“I was drowning my sorrows over you leaving,” he says seriously.
Nazirah snorts. “I’m sure.”
“I really will miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” she sighs. “You’ll try to visit me when the campaign comes to the Red West?”
“If they let me off assignment,” he says, “in a heartbeat.”
“Well … convince them,” she says.
Someone coughs loudly. They turn, spotting Aldrik, Nikolaus, and Adamek waiting by the car. Nazirah walks over to greet Nikolaus as Cato puts her luggage in the trunk. Aldrik huffs as soon as Nazirah moves from the entrance, getting into the driver’s seat.
Nazirah is annoyed. “I’m not late,” she says to Nikolaus, standing up on her tiptoes to give him a light hug.
Nikolaus returns it with unusual enthusiasm. “I didn’t say anything,” he tells her.
“I’m actually early,” Nazirah continues, “so you can go ahead and tell Aldrik right now to stuff the attitude.”
“I’ll pass,” he says. “I’m just happy you showed.”
“Someone has to represent our family.”
“Be safe, Nazirah,” Niko says. “I’ll be checking in with Aldrik daily to get updates. I know you’ll make us proud.”
Cato’s hug lasts much longer. Nazirah closes her eyes, trying to relax. She doesn’t feel confident. She doesn’t know how she can do any of this. She pulls away from Cato slowly, aware of several pairs of eyes on them. Cato smiles sleepily. “What’s that stupid saying, Irri?” he asks. “It’s not ‘goodbye,’ it’s ‘see you later?’”
Adamek snorts and Cato shoots him a glare.
“You’re such a clown,” Nazirah says, laughing.
“I brought this for you.” He pulls something out of his sweatshirt. It’s Nazirah’s favorite picture of them, the one of her smiling and holding the fish. “Something to remember me by,” he says, looking at Adamek, “When I’m not around to protect you.”
It’s a beautiful gift, more than she could have hoped for. Nazirah hugs the frame tightly to her chest, suddenly afraid of saying goodbye, afraid of losing him entirely. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“I can’t follow you this time, Irri. But I’ll always be with you,” he says.
“Please be careful.”
“I will,” he says. Hesitating, he adds, “if you see my family, just … just tell them I love them. Okay?”
Nazirah nods. “I will.”
Cato leans into her. “Watch your back,” he whispers into her ear.
“I’ll be fine.” She smiles and gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Touching as this heartwarming display of affection is,” Aldrik says, leaning his head out the window, “we’re expected in Rafu before the end of the war.”
Nazirah bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to laugh. She gives Cato one final quick hug and then slides into the backseat of the car. Adamek follows her lead, sitting on the opposite side. Aldrik fires the ignition and the car begins moving. Nazirah watches as Cato and Nikolaus get smaller and smaller in the distance. They are waving dots for a while as the car exits the various security gates leading out of the compound, and then Nazirah cannot see them at all anymore. She faces forward, into her new reality.
The ride to Rafu is silent and awkward. To distract herself, Nazirah stares at Cato’s picture. She smiles, gently tracing her fingers over the seashells on the frame. Adamek runs a hand over one. “If recon doesn’t work out,” he says dryly, blowing glitter off his fingertips, “Caal definitely has a backup career in the arts.”
“His little sister glued them on,” she says, unable to look at him. Nazirah is still pretty distraught over what she saw in the Iluxor, and she doesn’t know how well she can hide it. She also hasn’t been home since her parents’ funeral. The thought of returning with him, of all people, feels entirely wrong.
They begin passing familiar scenery. Large sand dunes run perpendicular to alabaster cliffs. The paved roads narrow, crack, and eventually become impacted dirt. The houses shrink, sinking to the ground. They transition into the familiar beach bungalows and cottages of Nazirah’s youth. Children cycle on bicycles, standing on the pegs, laughing and racing. This is southern Eridies, birthplace of stolen kisses under the boardwalk, endless summer days, and sticky heat.
Aldrik turns down a familiar dirt road. Nazirah catches a glimpse of ocean in the distance and recognizes the area immediately. The car stops in front of a dilapidated inn. The engine has barely died before Nazirah is pushing open the door. She sets her feet on solid ground eagerly. Standing up, Nazirah smells the salty air and hears the welcoming cry of seagulls.
Rafu is her home and Nazirah misses it so much it hurts. But all of it hurts. It hurts to stay away. And somehow, it hurts even worse to return.
Chapter Fifteen
The inn is even seedier inside, but Nazirah doesn’t complain. After several bribes, the innkeepers allow the three of them to stay there and host a few small meetings. Aldrik hands Nazirah her room key, telling her to meet in the lobby in an hour. He leaves without another word, heading straight for the bar. Nazirah sighs, setting off down the musty hallway. He’ll clearly be looking out for her the entire time.
Nazirah opens the door to her room, which is small but mercifully clean. She’s relieved to find that her two bags have already been brought up. Nazirah spends two minutes stuffing her clothes into the tiny dresser. She spends another thirty seconds perfectly positioning the photo of her and Cato on the wicker nightstand.
Her hands shake as she tries to drag out the time. She’s never been much of a public speaker. Nikolaus knows this. He’s the leader, not she. Nazirah has no idea what to say at this meeting in … fifty-seven minutes … to win anyone over. She usually says the wrong thing all of the time anyway.
Nazirah sits on the window seat, staring nostalgically at the streets below. She idly draws shapes in the dusty window, then opens it to let in some fresh air. Nazirah watches people walking energetically. Being away for so long gives Nazirah a new perspective on Rafu, on the beauty of its simplicity. She looks at the white cement walls of the bungalows, bleached from constant sunlight. She looks at the salty ocean, warm even in wintertime. The cares here seem deceptively small.
The minutes tick away.
Should she prepare something? Will it seem inauthentic if she writes down a speech? What would she even write? Niko didn’t tell her what to say; he barely told her anything! Is he expecting people to rally around the rebels at the sight of her face? Nazirah doesn’t think that will quite cut it.
Twenty minutes to go and Nazirah cannot stand waiting anymore. She gives her hair a quick brush and strolls downstairs. The lobby is empty, but Nazirah spots Aldrik the next room over, still at the bar. He and Adamek are sitting in a far corner of the room, heavily engrossed in conversation. From the number of empty glasses at their table, Nazirah can tell they’ve been there the entire time.
Nazirah storms over to their table, bristling in indignation and attracting the stares of several patrons. She stands over them, arms crossed, clearing her throat loudly. Adamek glances up at the noise, but Aldrik continues scribbling away illegibly in his notebook. Without looking, Aldrik hands Nazirah his nearly empty glass. “Yes, love,” he says, “another brandy would be divine.” He slaps her backside.
Adamek’s green eyes light up in mirth. Nazirah’s blood boils. She throws the drink in Aldrik’s face and slams the now empty glass down in front of him. “Get your own goddamn brandy,” she snarls.
Several patrons sitting around them stop and stare at the commotion. Aldrik looks up at her with one astonished eye. “Oh,” he grumbles. “It’s only you.”
Nazirah slides onto the bench next to Adamek, glaring at the two of them. “Only me?” she growls. “Yes, it’s only little old me! Only one-third of your campaign, only the face of the rebellion!”
Aldrik wipes his own face with the back of his hand. “Congratulations, Nation,” he
snaps. “You’re the face of the rebellion. Are you hoping for a party or something? Is that why you’re acting like such a bitch?”
“No! I want to know why I’m being left out of strategy meetings!”
“First of all,” Aldrik says, “this isn’t a strategy meeting. It’s a simple financial discussion, which you’ve never been expected to handle and which neither Morgen nor myself thought you would particularly enjoy.”
“I thought –”
“Shut up,” Aldrik interrupts. “Second of all, since you’re practically wetting yourself with eagerness, Morgen here can tell you all about our prospective budget of kickbacks and bribes while I go get that brandy.”
“I didn’t –”
He rises quickly, snatching the empty glass off the table. “And finally, you better watch your goddamn mouth around me. You might be able to pull that shit with your brother, Nation, but the Commander isn’t here. You answer to me now.”
And with that, he’s gone.
Nazirah stares blankly ahead. She slowly faces Adamek, who immediately bursts into laughter. Nazirah has never seen him genuinely laugh before. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his cheeks dimple. “If he didn’t hate you before, Nation,” Adamek manages to sputter out between laughs, “he definitely hates you now.”
Nazirah bangs her head against the table, knowing that he’s right. “I can’t believe he thought I was the damn waitress,” she says.
Adamek continues laughing, mimicking her in a falsetto that makes Nazirah cringe. “Get your own goddamn brandy.”
“I do not sound like that,” she huffs, playfully pushing his shoulder.
It’s something she’s done countless times to Cato. But this isn’t Cato. Nazirah and Adamek both have their roles to play and this isn’t part of the script. At the contact, the two of them sober up. He takes a sip of his drink. “I see you’re talking to me now.”
“Was I not before?” she asks slowly.
“In the car, you were ignoring me.”
Nazirah flushes. “No different than usual.”
“Finished wallowing over your boyfriend, then?”
“Cato’s not my boyfriend.”
“Does he know that?”
“Yes!” she snaps. Nazirah glances at the clock, realizing they only have a few minutes until the meeting starts. She drums her fingers nervously on the table.
“All right there, Nation?” he asks. “You seem stressed.”
“I hate public speaking,” she says. Nazirah isn’t sure why she chooses this moment to open up to Adamek, but there it is.
He shrugs. “So?” Adamek puts a steady hand over hers, stilling her fingers. “Everyone handles anxiety in different ways. Your ways tend to be incredibly annoying.”
“And what would you suggest I do instead?” Nazirah asks, pulling her hand out from under his more slowly than she needs to.
“Relax.”
“Relax?”
Nazirah looks at his unfinished drink, suddenly thinking of Victoria Morgen and her electric blue champagne. She glances at him, sure the guilt is plastered on her face.
“What?” he asks suspiciously.
“I have a better idea,” she says quickly. Nazirah reaches for his glass and downs the rest of it in one gulp. She grimaces as the alcohol burns her throat. “Ugh,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s not my drink.”
Adamek blinks … blinks again. He says, “That was … unexpected.”
Nazirah playfully blows in his face, blaming it on the nerves and the alcohol. “What?” she asks him innocently. “Intermix girls can’t drink?”
#
The room is small, confining, and crowded. There are several well-connected fishermen, some lesser Eridian Lords, and even a few intermix families. Nazirah assumes the majority of them are here through word of mouth, because the rebels can’t openly campaign without attracting Medi attention. She simultaneously wishes people would leave so she doesn’t have to speak and wants them to stay and garner support.
Nazirah coughs into her hand. The spontaneous swig of brandy did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves, leaving only a bitter taste in her mouth. Aldrik looks at her sideways, clearly worried that she’s panicking.
She is.
The meeting starts. Aldrik initiates, simply talking about the rebellion, why it was formed, and what the insurgents hope to achieve. He’s a passable speaker, although monotonous. Nazirah tunes him out within the first five minutes.
Unsurprisingly, Adamek is an excellent public speaker. He doesn’t detail anything sensitive or personal, merely reiterates what Aldrik said in a more rousing way.
Adamek finishes speaking. Both he and Aldrik look at Nazirah. The crowd watches her expectantly. They’ve come to see her: intermix, native Eridian, orphaned face of the rebellion. They’ve come to hear her words. But she is wordless.
“Hello,” she begins feebly. “My name is Nazirah Nation.” She stops speaking, unsure of where to go from there.
Aldrik mutters, “We’re fucked.”
To Nazirah’s complete surprise and gratitude, a small hand shoots up energetically, tiny wrist shaking in enthusiasm. She sighs in relief, because questions are specific. Questions need answers. Nazirah nods at the young boy near the front. “Yes?”
“Hi, Na-zee-rah,” the boy says, pronouncing her name slowly. He looks as nervous as Nazirah feels. The boy glances worriedly at his mother, who nods encouragingly. Nazirah can tell from his bare feet, tattered clothing, and from his mother’s lack of tattoo that he’s intermix. “My name is Cayu,” he says, “and I’m six.” He looks at his mother for reassurance again. “Mrs. Nation was my teacher. I miss her a lot and I miss learning, and I was wondering if you would teach us instead?” Finished, he exhales, smiling brightly.
Nazirah thinks that the questions might not be such a good idea after all. In fact, she thinks they might be a horrible idea. She looks at Cayu for a moment, struggling not to break down, completely unable to talk about Riva.
“That’s very kind, Cayu,” Nazirah says eventually. “Mrs. Nation would be proud. It’s very brave of you to come here and ask that today.” Nazirah smiles a little, because it’s the truth. And if this small intermix boy could find his courage, then maybe she can find hers as well. “I miss her a lot too,” she tells him honestly. “But I don’t have her patience, so I wouldn’t make a very good teacher like she was.” Encouraged, Nazirah speaks more confidently to the room at large. “But this is just another reason why we need your support. Because both intermix and Eridian children need better education systems in place, so that we can all escape our self-fulfilling prophecy of poverty. We need more compassionate, devoted teachers, like my mother. We need better schools, new books, and more funds for education. We need rights, just like everybody else!”
There is unexpected, heady power behind her voice. The room is still, absorbing her words, and then a dozen more hands shoot upwards. Nazirah is so startled that she forgets to call on someone. Aldrik firmly hits her back, making her jump. Nazirah quickly points at a random guy in the corner.
“Hi, Nazirah,” a young man says. Nazirah recognizes him from the illegal marketplace that operates under the boardwalk. “Thanks for speaking with us today. My name is Michus and I live in neighboring Mandar. I knew Kasimir for several years. We often traded together and he even helped me build a cottage for my family.”
Nazirah wrings her hands behind her at the mention of her father.
“I was devastated to learn what had happened to him,” Michus continues, glaring at Adamek, “And to your mother. Nothing would honor me more than to fight in your father’s name. But we are a very poor territory. How can intermix and humble Eridians possibly expect to win against the mighty capital? Isn’t it a suicide mission?”
“I won’t stand here and tell you that this will be easy,” Nazirah says. “I won’t lie to you, Michus. Yes, the capital is powerful. But they have become lazy. They indulge themselves in their skytowers, while we suffer
in silence. Look around! Our passiveness kills us a little more each day! Look at how many lives have already been lost. Not just from the senseless murders, but from the constant famine and suppression our territory faces. If we do nothing, we are writing our own death sentences, and the death sentences of our children. And we will have only ourselves to blame.”
Several heads nod in approval. Nazirah sees Aldrik from the corner of her eye, clearly impressed by her heartfelt words.
“I have a question for you, Nazirah,” someone says loudly.
She knows that voice. Nazirah apprehensively scans the crowd for a raised hand, finds none. Her eyes lock onto familiar brown ones and she knows she’s done for. “Cander,” she says.
Cato’s older brother walks purposefully towards the center of the room, so that everyone can see. Cander and Nazirah have never exactly been the best of friends. Especially after Cato left home to join the rebellion. It was a huge matter of contention within the Caal household, although Cato never mentions it. Adamek, Aldrik, and the rest of the crowd watch their interaction curiously.
“You stand before us,” Cander projects, “asking us to risk our lives. Yet you refuse to invoke justice on the ones who have done us the greatest harm. We’ve all lost loved ones to this murderer beside you. Can you assure us that you won’t be so lenient on the Chancellor, on the rest of the loathsome Medis, who know all they need is daddy’s wallet and a mediocre apology in order to keep their heads? Can you tell us you’ve truly forgiven Adamek Morgen?”
The crowd is silent, hushed, waiting. Adamek tenses beside her. Cander’s words persecute Adamek, but Nazirah knows his intentions are directed elsewhere. He’s angry at Nazirah for taking his brother away – for taking him away for most of his life, to be honest. It’s this resentment that fuels Cander’s interrogation.
Nazirah stares at the floor, scuffing her shoe, willing herself not to cry. She’s completely unable to answer his question. Cander knows that Nazirah doesn’t forgive Adamek, no matter what the campaign implies. She may hate him just a little bit less, may understand him just a little bit more. But she doesn’t forgive him. And she can’t lie, not about this.