by F. F. John
I seethe. Aina would be scrap metal if it were up to me. Despite my repeated instructions to refer to my father as the “Titan” or simply “Father,” the term “daddy” is what she uses.
“Father asked me to stop by.”
Her synthetic lips curve into what is supposed to be a smile. “Let me see if he’s available.” Her lights dim then brighten.
My hands dampen. That always happens when I’m summoned to the office. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. Rubbing my hands on my yellow dress, I watch one of the secretaries as his fingers speed over his screen. He speaks into a mouthpiece which swallows his words.
“Your daddy will see you now.”
The black doors to the office yawn open and I leave Aina behind in the narthex.
I’m not Father’s only visitor, today. Hopefully, Portan’s presence is a good sign. He offers me a tiny smile, and I reciprocate in kind.
Standing at Father’s wide table, Portan’s hands are folded behind his back. I also stand waiting for the almighty Nabo Reffour to acknowledge my presence with fingers intertwined in front of me.
His head lowered, my father studies information flying across his table’s surface. It scrolls from left to right and he taps the table from time to time. His forehead wrinkles and his eyebrows sink lower on his face.
“How old are you?” Father’s words are gruff and toneless, when he finally speaks. His gaze never leaving the table.
Is this some sort of test? He knows exactly how old I am. He knows everything. Still, I respond to the rhetorical question, saying, “I turned 17 three months ago.”
I continue, “There was an evening party and you gifted me my own living quarters on the property. You remember that night don’t you?”
He ignores my query and swipes the table’s surface. It darkens.
Stern golden irises study me and it takes everything to not squirm under that gaze. I suddenly feel like a small child about to be chastised for some errant behavior. A broad nose, mustache and beard round out his familiar features. He rubs his left cheek, thinking about something and I remind myself to be stay still.
He gestures to sit, saying, “it’s time for you to be paired.”
Although it wasn’t a question, I know I’m expected to agree with his statement. “Yes, Father.” My mind races. It’s time for my pairing?
He’s still searching my features and I will myself to deprive him of a physical reaction. That means I can’t even enjoy the feeling of elation that is sprouting in my chest.
Most girls my age aren’t interested in a pairing, but I am. I’ve waited for years for this moment and now that Invier has told me how he feels, I know this is my chance for a future with him.
To that end, I’d spent the last three months researching history books to find a solution to my problem. Since his nome is eighteen spots below mine in the rankings, I know that I have to be creative in getting us to be paired together. During the time spent, I came across the concept of Pursuals. They’d been mentioned in history class during grade school, but we never focused on them. No longer practiced, these allowed scions from less-wealthy families to compete for the hand of a wealthier scioness. The only problem is that they required participants to fight to the death, something I don’t want.
“Good. Portan will set it up over the next three to four months.” Father says.
And with that, he taps his table. Information bloom to life and he grimaces at something. I’ve been dismissed.
Typical. He keeps me waiting and then dismisses me without giving me an opportunity to share my thoughts on anything. He doesn’t even bother to give a respectful goodbye.
Today, I’m going to do something different. I must mention a Pursual. If not, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Those rebels just hit one of Nome Zephole’s facilities,” he huffs.
Open your mouth, Neith.
My mouth does as commanded but no sound comes out. My palms are drenched.
“The Council keeps pussyfooting around and eventually it’ll be too late to make a difference.”
He swipes at the table again, and his frown deepens.
Now, Neith.
“Father?”
He drags his nails along his beard. “We don’t even know what they are doing this for. They don’t even have a name.”
“Father?” My voice is a little stronger this time.
Portan peers at me, willing me to speak louder with a tiny smile. I know I should. And I would with anyone else, but Father isn’t anyone else.
“If they dare interfere with any of my business interests -”
A cough from Portan prompts him to look up.
“Titan,” Portan begins, his tone sure and confident. “I believe your daughter has something to say to you.”
Father’s head angles in my direction and my mouth dries.
To Portan, he asks, “Is there something wrong with her? She’s not speaking”
“I believe she is preparing to tell you something.” Portan replies.
“Ah, okay.” Father returns to his screen.
What will Father think of my suggestion? Words sit on the tip of my tongue, too scared to come out of hiding. He may find it ludicrous. Yet, he always preaches that only the brave rule the world. I need to find that courage and seize the day.
“We don’t have all day, Neith,” Father starts. “I have a lot of things to do. And, I keep telling you, if you don’t speak for yourself, someone else will and you may not like what they say.”
I swallow and say, “A Pursual?” The two words tumble from my lips in the form of an unintended question.
His eyes tear away from the screen and his bushy brows furrow. Is that curiosity I see? I feel Portan’s eyes on me.
“Did I hear her right?” Father asks, his chin in his hand. The question is for Portan, but his eyes stay on me. “Did she just say a Pursual?” He now turns to face my nome’s Master, instead of me, his daughter and only child. The person who just spoke to him.
The skin prickles at my neck. I absolutely detest when Father acts like I’m invisible and irrelevant. “You don’t need to ask him for clarification, I’m right here to answer any questions you have.” The force of my words shock me.
They surprise Father as well because he blinks twice and sits back in his chair. Through the corner of my eyes, I see Portan’s mouth fall open.
Oh my, I’m in trouble now. Father doesn’t like to be told what to do. A tongue lashing must be forthcoming at any moment from now.
It never comes. He leans his head to the side and smiles slightly. “So, you want a Pursual, but aren’t those banned by the Pact?”
Mentally, I sigh in relief that I avoided an onslaught of criticism and power on. “No, they weren’t banned, Father. They just fell out of favor with the Twenty.”
“Why?”
It’s not what I was expecting and so I repeat the word, “Why?”
“Yes, why did Pursuals fall out of favor?”
I thank the stars for the time spent studying ancient nome culture and customs. Father’s question is one I can easily answer. Still, I must be careful how much I say as he has a knack for making you say more than you intended. When that happens, he easily determines your intent and uses it against you. He’s warned me as much. “Never put yourself in a position to answer questions for which you know not why they were asked.”
“Families used to kill each other to acquire another Nome’s resources. This created global financial insecurity.” I take a small breath and continue, “Pursuals became a way to choose a suitable mate for scionesses but they became dangerously competitive as they were primarily for lower ranked scions to move up the ranks.”
Father rubs his chin vigorously and something about his blank expression makes me skittish, feeding my doubts. He’s going to tell me no.
“Didn’t they end up in bloodshed, with scions dying left and right?” He asks. “Isn’t that why we have Pairing ceremonies now? They’re a
much more civilized way for families to align via business and marriage. You like history, you should know this.”
Allow him to feel he knows more about this than you do. Lull him into over-confidence and be patient. “Yes, Father. However, there was a period when Pursuals were conducted without deaths shortly before Pairings became the norm. For my Pursual, we can insist on the same.”
I continue speaking before he shuts down the idea. “Our nome’s announcement of a Pursual would attract attention from all the nomes. There hasn’t been one in generations. The others in the Twenty will want to be associated with a revived tradition. Particularly one that has the specter of danger.” His eyes narrow. “And because a pairing with the highest-ranked scioness will guarantee their Nomes elevation, everyone will take a stab at the chance. It would attract the best of the best.”
He studies me for a long time and I can barely breath. Finally, he nods in agreement and I unclasp my hands, placing my wet palms on my thighs.
“Say no more, Portan and I will make it happen.” He returns to his table screen.
The conversation is over and I know it. Despite his brusque manner of ending our discussion, I’m elated he agreed and I’ll get my way. My stomach tickles with excitement.
The narthex isn’t as dim as it was when I initially walked through.
Chapter Ten
I race as quickly as my feet allow, only stopping when the glossy osmite metal doors of my bedroom shut behind me.
With my back to the cold door, I squeal.
For the first time in three months, I feel hopeful for a future with Invier. I’ve been wondering how to convince father that a Pursual would make for a better option than a pairing and my opportunity presented itself today.
Add to that, I actually convinced him to agree to a Pursual. My shock is beyond belief because father has never agreed with anything I’ve said. Never.
I’m so glad I put in the effort to learn about Pursuals and that I listened to father’s oft-given advice to seize the day. He always reminds me of the importance of taking advantage of whatever situation I’m in. I daresay I did so today!
I’ve got to tell Bel the good news.
Leaving the door, I head for my desk against a glass wall that shows me blue waters below. Crisp white waves ruffle the otherwise calm sea’s surface. From this vantage point, the water and its black sand appear close by. However, the beach is not walking distance. I sometimes wish my living quarters was closer to the water, but Father worried that such distance from the main mansion would pose a security risk.
“Call Bel,” I say to my house’s AI. Three white dots stream repeatedly across my desk’s black surface as I wait impatiently for a connection. My gaze strays to the three boxes on my desk. The white one was once my mother’s. Constructed from mother of pearl, diamonds and gold. The silver one was gifted to me by Father when I turned fifteen, its exterior plain and smooth, resembling metal. The last one is the black box Invier gifted to me. It holds two of my most precious possessions - my first handwritten love letter from a boy and dried Kadupul Blossoms.
“Yeah?” Bel’s voice jars me back to the screen. Wide eyes stare at me before darting into the darkness looming behind her.
I can’t focus enough to tell her about my victory. “Okay, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m trying to get away from -” She stops moving. Her sentence hangs in the air as a voice booms from somewhere in the deep.
“Belema Mezan, show yourself or I will report you to Titane Mezan.”
Her brows grip together and words tumble through gritted teeth. “You picked a horrible time to comm me.”
“What’s going on?”
“Mistress Ifan is hunting me down to get to class.” She looks backwards. “I just want to be anywhere but here right now.”
I repress a chuckle. Of course, this has something to do with Mistress Ifan.
“This is your very last class until you are a fully-qualified Restorer, shouldn’t you want to get it over and done with?”
She makes a face. The face that tells me she thinks my suggestion is the pits.
“That’s easy for you to say, your education hasn’t been in classrooms your entire life.”
My education has been unconventional. Like every other Nome child, I attended formal classes from age three to ten. However, after that, I spent my days learning about Nome Reffour’s industry, manufacturing. I’ve worked in almost every possible position in the last six years. I was once a gopher moving boxes from facilities to transports headed to unknown destinations. Then, there was the time I served as a secretary to a low-level director with bad dandruff. When I left that position, I gifted her a series of yearlong visits with my personal hairstylist. My training has been long and tedious in its own right, but it’s been practical, unlike Bel’s experience where she’s been trapped in a room listening to a teacher lecture.
“What did you call me for, Neat? I can only hold my hand up for so long while getting away from Mistress Ifan.” She says sprinting and breathing heavily.
“Okay, I convinced Father that I should have a Pursual instead of a pairing ceremony.” The rapture of my success swirls in my chest.
She frowns and my enthusiasm wanes. “You’re allowed to be happy for me.”
A few blinks late, she says, “Sorry, I’m just a little confused. What’s a Pursual?”
“It’s a competition for scions where the winner is paired with the hosting scioness.”
“Wait, that type of Pursual?”
“Yes,” I nod, my excitement building again.
She comes to a halt. “First of all, I’m really proud of you for getting your dad to agree to this.”
“I know right? Father never agrees with me on anything.”
“Yes,” she taps a finger on her lips in thought. “Didn’t Pursuals end with lots of dead scions? I swear I heard that somewhere.”
“Like I told Father, they didn’t all end in death and mine won’t.”
More tapping of the lips.
“How is this supposed to help him get paired with you?”
“Who?” The word comes out too aloof and I know I’ve made a mistake from the change to her face. The look she gives me is a mix of exasperation and disgust.
“Listen here Neith Tamunoba Reffour,” she wags her index finger at me. “I know the reason why you want a Pursual over a Pairing.”
I stare at her. How did she find out? I’ve done everything to hide my tracks. So, how did she know? I consider lying but when it comes to me, she can sniff out the tiniest untruth if I don’t deliver it right. And I’ve already messed up.
“How -?”
“Oh please. Give me some credit, Neat. We’ve known each other our whole life. You think I didn’t notice your reaction when Invier gave you your birthday gift?”
Invier. Just the mention of his name sends butterflies through me.
“I -”
“Or, that I wouldn’t then notice when the two of you happen to go missing from your birthday party at the same time? By the way, that’s when I knew for sure that there was something between you two.”
The fluttering wings of the butterflies tickle my heartstrings. His caramel face and warm brown irises appear behind my closed lids.
“Um, hello?” Bel says, waking me from my brief trance. She swings her black hair off her shoulders. “You just got that lovey dovey look on your face. Eww.”
She starts walking again and I stick my tongue at her.
“How old is he, anyway?”
“Twenty.”
“That’s old but you tend to like aged things, so that’s no surprise.” She laughs.
“Twenty is not old, Bel.”
“It might as well be. He’s studying to become an adjudicator. That’s so serious.” She walks on in silence, her heels clicking on the stone tile of the passageway. She abruptly turns serious, saying, “He doesn’t seem the type to want to participate in a Pursual, though.”
/> I sigh deeply, thinking about what Bel just said. Invier is not one to fight for my hand. He’s told me as such when I’ve tried, in a roundabout way, to test how he’d react to participating in the Pursual.
She reads the concern on my face and asks, “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, Bel. What should I do?” All the excitement I felt not too long ago has vanished and I feel a sense of dread. Out of nowhere, my scalp itches and my fingers leave my necklace to rake away the discomfort with my nails.