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I tilt my head. She sounds insolent and annoyed. Only one other beta has spoken to me like that…
Don’t go there, I command myself, turning away from her and walking toward a dark corner in the back of the shop.
The mug feels suspiciously cool in my hand, but I try to remain optimistic about its contents as I sit at a table in a far corner. But when I finally take a sip, I can’t contain a grimace—just as I thought, the coffee is ice cold and weak.
What would I give for a cup of hot, strong coffee?
The door tinkles as Marcus strides into the shop. Even in the muted light, I can see he’s got a big smile on his face, his blond hair slicked back from his wide forehead. His sparkling eyes flick toward the beta as he weaves his way through the empty tables.
“Marcus.” I nod and sip from my terrible coffee again when he falls into the chair opposite me.
“Administrator Sage,” he says cheerfully, scooting forward. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
My eyes dart to the streaked window over his shoulder, the pale-yellow sunshine providing little cheer to the empty street.
In the two weeks since my speech at town hall, most people have stayed close to home. Lately, I’ve only ventured out of Sage House when, like today, Marcus insists we meet in town. It’s easy to pretend like none of this is actually happening if I don’t have to look at it.
“Beautiful,” I clip out, sipping from my cup again. “Want some coffee? It’s bad, but strangely it’s hitting the spot.”
“No,” he says, eyeing my cup with distaste. “I never drink anything that alters my mind.”
“Huh.” I lift a shoulder. “Seems that’s all I drink lately.” I breathe out a cynical laugh, but he only watches me, stoned-faced. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, sipping again.
He steeples his fingers on the table and purses his lips. “It’s time we do something about Cypress House.”
“Oh?”
“I think we’ve allowed that mess to go on long enough, don’t you?”
Shit. I should have known this was coming.
Immediately after the blackout, Rill and his men started acting strangely. They all congregated at Cypress House with their mates, creating a loud, stinking encampment. I knew why they were doing it—they thought that the men and guns were going to come in for the attack, and they’d be required to protect themselves.
Honestly, I thought an attack was imminent, too. Which is partly why when Marcus came to me voicing the council’s displeasure with the encampment, I talked him into putting it off for a bit longer. We had enough problems as it was, I told him. Why worry ourselves with something that would only create more issues if we tried to disrupt it?
Luckily, he agreed. But now that we’ve maintained relative order for so long and we haven’t been attacked by the outside world, but apparently, he’s circled back.
I shrug. “Times are hard, Marcus. I don’t see any harm in it. Plus, I’ve heard they quieted down a lot in the past few weeks.”
I swallow more bad coffee, my throat dry. I don’t want to remind him that’s where Stella is, and presumably Wyatt. I went to visit him and Camilla a few days ago, and found their house on Sage Hill long abandoned.
They must be at Cypress House. In fact, they have to be there. I haven’t seen them anywhere else, and Goldenrod is only so big.
“I think there’s a great deal of harm in it,” he huffs. “If anything, behavior like that is only extending Goldenrod’s current troubles.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head, obviously exasperated. “They’re loud, living outdoors, and—and—” He sputters. “Not one of them has used their coupons. How can we expect to have the lights and water restored if we’re not living within the Order?”
Suddenly exhausted, I push aside my coffee and drop my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. I can’t do this shit anymore. When I drop my hands, I find him watching me, a clueless expression on his face.
“What?” he clips out crossly.
“Marcus, I think it’s time,” I reply, my voice flat.
“Time for what?”
“It’s time we drop the pretext.”
