“Conditions?” she asks, bewildered. She scans the roof for Adamek but doesn’t see him.
Nikolaus fights to stay conscious. “When we first made the blood pact,” he says, “in exchange for his allegiance … Morgen wanted only two things. The first was the sole right to kill his father.…”
“I know this already!” she snaps, voice rising. “He wanted to kill his father and receive amnesty.”
Nikolaus looks into her eyes. “No,” he says sadly. “He never wanted amnesty.”
“I don’t understand.”
Lie.
Nazirah looks at the pendant. Why did Adamek leave it behind, buried for good?
Don’t ask a question, if you don’t want to know the answer.
And she never had.
“Nazirah … he wants to die.”
“No.”
“His second condition was that we not interfere … when he chooses to go.”
“No!” she yells, so loudly it frightens her. “You’re lying!”
Nikolaus’s breathing slows. “Like most men,” he says, “he wants to be judged for his sins.” His eyes close.
“It’s not fair.…”
“When is life ever?”
Nazirah grabs his face, trembling. “How am I supposed to live without you?”
He smiles. “You just … live.”
He passes that way, face upturned at the sun. Nazirah watches the last family she has leave. She bends, slowly kissing his forehead. “I love you,” she whispers, then stands shakily. Everyone around her, even Aldrik, is crying. No one speaks, for no words can comfort. Cato detaches himself from Lumi, making sure Cander supports her. He hugs Nazirah tightly, wiping a tear with his thumb. “What happens now?” she asks him, staring at what remains.
“Now,” Cato says, “you go save him.”
Nazirah pulls back. “What?”
“Nazirah,” he says, “when have you ever listened to your brother?” He leans in close so only she can hear. “It’s time you stopped living for the dead.”
She whispers, “Thank you,” because it’s exactly what she needs to hear. Nazirah takes off, weaving through the crowd, jumping over rubble and ruin. She bolts down the winding staircase, back into the grand room, searching frantically amidst the rebels.
He isn’t here.
Nazirah stops. She closes her eyes, tries thinking like him, imagining where he might go. Her head snaps up immediately. She makes a sharp left, sprinting towards Adamek’s room. Nazirah passes it quickly, turning down an unfamiliar hallway she knows far too well. Not bothering to knock, she enters the first room on the right. Soft pastels and feminine scents waft over her. Nazirah walks through Victoria’s chambers, heading straight for the bathroom. She hesitates for only a moment before turning the handle.
Her breathing relaxes marginally. Adamek sits on a chair, gun resting in lap, in front of the empty bathtub. He’s largely unharmed, but his eyes are empty. “I figured you’d come eventually,” he says, staring at the gleaming white porcelain. “Wouldn’t want to miss the finale, right?”
Nazirah wordlessly sits before him, cross-legged, a child at story time. She gently places his gun on the cold floor, takes his hands. They are both miraculously okay and have come so far and still she may lose him yet.
“Thank you,” she says, “for saving me again. I seem to always owe you my life.”
Adamek nods distantly, distracted by her hands. Nazirah needs not ask what he’s fixated on. He brushes her knuckle, looks at her. “Ramses?” he asks quietly.
“It felt good,” she confesses, “to do it. Just for a second, but that second felt so good.”
“You’re not a killer, Nation,” he says, kissing her knuckle. “You’re so pure it hurts. You’re everything I ever wanted. And nothing I could ever have.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.
“But I want it,” he says. Tears fall down his face, baptizing her anew. “I can’t live with this guilt anymore. I need the judgment … the peace.”
“What are you waiting for, then?”
“I couldn’t do it,” he mutters. “You were so fearless before, so ready to die. When it comes down to it, I’m a coward … exactly like my father.”
“You’re not a coward,” she says earnestly. “You’re the bravest person I know.”
“I am a coward,” he repeats. “But if I’m being entirely honest, I also wanted to see your face one last time.”
“How did it feel, Morgen,” she asks, “to finally … take it?”
“It felt good, Nation,” he answers, looking into her eyes. “So good.”
Nazirah shuts her eyelids. He touches them, and she wishes time would stop. She thinks of her parents, of her mother’s last wish. She thinks of the promise she made, now the last Nation standing. She thinks of what Adamek wants … and she knows.
Nazirah opens her eyes. “Morgen,” she says softly, “has my day come?”
Adamek searches her face. He knows what she’s offering, what she’s sacrificing. “You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” he whispers.
Nazirah picks up the gun, shaking. “I think I have to,” she says, “despite what I want.”
He nods, standing slowly. She rises too, dragging the moment out. “Is Caal okay?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“Your brother?”
“… Fine.”
He sighs. “You always were a crap liar.”
Nazirah bites her lip.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, as though realizing he’s never said it before. And he hasn’t. “For everything.”
“I know.”
Nazirah inhales deeply. She aims the gun at him, trying not to waver. Adamek stands before her, awaiting release, awaiting redemption. “I thought I wasn’t worth salvation,” he jokes, a fit of madness to make her smile.
Nazirah says she’s changed. But standing there, she realizes there are some innate things that will never change. She knows what they need, what they want, what she should do to make everyone else happy. But Cato is right. It’s time she stopped living for the dead … and started living for herself.
She is so selfish.
And she won’t do it.
“I lied.”
Nazirah unloads the gun, tossing it away with satisfying finality. She watches the conflicted emotions cross his face. Disappointment registers, then anger, then anguish. But maybe, just maybe, there’s relief too.
“I told you not to save me again.”
She steps forward. “I’m not,” she tells him. “I’m saving myself.”
“I’m no good for you, Nation,” he says. “I’m no good at all.”
Nazirah pulls the amnesty pendant off her neck. She slips it back over Adamek, the rightful owner. “I don’t believe that,” she says. “Do what you want with your life … but I won’t be the one to take it away.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being with me?”
“Yes,” she replies honestly. “But I’m more afraid of being without you.” Nazirah stands on tiptoes, gently grabs his shoulders. Into his ear she whispers, “I forgive you.”
“It can’t be that simple!” he cries, breathless and overwhelmed. “You forgive me, after everything I’ve done? That’s it? End of story?”
Nazirah smiles, shakes her head. “It’s not the end, Morgen,” she says. “It’s the beginning.” She kisses him. He doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t give in. And slowly, so slowly, he kisses her back.
Nazirah Nation is alive.
###
About the Author
M.P. Attardo is a twenty-something, part-time writer, full-time daydreamer. She has a college degree … is still trying to figure out what on earth to do with it. She loves amateur baseball commentating, heckling, and overindulging.
http://maryattardo.blogspot.com
https://twitter.com/maryattardo
M. P. Attardo, Intermix Nation
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