When do you stop thinking of younger siblings as 'immature?' Is it when they show flashes of insight that make you realize they see more than you give them credit for?
Lily stares at me from across the breakfast nook in the tiny lower ground room we’ve been given by the rebels.
She’d been only ten on the trip back from Bombay. And perhaps it was because she’d been that young did she find it easier to accept our new identity of being refugees on the run. A reality which wouldn’t change anytime soon.
Not since the government had declared civil war four years ago. Thousands had lost their lives as the armed forces loyal to the Prime Minister and the rebels who opposed his authoritarian rule battled each other.
Millions had been forced out of their homes. Many made their way to the more prosperous countries of the East. Indostan, with its economic boom, and the newly rebuilt city of Bombay in particular, had been a favored destination. Of course no one knew the reality of what awaited them on the other side.
Not many survive the journey to the East.
Fewer made it back.
Yeah, I’m one of the lucky ones all right.
A shudder runs through me thinking about it and I clench my fists at my side.
The involuntary gesture has Lily coming around and hugging me.
She’s younger, wiser than me. She knows that the thoughts of revenge which often occupy me are also futile to indulge in. Thoughts that sap me of energy, of my optimism, turning me into the lifeless shell I’m fast becoming.
Emotionless.
Just like him.
"You haven’t even finished your breakfast," she says.
"Yeah, just too tasty for me," I say in a droll voice.
Both of us look at the gray-brown oatmeal on the table in front of us and burst out laughing. The slimy paste tastes bland at best and like thick, uncooked sludge at worst. But we’re fortunate to get it, that we don’t have to forage for our own food. Yet.
It’s also the one meal that will sustain me through the heavy sword and combat practice sessions during the day.
The smile lights up Lily’s face, her light gray eyes shimmering with mirth. She’s filled out since we returned from Bombay. Her skin which had turned almost mahogany in the sun has lost its burnt edge. Under the cooler New London skies, it’s turned a honey-gold color which has stayed.
Just like his eyes. Amber eyes.
Lily looks different from the hollow-eyed kid I knew in the Jungle. A kid who even then never panicked. Not when I had been taken to the General, nor when the shifters had kept her captive. Not even when I’d sprung her out of that hut in the Jungle and we’d made it to the ship and out of the city before dawn the next day.
In short, I managed to put physical distance from Bombay, from the Jungle, but not from the memories, which have only grown stronger with time.
"You’re already late." Lily’s voice cuts through my thoughts. And I try hard not to grin at the scolding I sense is coming on.
"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Granny," I say, still dawdling at the table.
"You don’t want to go do you?" she says again, displaying that flash of street-smart wisdom I’m still not used to. "You’re thinking of him," she scolds.
I’m always thinking of him.
Three years and even now his touch lingers on my skin. Comes back to haunt me in my sleep. Even now a whiff of cinnamon transports me back to his home. By the sea. But Jai has pushed me away, turned his back on me.
"No, I am not," I protest.
"You know he’s thinking of you too," she says, her voice soft, so all-knowing, so convincing that for a second I almost believe her. Almost.
Then the moment of brightness inside fades away to be replaced by gray. Gray skies like the ones outside the window. Drizzling with the ever-present rain that marks this city.
I hug her in reply and she throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me with all the love of a younger sister.
"Come on," I say, my voice muffled against her heavy dark hair. "Let’s leave before Mikhail sends out a search party for me."
One last hug before she reaches for her jacket.
By the time I pull on my own, zipping it up, she’s already at the door, skipping from one leg to the other, ready to go. Ready to be a little girl again.
"I’ve never seen anyone so happy to go to school." I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"I’ve never seen anyone so reluctant to go to work." She grins back.
In that instant love for her wells up. A simple emotion, nurturing, washing away the confusion that often comes with thinking of Jai.
We head out, towards her school. It's run by the rebels; at the ramshackle community center not far from our home.
"Aria, you’re late." The rebel leader’s voice scolds me when I walk into the designated planning room of the crumbling building at Mile End. The brief thirty-minute walk has swept the last thoughts of the Jungle from my head. Crumpling my emotions into a corner of my mind, I walk through the foyer, not noticing the broken ceiling beams that dominate the once-impressive dining room. Taking my place at one end of the long table, now riddled with sword marks, I stay quiet.
Mikhail should know by now that I’m not going to apologize for anything. I don’t care for the rules of the rebel team. I’d have never joined them if it hadn’t been for Lily.
But they’d assured me that if anything were to happen to me they’d take her into the growing pool of orphans that they cared for. Mikhail is good that way. He loves the kids, will protect them at any cost. So yeah, I’m grateful to him for giving Lily a shot at a future.
"So what did you think of our plan?"
He drums his fingers on the table and the vibrations travel down the table towards me. His silver-green eyes glitter against the dark bronze of his skin.
The power in those shoulders is unmistakable. Coiled, like a resting snake. Mikhail at rest is only a couple of degrees less lethal than Mikhail in action. It makes me wary.
Almost as wary as the moody, lurking energy of someone else. Thoughts of Jai crowd in again and I shove them away. He’d done it, pushed me away. So why am I not able to forget him?
Feeling an urge to wring my hands, I instead lock my fingers together, clasping them tight in front of me.
"Well?" Mikhail’s voice cuts through my thoughts. An edge of impatience sharpens them.
"You underestimate the Indus team if you think they’ll just fall in line," I say.
Mikhail clasps his palms together on the table. "Elaborate," he says in a cool voice.
I run my hand through my hair, trying to make sense of my thoughts. "They may not be as battle experienced as you are but they are master manipulators. Especially the uncle."
"You mean the General? Vishal?" he asks, not sounding surprised.
I wince on hearing that name.
When I don’t reply, the silence stretches.
I look away, out of the window at the far end of the room, at the gray light fading outside. I’ll have to tell them. Now that I’ve started this line of conversation I don’t have a choice but to share everything.
I try to speak but have trouble forming the words.
I am very aware that whatever I say or do now will hurt Jai. As long as he’s a Guardian of Bombay, he’s on the opposite side. Hated almost as much as the PM and his policies.
He let you go.
Why do you still defend him? Worry about him?
"What do you mean?" Mikhail’s cold voice cuts through my thoughts. His tone brooks no argument.
He knows my information can make all the difference in the mission we are about to embark on.
"Your sister’s life depends on your telling us everything you know," he adds, his voice colorless.
I shrink away from the truth in his words.
But he’s right, I can’t hold back. It’s the only way out, even if that means hurting Jai. Hurting myself. If I want a better future for my sister, I need to tell him everything I know. After all
, my goal is to help the rebels negotiate a treaty with the Guardians of Bombay, to find a safe place for our people in the East. And I must use everything I have at my disposal for that.
"The sword," I say. "You must use his sword to get what you want."
Mikhail stiffens and those peculiar silver-green eyes of his snap on me. He knows this is important, that he’s finally got something that will give him the upper hand over the Guardians.
"Tell me more," says Mikhail.
25
"Jai inherited the sword from his mother," I say. "Apparently it’s a potent weapon. And only Jai can unlock its real power. Something to do with his being the descendant of Catherine of Braganza," I add, my voice low.
"Power?" Mikhail asks, a thread of surprise running through his voice.
So this information is new for him. A pause as he takes it in. Then, "So what’s all this to do with us?" he asks.
Mikhail’s already joining the dots, sensing there’s still something important I’m not telling him.
I clamp down on the worry that leaps to life inside. I’m only doing this to help find a new home for my family and for my people.
Nevertheless, I choose my next words with care. "I know that the sword holds emotional value for him," I say.
"That’s good leverage." Mikhail nods. "But what else? What are you not telling us?"
I swallow and my eyes jerk back to his face. Mikhail’s so perceptive. He stares at me. Looks through me with those silver-green eyes. So clear they look like mirrors. Like they’re reflecting my thoughts back at me.
My eyes slide away, unable to hold his gaze, fixing on my hands, palms clasped, the knuckles so white I wonder why they don’t hurt more.
I just feel numb inside.
"Tell me everything," Mikhail commands. "You swore allegiance to us when you joined us, in return for protection."
I swear inwardly and swallow the irrational burst of fear that runs through me. I’m worried about Jai.
But why? Why even think of him when I’ve severed all connection? When there’s nothing between us now?
Pushing away all emotion, I narrow my eyes, meeting Mikhail’s pale gaze. "He promised his mother he would protect the city and he inherited her sword when he turned eighteen," I say.
"It runs in the family, the connection between the sword and their bloodline. It’s how his mother sparked off the tsunamis that destroyed much of the old world. The city of Bombay was wiped out almost completely," I add. "And the storms which laid waste to much of the United Kingdom too."
"You’re saying it’s because of that sword and its power that New Britain was born? All this," he gestures to the window, "this civil war, everything was sparked off in part due to that sword?"
His voice is calm but below that I sense a pulse of disbelief, something that gets my back up.
"I can only tell you what I heard," I say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. "I don’t think Jai has ever used the power of the sword. Not that way. He uses it like a normal weapon. I’m not even sure he believes he can tap into its power."
"You defending him now, Aria?"
My eyes dart to him.
"Just stating a fact is all," I say, striving for a normal voice. But it comes out strained, the words wobbling at the end.
This time when he speaks his voice is almost gentle. "It was a traumatic experience for you, living in Bombay, in the Jungle, one I’m sure you’d want to put behind you. But look around you. We’ve all had similar experiences."
He’s right of course.
I let go of a breath, getting a grip on the emotions tumbling inside me. When I meet his eyes this time, he nods, satisfied with whatever he reads in them.
"So, you understand why you need to tell us everything? We must make this plan as failsafe as possible. It’s the only chance we have. The future of this city is in your hands, Ariana," he says.
My heart beats faster and I want to scream at him and say, "Not fair. Don’t put that on my shoulders. Don’t ask me to go against him."
But of course I don’t do that.
For I must put Jai behind me.
I must wrap up my feelings for him and bury them somewhere deep inside so he can’t get to them. Where even I can’t reach them. In times of life and death there is no space for vulnerability.
Sensing the turmoil in me, that I need a little time to gather myself, he gets to his feet. Walking to the window, he shoves the old-fashioned pane up before lighting a thin cigar.
"Fringe benefits of the new world, eh? I can smoke where I want."
His voice is light, casual. It helps some of the tension slide from my shoulder. But I’m not fooled. He’s waiting for an answer. Sure enough when he turns to me there’s an unspoken question on his face.
And I know then I’m going to tell him everything I know about Jai.
Why not? Odds are I’m going to die soon anyway. If the shifters don’t get me the PM’s soldiers might.
My mind made up, I walk over to him and take one of the long brown sticks.
Lighting up, I inhale and cough. It tastes nice, though, a distinctive vanilla flavor. A brand that’s no longer in production but apparently rolled by locals in the city just for him as a kind of "thank you" for saving their family. Yeah! Mikhail has that kind of following here.
The cigarette is too strong for me so I’m content to just stand there and let it burn between my fingers, breathing in the rain-soaked air now mixed with cigarette smoke.
Mikhail takes the cigarette from me and after a last puff stubs it out on the windowsill.
"So how long have you been in love with him?" he asks and I start.
"I’m not—" I’m about to deny it and then I stop myself. Am I that transparent or it’s just that he can read me so well?
He’s not looking at me this time. Instead, he just stares out through the open window. Across the once pristine grounds now filled with a row of tents. Temporary shelters for people displaced by the war, and who insist on staying close to this building. The space doubles up as headquarters and living quarters of the rebels.
"It’s written all over your face," he says, his voice flat. This time when he looks at me, my breath catches in my throat.
Those silver-green eyes flare as if catching some inner light, glowing with suppressed emotion.
"Mikhail…" I hesitate, unsure what to say.
Anger leaps off him, harsh enough to make me take a step back.
"Micah, I had no choice," I say.
His face pales a little. I know my use of his nickname has affected him.
Closing the distance between us, he pulls me to him so quickly that I slam into his chest, my breasts flattening against his muscles. His lips slant over mine and I feel the hurt, the anger, the helplessness bleed out of him.
My heart rams in my chest and I freeze.
I can feel my own pulse thunder at the base of my throat where it slams against his skin. Shut my eyes tight but don’t…can’t…push him away.
I don’t respond, either, just stay there as he ravages my mouth, drinks from me as if he knows already that he can never have me, but can’t let me go either. I’d known he liked me and hadn’t done anything to consciously lead him on.
But you’re still here, aren’t you? And it’s so tempting to just lean in. Lean on him for a while longer. Since Jai, I haven’t looked at anyone. Or felt attracted to anyone. Not remotely. Not till Mikhail. And only because I sense some of that strength, that flavor, so much like Jai, in him. But there’s more in Mikhail, a bitter darkness. And I know if I let him too close it could engulf me too.
So I don’t say anything. Or even move. Just stay in the circle of his arms, letting my body go quiet.
My stillness finally gets through and he slows down, coaxing my lips with his, brushing them again and again and again until they part almost of their own accord. My teeth touch his lips by accident and then he’s raising his head and I notice his chest rise-fall-rise as if he’s ha
ving difficulty staying in control. His hand squeezes my shoulder once before it falls to the side. But he doesn’t move away. Not even when I feel his arousal thrust against my waist. Not even when my cheeks flush.
He just stares at my mouth and I steel myself for him to kiss me again.
But he moves back, fists clenched at his side. A pulse beats at his forehead. He’s about to say something. Then, turning away with a curt "sorry," he’s gone.
I stand there for a few seconds more, letting the breeze cool my fevered skin, wondering what I’m feeling right now.
When I try to pull down the window pane it stays stuck open
26
Jai curses under his breath, and walks back-forth-back, pacing in front of the window. It’s been left open to let in the biting wind. Jai had tried to shut it but to no avail.
It’s stuck. No doubt, on purpose just so he can freeze his balls off while waiting to be given an audience by His Royal Highness Mikhail himself.
Of course, the monarchy no longer exists in New United Kingdom. They are gone, having fled at the first signs of civil unrest.
Four years ago the people had decided to storm against the authoritarian right wing party which had ruled the country for almost a decade. The Prime Minister had put all of the state’s muscle behind the army and dispatched soldiers to take control of London. The last straw was the collapse of all the government-funded support systems, leaving the people to fend for themselves. Mikhail had been one of them, until he’d defected and formed the Rebel Alliance.
The Alliance Jai is going to negotiate with.
He’s here to exchange "best practices" with them. As the new Chief Commander of the Council’s Army it falls to him to take on this mission.
After Aria left, the refugees continued to arrive from the West in large numbers. And his uncle had ordered the troops to fire on the helpless people in the hope that this would dissuade them. His father had intervened. And they’d agreed that Jai could go in person. His goal: to negotiate a settlement with New United Kingdom.
And now Jai’s here. And a part of him wonders if all this is just an excuse to meet Aria again.
Taken (Many Lives Book 2) Page 11
