by F. F. John
“I never told them to live in the Lesser Lands,” she says coolly, studying something on her screen.
Not willing to give up, I press on. “Those were the only places available, Neith. Those of us in the Twenty and the Lower Houses own all the arable land and clean water sources. They didn’t have a choice.”
“Okay, I get your point.” She flips to her side and looks at me. “They’re poor.”
My heart soars as she finally sees reason. While the rebels have failed to fine-tune their message, I believe the onus is on us, the nomes, to make sense of it all, or we’ll suffer the consequences. More of us need to understand why the rebels have come into existence in the first place and we only need look to history to figure that out.
“However, these people”—Neith forms air quotes and I snap back into our conversation—“have made a point of being lazy and that’s why they’re poor. The ones that want to work get hired. Father alone hires millions across the planet. Those are people who want to work. They’re disciplined and make good lives for themselves and their families. Why can’t these rebels and their supporters do the same?”
I start to deflate long before she’s done speaking. So much for thinking she’d understand. I look out the window and sigh. Fat rain drops splatter as the sky releases its contents. This conversation is going to be long and meaningless at this rate.
She returns to her desk and taps on the screen, making it descend. “And since when did you become a rebel sympathizer?”
My blood freezes. “Come on, this has nothing to do with being a sympathizer. We have to figure what’s happening before things get out of control.”
“I disagree. If those rejects want to burn everything down, then we’ll burn them down first.” With an arm over the back of the chair, she swings her head to look at me. “You should get out of those clothes and get some rest. I’m going to go speak to the chef about tonight’s dinner.”
As much as I want to convince Neith that there’s more to the rebels than she thinks, I’m happy for the change in topic. “Tonight’s dinner?”
“With all the madness and the deaths, I want to have a quiet evening with the participants.” She strides over to her closet and soon reappears with a flower-patterned dress in hand. “I figured I might as well speak to the chef as early as possible, so I’ll talk to him before breakfast and handle any other arrangements.” She lays the dress on the bed.
She falters in front of the bathroom with a groan. “Father will be in a terrible mood, given the latest developments. He must surely be regretting this Pursual of mine.”
“Do you regret it?”
The muscles in her face tighten. “Things haven’t gone as smoothly as I would have liked.” Her words falter and her visage fills with regret. It doesn’t last long as she soon puts on a beguiling smile. “How about you join us this morning? You always make him smile.”
“Nope, not today,” I say flatly. After our conversation and the accusation of being a sympathizer, spending my morning at an awkward breakfast with Uncle Nabo and herself is far from enticing. “Like you said, I need to get out of these clothes and get some rest.” I jump off the bed and race to the bathroom. “And, I’m using the tub! You get the shower!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Neith
The evening is off to a good start. All the participants are comfortably seated and engaged in conversation when Bel and I arrive. Even Portan seems relaxed with a drink in hand, conversing with Seth and Invier. That’s a feat given the hectic last twenty-four hours he’s had. In that time, he’s had to retrieve Erhart’s remains from Ghitu and coordinating delivery to his loved ones.
Today, he’s in silver from head to toe. Literally. His hair is tied in a silver ponytail that matches his sparkling silver shirt and pants. Although I don’t see it, I’m certain his favorite accessory—a color-matching walking stick—is close by and completes his ensemble.
The dining room is exactly as I wanted. Earlier in the day, I’d informed my House Manager to replace my twelve-person rectangular table with three circular ones. Set in a triangle, they should allow us all to talk to each other while keeping certain factions separated.
“Good evening, everyone,” I say. “My apologies for being late. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Your presence has been missed, Scioness.” Seth rises to his feet. “As well as that of your lady-in-waiting.” He nods to Bel who rewards him with a half-smile.
James also stands. “You have brought beauty to this gathering.” His smile is surely fueled by the fizzy, golden liquid in his glass.
It’s hard to look at him and not see the pervert I’ve heard he can be. Still, I must be graceful and so I curtsy, saying, “You are too kind Scion Saint Esprit. Thank you for the compliment. And, thank you Scion Talum, for so warm a welcome.”
Portan leads us to our seats.
“While I don’t want to bring a bleak note to what is supposed to be a nice evening, I must mention the two friends we lost.” I scan the room and notice a scowl from Mehrdad. James lowers his head, a bleak expression on his face while Ika gives me a knowing glare. I wonder if he’s told Mehrdad or James about our conversation.
At the other table, Adela is impassive while Invier and Seth watch on bleakly.
“If none of you mind, can we have a moment of silence for Scions Carre and Vesta?”
After what I measure to be sixty-seconds, I reach for my empty glass and raise it high. “To Scion Carre and Scion Vesta, may they be forever remembered.”
Adela says, “Hear, hear!” So do Bel and Portan. No one else speaks a word. That isn’t the effect I was going for.
Seth comes to my rescue, saying, “Don’t mind us, Scioness.” He gives me a warm smile. “Our adventures from last night have left many of us bent out of shape. I’m sure an evening in your presence will cure us of our troubles.”
I dip my head his way and when I straighten, Ika is rolling his eyes as he sips from his frosty glass.
The dining room’s wooden doors part for waiters, each carrying a solitary plate. They place their wares before every seated person and with that, dinner commences. The chimes of conversation pick up again.
After a while, I drop my fork. “I’m going to talk to them.”
“Want me to come with you?” Bel rises.
“No, that’s okay, enjoy your meal.” I move over to Invier’s table. His eyes light at my approach. One glimpse at his bottom lip and I’m thinking of our sizzling kiss from this morning. Seth, talking to Adela, realizes I’m nearby and lunges to his feet. “Scioness, please have my seat,” he says, pulling out his chair.
I have a small meaningless conversation with all three of them. Adela says the least, choosing to observe me over the lip of her glass. I avoid speaking to Invier completely but his leg grazes mine underneath the table, sending tingles down my spine. He wears a devilish grin that I struggle to avoid.
The conversation turns to Seth and I say, “So sorry about your mom.” I look at him, ensuring I don’t stare into Invier’s amber eyes or daydream about his lips.
“Yes, things aren’t going well at the moment, but she wanted me to be here and I told her I’d do my best.” There’s a hint of sorrow in his tone. “It’s a promise I will keep, no matter what.”
Adela and Invier raise their glasses to him. I resort to placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You are so brave. Your mother must be proud of you.” He gives us all a grateful smile.
The atmosphere lightens when the conversation switches to a recently completed playoff match between Adela’s favorite venture ball team and Seth’s. I am yet to watch a single venture ball match though Father and Bel are big fans. The sport has always been too complicated for me.
“I don’t understand venture ball,” I say to chuckling. “Tell me, how am I supposed to know when the player should be on the ground or when he’s supposed to be in the air?”
“It’s quite simple …” Seth explains the rules of the gam
e but each word bleeds into the other and I tune out. Soon, the discussion between Adela and Invier becomes raucous, with even Invier teasing his table mates for their undying love of their teams. He even goes as far as telling them he thinks neither is as good as the Afton team, which failed to make the playoffs.
All this talk about sports is my excuse to wander to the next table.
None of the boys at this table offer a seat. Luckily, Bel arrives with a waiter carrying two chairs. The waiter disappears only to return with two glasses of pomrose.
“So, boys, how are you?” I ask the table as cheerfully as possible.
“Doing well, Scioness Reffour,” Mehrdad says in a bored monotone.
“Yes, everyone is well.” James’s words come out slurred as he scoops a spoonful of his soup.
Eyes on me, Ika quietly guzzles his drink.
“That’s good.” I sip my juice, hoping the sugar will get my energy up and help me get through what is panning out to be a painful experience with these three. “How was your day off?”
Ika’s glass lands on the table forcefully, clicking on some silverware in the process. They clank loudly, bringing a hush to the entire room. “I spent the day being productive, Scioness. Care to tell us what you did today?” His question is buried in mischief.
If this stunt is an attempt to remind me of his threat, I won’t be easily rattled. I take another sip of my drink and stare right back at him. Mehrdad regards us with a raised brow. James, cheeks flushed, frees the first button of his shirt, more affected by his alcohol intake than the table talk.
“Well, isn’t it obvious what the scioness was busy with today?” Bel asks, coming to my rescue. “She spent her day making this happen.” She spreads her hands at the table then puts a hand on mine, her face becoming apologetic. “Sorry I couldn’t help out much.”
Going along with the farce, I say, “No, don’t worry about it. I understand things were busy for you today.”
“And on that note, I will take my leave. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”
James coughs and lifts it to me before taking another swig. Ika does the same, lifting his glass in my direction. His expression is menacing.
As Bel and I walk back to our table, arm in arm, she asks, “What was that about?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” I should have told her about my unhappy meeting with Ika. Knowing her, she would have made some recommendations on how to handle him. There’ll be time for all that later on.
We return to our table to finish eating and converse with Portan. Not too long after the last fork is gently placed on an empty dish, the waiters reappear with our next course. Desert is penny cakes layered with ganache for Bel. Light-green pistachio croquettes stuffed with caramel and topped with pistachio sprinkles and strawberries. Seth’s favorite. With a bright smile at me, he nods in appreciation. I wonder if he knows how hard it was to find those pistachios. I had to contact Titane Saint Esprit to source them being that they’re not in season. Despite the time crunch, she kindly found enough pistachios to please my chef as well as Seth.
Freshly-made coconut ice cream topped with finely shredded coconut strips have been a favorite of Invier’s since childhood. His dish also has sticks of dark chocolate wafers, which his mom says make him happy. Portan gets butterscotch macarons. He prefers to eat them on his birthday, but his eyes light when he sees them.
On my plate are three meringue treats - one chocolate, another vanilla and the last, hazelnut.
I failed in my attempts to learn what desserts Adela, Ika, and Mehrdad would prefer. Their nomes informed me that they don’t enjoy sweets. The chef designed a solution. Waiters place long plates that hold everything the other dinner guests received. The three of them can choose what to indulge in.
Instead of having his dessert, Ika glares my way. Ignoring him, I dive into my meringues and moan in delight. With each bite, the sweet confection dissolves on my tongue. Once done, I cleanse my palate with a chilled glass of water then rap my unused dessert spoon against it.
“Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen.” Clearing my throat, I consider everything I’m about to say. A thread of discomfort coils up my throat. There’s no going back from this moment.
“I hope we have all had a nice evening?” I smile and wait for heads to bob in agreement. “I wanted this to be a relaxing time where I would get to know you better.
“As you must all be aware, I have a pass that I can give to one of you.”
At the mention of the pass, the mood in the room changes and all the participants have a common inquisitive expression. Unlike most of the evening when Mehrdad was listless, he leans forward in his chair. James stares vacantly ahead at a wall. He might be captivated by the ever-changing three-dimensional paint which flickers from white to silver with even the subtlest of head movements.
“In the past, entry into a Pursual meant participants fought to the death,” I say. “However, each hostess could grant a pass to someone who they felt deserved a chance to walk away with honor. In many cases, a pass was given to the only child of a nome so that family wouldn’t lose its heir.”
Adela sits back in her seat, with an entertained expression on her face. Her head tips to the side as she watches me. Ika, on the other hand, takes in his reflection with a knife. He puts his forefinger to his tongue then smooths his eyebrows with the damp digit.
I heave a breath and steady my emotions before I continue. “After this enjoyable dinner with you all, I have decided to grant the pass to one of you.”
Seth’s spoon is dissecting a lone strawberry on his dessert plate. He would rather study it than the room or me.
As for Invier, his eyes slant as he watches me closely.
My mouth goes dry and I take a sip of water. Realizing I need something stronger, I grab Bel’s champagne flute to my left.
“The pass goes to Scion Seth Talum.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Invier
“Scion Talum? You’re giving the pass to Seth?” Ika’s voice cracks in anger in the silent room.
Seth mutters a small, “Oh.”
“Him?” This time, Ika speaks with heated but controlled derision, eyes focused on Neith. He’s on his feet, dragging the tablecloth in a fist. Plates, glasses, and silverware crash to the dining room floor.
I can’t believe Seth got the pass, particularly as I spoke to Neith about it only this morning and she said she wouldn’t give it to anyone but me. My hands quiver and I hide them under the table. She lied to me. Again. If anyone should be furious, it’s me.
“His stupid mother’s going to die anyway, so why give him the pass?”
“How dare you speak of my mother that way, you baka!” Seth charges toward Ika, but I jump in his path. He’s so irate that he makes me skid against his strength. Adela joins me and we eventually pin him to a wall
“Calm down!” Adela lets go of him.
“And you!” Ika hurls a water glass at Neith. Luckily, it hits the table and not her, disintegrating into hundreds of shards. Neith recoils, eyes wide, and her best friend places her body over hers as a shield.
“Stop it,” I say, but the room’s other chaotic sounds swallow my words.
Ika continues to rain obscenities on Neith. “You stupid bitch! You think you’re smart, don’t you? If your family wasn’t as powerful, nobody would care about you. I swear, you …”
Now, it’s my turn to let go of Seth. I speed toward Ika, who is still propelling dining ware at Neith. A fleeting glance shows her best friend remains in place, taking the brunt of some flung objects and the sharper ones are being neatly deflected by Portan with a silver walking stick. He must have leaped over the table to place himself in front of the girls.
Ika’s arm is mid-throw and I thrust a laughing Mehrdad out of my way. He flops ungraciously, like a struggling fish out of water. That opens the path for me to launch myself at Ika, knocking a dessert plate out of his hand. We crash to the ground, my body on him. He grun
ts right as I punch his jaw. My fist lands on his nose next as my anger soars free. It feels good. I punch him again and again and again, not caring where I hit.
Something crunches beneath the knuckles of my left hand but it’s a distant sound muted by my roaring rampage. Why did she give the pass away? We agreed she’d keep it for me to have if I need it.
My frustration with Neith, the Pursual, the rules that prevent me from being with who I want, the idiots I’ve dealt with these last few days and this recent betrayal at the hands of Neith. I unleash it all on Ika.
I think someone calls my name but I’m hypnotized by the red liquid flowing from Ika’s nose. The blood trickles unto the white floor, forming a pool by his ear. It’s gratifying to have him simpering beneath me. This will teach him to stop being such an asshole.