly fine, Lieutenant. I promise. It’s over now. Instead of worrying, why don’t you run away with me? Havis has an estate outside the city. It’s an escape, and you can come.”
I see now exactly the bribe Havis wants to give me—and I intend to take it.
The gift of Athan Erelis is one I’ll never refuse.
“Go with you?” Athan repeats, looking over my shoulder, certainly at Havis.
“Can’t you take leave?”
There’s another moment of silence between us, and apparently I’m now playing the role of Havis. Convincing Athan to escape when he’s clearly still drowning in the reality of this horror. What a strange world this is.
But I’m determined to be something good for him. To give him something better.
“I do,” Athan finally says, rubbing at his head.
“Do?”
His grey eyes find mine. “I mean, I do have leave. We all do, but no one takes more than a few hours of it. It’s better to stay close to base.”
I nod then, understanding. He isn’t a boy here, but rather a Safire badge that holds too much bitterness still. I can wander these streets. He can’t. He’s in a place that despises him—a place that doesn’t want to know him beyond this dirty uniform.
But I want him. And I’ll take him away from these barbed-wire fences and memories of war.
I hold out my hand. “Please, come.”
He hesitates, eyes darting to all of the curious faces surrounding us, and I realize he can’t touch me. Not until he’s begged for permission and packed his bags and shed this other identity, this one I’ve never known. Not like this, on a runway in the middle of a settling battlefield.
“I’ll meet you at the motorcar?” I ask, unable to hide the hurt in my question.
He nods. “I’ll request my pass.”
Recognizing he won’t give me anything else, not here, I turn and head back for Havis. I feel confused and happy and alone all at once. I’ve made it only a few steps when his fervent voice carries on the breeze.
“I’m glad to see you, Ali!”
The words are urgent, honest, and sorrow and hope fight for space in my chest. I’m already scared of what’s happened. What will happen next. And yet, the sound of my name on his lips, a voice brought back to life from the grave … My heart picks up a rhythm that feels like a race. My skin is flushed, my hands tremble, and I face him again, grinning right as the first drops fall from the sky. The warm afternoon rain of Madelan, mixing with sun. Making the tarmac shimmer all round us.
His tired face is resplendent with desire, and he smiles back.
Hope wins.
35
ATHAN
I’m in a daze as I request an evening off base, telling Garrick it’s going to be all three of us—me, Cyar, Trigg—venturing to the infamous bar with rooms by the hour. Everyone else has tried it out already. He nods, half-distracted, as I concoct my story, but he also looks a bit relieved to see us doing something other than sitting around being virtuous angels.
I also suspect he’s seen me wandering in circles late at night.
“Twenty-four hours, Lieutenant,” he says, writing the pass. “Don’t stay out after dark.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And be safe.”
“I’ve got my gun.”
Garrick gives me a look like I’m twelve. He tosses something at me, and I fi
nd myself holding a bit of army-issued prophylactic. “Right,” I say, as if I knew he meant that all along.
“Someone has to watch out for you. And it isn’t going to be your brother.”
I’m not sure if I should feel grateful for the intervention, but at least I can get the hell out of here, free of suspicion. In our barracks, I pack a bag, throwing all of Katalin’s half-legible letters into the trash. I don’t even know why I kept them. Stupid. Then I try to pull myself together, looking in the tilted mirror. I’m a mess. I need a haircut, need to be wearing something other than a sweaty uniform that’s been washed in a bucket for weeks.
I need another name.
Another life.
But I’m not going to get either of those things in the next ten minutes, so I take this unexpected dream and run with it. She’s here. It’s entirely illogical, and part of me is still panicking at the realization. The thought of her anywhere near a frontline, anywhere near the opposite side of a gun—our guns. My gun. I’m sick with a worry that shouldn’t exist. She’s safe and it’s over. But the thought of it …
“This is a bad idea,” Cyar says from his bunk, watching me.
“Just do it, all right?” I tell him. “Say we rented a room somewhere and got drunk and forgot to come back.”
“How many days can we buy with that lie?”
“Two would be enough.”
“In Madelan?”
I turn to face him, shouldering my bag. He’s still mad at me for the other night, and I’m still nurturing this idea of learning to resent him. At least a bit. It’s good for both of us. “You know this is the only thing I want. Be a friend, all right?”
I don’t wait for the answer. I’m already out the door, not wanting to give him a chance to speak his reasonable thoughts that don’t know the truth. Ali isn’t dangerous. She’s the opposite of that—she’ll give me life.
I jog for the waiting motorcar, and Havis gives me his subtly appraising look that says, “I’ve just brought you a gift, now what will you give me?”
I’ll worry about being in his debt later.
For now, I have Ali brushing against me on this seat, a girl of soft skirts and softer skin. She glows in the sun, her dark eyes bright. Her hand creeps onto mine, holding—a rope, a connection—and I don’t want her to ever let go. I’m on the earth and she’s my gravity, holding me in place while my thoughts sprint ten steps ahead.
Havis’s estate.
What the hell am I doing?
The drive is a wonderful blur because I’m mostly looking at her. She has a dozen stories to share, which means I get to stay quiet and just listen. By the time we pass through the gates into an elaborate complex of gardens, rolling pastures, I’ve heard all about the horses and the motorbikes. When we step out of the vehicle, it’s perfectly quiet—just birds, sun, wind. Everything wet and glistening from leftover rain.
It’s wonderful.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Ali asks me as Havis gives orders to his attendants. “This must be much better than wherever your fellow pilots were going for their leave.”
I give her a wry smile. “With our wage? Definitely.”
Her humour fades. “That’s not what I meant.”
I shrug, since there’s no way to really explain how the money I made these past two months for killing other human beings will maybe equal the cost of her latest palace banquet. I want to laugh, to be funnier. But I’m standing in the middle of this fancy estate wearing last week’s undershirt and a bruising wound on my lower back from when Arrin dropped me onto the desk. Underneath, I’m all filth of war. A person who slaughtered men trying to surrender—and enjoyed it.
The realization that soon enough she’ll begin to sense the ugly emptiness inside me, and the guilty name I bear, makes me sweat with impatience. There’s a ticking clock on these pleasantries, these initial moments of glorious reunion. I’m dreading it. The moment she sees me as I am now.
Athan Dakar.
Wounded and filthy and deadly.
Inside the large home of shiny floors and cream walls, Havis allows us to tour on our own, wisely retreating—or else just hoping I’ll take the hint and say the things I should.
I’m clearly not as noble as he expects.
Ali leads me along, showing off the terraces and helping herself to the cats that sprawl leisurely in sunny spots. A pond is filled with colourful fish flitting through the water, some big and fat, hardly moving, and she dips a finger so they follow it, hoping for food. An orange cat hops up onto the ledge beside her. Ears perked, it tracks Ali’s movements, fixated on the fish. The fish don’t notice. Trapped, moving forever in tiny circles in the tiny pond. Easy to capture. Easy for a cat’s paw. Waiting to be ripped apart like scraps, plucked from the air and—
“Athan?”
I realize Ali’s looking at me, kneeling against the ledge. Her face is delicate concern.
“What?” I ask, hoping to God she wasn’t talking and I missed it all.
She stares a moment, then says, “You look tired.”
I’m exhausted, I want to say, resisting the urge to rub at my damn head. But then she’ll tell me to go to sleep, and I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to be with her. I want to be in this moment, entirely alive and electric and full. She looks older now, a new weight to her buoyant energy, and it’s beautiful—sunlight made firm, something I can hold in my arms.
I want to hold her.
But I don’t know how to ask for that, or offer it, since I can hardly construct a proper sentence right now. She simply takes my hand with a sad smile and leads me back inside.
We find a lunch prepared for us, the table set. Havis surprises us both when he says, “I’m off, then. A third person isn’t necessary here.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say, not wanting to seem too desperate. Too in his debt.
“No, no,” he replies warmly. “You have two days? I’ll leave you both to it. I’m sure you have much to discuss.”
“We do,” Ali agrees, clearly happy to have him disappear.
“Don’t leave anything untouched, Lieutenant. War, aeroplanes, family history…”
“Suggestion noted, Ambassador.”
“I’m simply trying to help,” he replies, bumping my shoulder as he turns to leave.
I still can’t stand him. But he’s right. She does need the truth, and I won’t let the moment slip from me, not this time. Clearly she didn’t get my letters. Probably sitting back in Etania, unopened. I’ll do it, but first I need her to remember why she likes me. This precious thing between us feels thinner than last summer. Not because it isn’t still there—I’m convinced it is—but distance and time have a way of bringing up nerves and strangeness again, like we’re back at the beginning. We need time to restore our friendship. To feel honest again.
As we sip lemonade, she recounts the previous weeks—the city in turmoil, the men on horses, the bombs. The palace was burst open and then she herself offered the surrender to the Commander of the Safire forces.
Goddamn it.
“You said you were in the south,” I remind her, unable to hide my accusation.
“Oh.” She blinks, caught by her own fabricated story.
I’m horrified by all of these things I didn’t know, beginning to fever as I listen, and I set to work picking the bones out of the half-eaten carp in front of me. It feels calming somehow. One, two, three, four. It takes a few tries, but they’re in a precisely neat square when I sense, more than see, Ali’s frustration.
“You’re upset with me?” she asks pointedly.
“You put yourself in danger,” I reply, nudging the last bone into a better place.
She’s still staring, and I think I’ve made the first wrong move. “I had to do my part,” she informs me. “You were in danger every day, for the same reason. Surely you understand that?”
No. I don’t understand. I care about her. Doesn’t she hear herself talking? Offering the damn surrender. To Arrin! Now she’s convin
ced she can put herself into the negotiations, help Rahian out, but it will only make it worse. This whole thing is far from over. In fact, it might only be beginning, thanks to Seath. And I just want Ali and me to be the same as we were, last summer, before all of this, but I don’t know how to get there.
She crosses her arms. “We’ve talked a lot about me. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
The innocent question holds a challenge.
She knows it.
“Not much,” I reply, scattering the bones with a finger, destroying perfection. “Just a lot of … flying. But I want to hear more about Jali and Callia. They really walked here from Masrah?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking round my questions. I know you’re good at that, but I really thought we’d have moved past it, especially by now.”
Her veiled annoyance stings my frustration. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Ali.”
“Everything.”
“You don’t.”
“I do. Damn it, I do!”
Her self-righteous fury is insulting. I glare at her down the table. She’s trying to get closer; she senses the same distance I do, but it’s all the wrong way. “You want to know about me? About what I’ve done? Fine. The truth is I haven’t done a damn thing I’m proud of. There’s your answer. They’re all things I want to forget—or do I need to confess them each to you one by one by one?”
Bones, one by one by one.
We glower at each other, birds squawking outside the window. Her face is granite, so focused on me she might shatter my resolve with those perfect, dark eyes. “You stayed alive,” she says finally, “and that’s all I’ve asked of you. All I’ll ever ask of you.”
I’m sure she means it as reassurance, but the anger in me gives way to utter exhaustion again. There’s nothing about that I want to hear. I’ve honoured her request—but still ended up worse.
“Staying alive is the easy part,” I say quietly. “You need to expect more of me than that.”
Those words break the spell.
Her resolute expression fades to sorrow, and she stands, coming to my side. She kneels down, her hand taking mine again, so very soft. “All right,” she says. “Stay alive. Always stay alive. But you also have to find me on the other end of it, wherever you are. You always have to come for me. Do you promise?”
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