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“I don’t like staying in one place for too long. It makes us sitting ducks.”
“Fine,” Runa calls over her shoulder as we enter the cave tavern. “But they’ll want to see you before you leave.”
As we walk past the tables of clanking chalices, moaning women, and men devouring their breakfast—we’re hit with the scent of cigar smoke, freshly baked bread, and leather.
Our hoods are up to disguise us, and I’m under Dessin’s arm. He makes no effort to hide his aura of dominance. The shadows of death and destruction follow him everywhere. A king sauntering among peasants.
And I’m wrapped in his possession.
We take a seat at the table closest to the bar. Dessin sitting across from Runa, he glances over at me. “Up, in my lap,” he commands.
It frightens me that I hardly give a thought to obeying. I’m up. I’m sliding into his lap with ease. His arms circle my waist like that’s their resting position. That’s where they belong.
Runa’s eyes bounce between the two of us. She blinks those feline black eyes as if she’s staring at a couple of ghosts.
“Out with it,” Dessin grumbles from behind me.
“It’s odd,”—Runa shakes her head—“seeing you two after hearing all of the stories.”
“Is anyone going to tell us these stories?” I ask.
“I—” She pauses, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re not allowed to. Telling you what is destined to happen could ruin everything.”
Dessin is still beneath me. Deciding whether or not she’s full of it.
“The elders will only tell you what the prophecy asks of our people. Instructions.”
“Instructions?” Dessin asks.
She nods, smiling up at the man who sets breakfast plates down in front of us.
“From what I’ve heard, yes. Although no one knows what is to be given to you. It’s been tasked with each generation of elders since—a long time.” Runa digs into her grits and porridge.
I politely push around my food, taking tiny bites before I realize Dessin can’t reach his with me in his lap. I look back at him, my eyes signaling to his food to ask, Want me to move?
Dessin shakes his head. “Eat.”
But every couple of bites I take, I pass him a piece of fruit, forming a system. I try and shift my weight forward so I’m not suffocating him while he tries to enjoy his food. Still, he refuses my distance by tugging my hips backward, pinning me against his chest.
I fight to not let the satisfaction show on my face in front of Runa.
“What didn’t you two like about the city that you’d venture all the way out here?” she asks between bites of food.
“Was it the starvation or the misogyny? Or was it the stupid bubble bath shit?” she asks again.
I scoff with a mouthful of food. “Yes.” It was all bad. I’m still fighting the gnawing pains of the starvation. For some reason, I can’t shake the need to continue my routine of eating only when I feel I might faint. It’s sick. It’s an illness, perhaps? And I’m careful, secretive, even, to hide these unhealthy compulsions from Dessin and Kane.
Runa nods. “You know the seven colonies don’t control women the way your people do. Gender is of no importance to the way our society is run. Only heart and will. That’s all that matters.”
“Must be nice,” I say tightly. And I mean that. I would love to live in a world that doesn’t let a label limit your worth. If we cared less about a woman’s appearance and more about what she could be capable of… wouldn’t that be a society worth fighting for?
“How do you know so much about the city? They don’t even know you exist. There are myths and rumors. But Demechnef isn’t aware of your actual existence.” Dessin isn’t eating anymore. He’s interrogating her. Uncertain of her motives.
“We have ways of watching.” A knowing smile. “But there’s only one colony that gets involved. Only one that watches and moves among the rest of you without ever being spotted.”
“Who?”
“Crimson Kres. From the Red Oaks. They went missing after the slaughter of the RottWeilen.”
