It was the thief who rankled him.
“I knew you should have it,” she said.
Nik folded it up. It was his father’s property, something he’d deemed Nik unworthy of seeing. Whatever the chemicals meant was none of his concern. But the thought of having a leg up on Lafontaine for once was enticing.
Elara stared at him expectantly. It was suffocating.
“I… have an appointment,” he repeated, then dashed upstairs to hide once more.
By midmorning, the paper had become no lighter in his pocket, and he’d narrowed his future down to two options:
1. Decipher the equation.
2. Do nothing and wait for the contest to end and this whole thing to be over.
Option two would only end in Lafontaine destroying Elara. He wouldn’t let her become a beacon of hope to the Restes, especially if she was brazen enough to defy him and cost him everything.
Nik was lost. When was the last time he’d been allowed to decide something for himself? For the last four years, his father had ordered him about: choosing his apprenticeships, using him to dig up dirt on colleagues, even selecting this house for Nik to live in.
The paper offered him a chance. To make a choice of his own. To be worthy of Elara.
Flustered, Nik found himself knocking on Blai’s door.
“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” he blurted when they appeared at the doorway.
“What?” Blai stared back at him.
“A walk.”
“Is the house on fire?”
Nik frowned. “No. Why?”
“Because that’s the only reason to ever exercise.” They folded their arms over a mustard-colored blouse with more ruffles than an opera curtain.
Shame burned his stomach. “Forget it.”
Heels clicked after him as Blai took his arm. “Such drama. Where to?”
Police were everywhere. Nik remembered the days after the bombing when the city guards had flooded the streets and forced people backinto their homes. He’d watched from his apartment window as entire families were dragged out in manacles, checking each face for his mother.
As autumn had heaved a dying gasp into winter, Nik had been forced to live on those streets, dodging police as he found any hovel to sleep in for the night. It had been impossible to turn a corner without running into their black uniforms.
Nothing had changed.
Almost nothing… a peace he couldn’t quite name ebbed from every cobblestone.
They turned down an alley Nik barely remembered. Laundry stretched overhead, bleached skirts and trousers dancing in the sweltering summer breeze. A lullaby floated from a window nearby.
Nik had left the Restes with the intention of returning when he’d fixed the system that had caused it to break. Anything less, he’d once thought, was failure.
“Why did you risk everything to stand up to the Vasomar queen?” he asked.
Blai stopped, face coiled in pain.
“I’m sorry.” Nik raked a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m not thinking straight, and I—”
“There was so much promise in the air.” Blai turned to a window box overflowing with geraniums in every color. “Vasomar had just recovered from war, and the whole country was filled with music and art and joy. I got caught up in it. I wanted my plays to reflect the hope my people needed.”
