Intermix Nation (30 page)

“Olag carried you back,” Solomon
confirms.

She fainted?

Nazirah has never fainted before … ever.

She sits up sharply this time, ignoring
their protests. The cloth slides off her forehead, falling to her
lap. Nazirah flings it away in frustration. “Why does my head hurt
so much?”

“I tried to catch you when you collapsed,”
Cato says. “But you hit your head on the stone first. We think you
have a concussion.”

“And Morgen –”

“He is fine, just fine!” exclaims Solomon.
He picks up Nazirah’s discarded cloth, wiping his own sweaty brow.
“We had quite a scare at the end, but Mr. Morgen prevailed. He is
with Mr. Slome right now and my best healers are tending to his
arm. He will be perfect in no time at all.”

Nazirah’s head feels fuzzy. Like she needs
everything repeated several times and then maybe once more to boot.
“The Khan is dead?”

“He is,” Solomon replies sadly. “But he knew
the risk. It is unfortunate that things have come to this, but it
is a blessing in disguise. We mourn the loss of Khanto. But we also
look towards the future, as the Red West allies with the
rebels.”

“But,” she persists, “how did he win? He was
on the floor. I thought for sure…”

Cato supplies a brief, nonchalant answer.
“Khanto thought, as did we all, that Morgen was done for after
getting injured. When he was speaking at the end, the Khan didn’t
even notice Morgen reaching for his fallen sword with his uninjured
arm. He let his guard down … didn’t even see it coming.”

“The Khan was not a man of honor today,”
Solomon mutters. “His desire for vengeance blinded him, leading him
astray from his own code.” He looks at Nazirah. “That was his
downfall.”

“Thank you for bringing me back,” she says
to them, glancing at Olag. “All of you.”

“I am relieved you are all right,” Solomon
says. “But I should go check on Mr. Morgen’s progress.” He says
something to Olag. “Please stay here and rest. I will send someone
up with tea shortly.”

Nazirah smiles weakly, mumbling her thanks
again. Solomon and Olag depart, leaving her alone with only Cato
and stiff silence. The pain in her head has subsided to an
unforgiving roar. “I can’t believe I fainted,” she says. “Must have
been the heat.”

“Or the severed head,” Cato responds
quietly.

“Wait until Lumi hears,” Nazirah sighs.
“She’ll crucify me.”

“Probably.”

Nazirah, bumbling and ever articulate,
attempts to change the subject. “Have you spoken with her at
all?”

“Once, a few days ago,” he says, shrugging.
“She really seems to enjoy working at the hospital, especially in
Zima.”

“Really?” questions Nazirah. “I never
pictured Lumi as having a wonderful bedside manner.”

Cato looks at her, impassive. “Stranger
things have happened.”

Nazirah coughs. “I guess.”

“I think that after what happened to Ani,”
he explains, “she finds comfort in saving the lives of others.”

“That makes sense,” Nazirah replies. “She
likes you, Cato.”

“And I like her,” he says. “She’s my
friend.”

“You know what I mean,” Nazirah presses.
“She really likes you.”

Cato sighs. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not trying to pry!” Nazirah says. “But
Lumi is beautiful, strong-willed and opinionated. She can even be
sweet sometimes, especially to you. I think you might be good
together.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, as long as you
approve.”

“Once we’re all back at headquarters,” she
continues, ignoring his sarcasm, “maybe you two can give it a
shot.”

“And what if I don’t want to give it a shot
with her?” he retaliates. “What if I want to give it a shot with
someone else?”

“That’s … fine too,” she says, playing with
the tassels on the duvet. “I just want you to be happy.”

Cato grabs her chin, forcing eye contact.
There’s pain in his eyes. And a deep longing that Nazirah has never
seen before – at least, not in person. “Are you really going to
make me say it?”

She tries in vain to pull her head away.
“Don’t say it,” Nazirah tells him.

“I know you know,” he pleads. “If you didn’t
before, you knew after watching that memory.”

Nazirah winces from his grip. This isn’t
Cato. This is a stranger, someone who has repressed his feelings
for too long and is now on the verge of exploding. “Don’t say it!”
she warns again.

“Why shouldn’t I? Afraid you might feel
something back?”

“Stop it!”

This has to stop, now, before it’s too late.
Before one of them says something they can never take back. “Irri,
please,” Cato begs, running his fingers frantically over her face.
“I’m in love with you.”

And there it is.

And now nothing can be the same between
them. Because Nazirah loves him, but she isn’t in love with him.
And pretending will only hurt him more.

“Cato …”

“I love you so much.…”

“Cato …”

There are tears in her eyes. But he isn’t
focusing, isn’t listening. He is too absorbed in his own raw
emotions, in bottled pain, in years of unrequited feelings to hear
her now. He leans in, kissing her softly, timidly. It is grass and
peppermint and sweetness … everything she should want. But Nazirah
doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want it at all. And it breaks her
heart.

Nazirah presses a firm hand to his chest,
ending the kiss. Cato pulls away abruptly. “What is it?” he
asks.

“You’re my best friend,” she says. “And I do
love you. I care more about you than anyone. But I can’t give you
what you want. I’m sorry.”

Cato glares at her coldly, rising from the
bed. “You are so completely fucked up,” he says. Nazirah shakily
stands as well. He holds up his hands, waving them in her face.
“What is it? Am I too clean for you? Not scratched enough?”

“What are you talk –”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
he shouts. “I can’t believe you would choose him over me, with all
our history!”

“I’m not choosing anyone over you!” she
cries, needing for him to understand. “I just can’t be with
you!”

He’s in her face now. “Don’t lie to me,
Nazirah! You know what you are? You’re a tease. I saw how you were
looking at him last night, and today. You’ve been acting weird for
weeks! But I never thought you could sink so low!”

“I’m not –”

“It’s absolutely pathetic to watch,” he
continues. “He’s using you! Are you honestly that insecure? You
only feel like a big girl when he’s fucking you into the
floorboards?”

Nazirah slaps him across the face, so hard
she can almost hear his skin stinging. “Leave,” she says.

“With pleasure, Nation,” he spits, walking
to the door.

“And you might want to take a look at
yourself before talking about users.”

Cato’s face blanches and Nazirah knows
Adamek did not lie to her. “Whatever I’ve done,” he says, “it was
only to get my mind off of you.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“I’ve been there for you through
everything!” he lashes out. “I’ve sacrificed everything … my family
… my home … my life! I would die for you, gladly, a thousand times
over! But you are selfish! You may not want to admit it to
yourself, but your attraction to Morgen is there. Everyone can see
it! You’re playing with fire, Nazirah. And you’re about to get
burned.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Nazirah doesn’t leave her room for three
days. She doesn’t sit on her balcony, doesn’t read. She just
wallows in bed. She tries to resurrect that blissful numbness she
once felt. But it is dead and buried. Solomon brings her tea and
meals. She barely notices.

On that first evening, Solomon gently tells
her Cato has returned to assignment a day early. She sobs into her
pillow. Solomon informs everyone in the riad she’s recovering from
a concussion, and needs several days’ bed rest. Nazirah is
grateful, although entirely certain no one believes him.

Solomon keeps Nazirah abreast of life
outside her door. Adamek’s arm is almost fully healed. Aldrik has
met with the Red Lords. Their alliance with the rebels has been
sealed. Nazirah doesn’t tell Solomon why she and Cato fought. But
he is smart and observant and guesses for himself. He assures
Nazirah that people deal with stress and jealousy differently,
reassures her that Cato will come around eventually. He says that
she has a heart of gold, which Nazirah doesn’t believe or want or
need. What she has is already too heavy.

Nazirah wants no heart at all.

She makes an appearance at breakfast on the
fourth morning, showered for the first time in days. But nothing
can hide the dark circles that rim her eyes or the redness in her
face.

“Look who’s finally decided to grace the
campaign with her presence,” Aldrik snaps, before returning to his
meal.

Nazirah takes her usual seat across from
Adamek, briefly glancing at his healed arm. “I was recovering,” she
mutters.

“You look pretty rough,” Aldrik says.
“That’s for sure.”

Solomon clears his throat loudly. “We are
all very happy to see your healthy return.”

Aldrik ignores Solomon. “We’re leaving
Rubiyat in two days, Nation,” he grunts, “which you would know if
you ever bothered to leave your room. We’re tying up some loose
ends with the Red Lords and then setting out for Shizar.”

“Is that in Zima?” she asks.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “Shizar is in Zima.” He
coughs. “We’re staying with our ally there, Luka. Shizar is Luka’s
Lordship.”

“Lordship?”

“Did you never attend Territory History?”
Aldrik snaps. “Ever? Or is the village idiot act not an act after
all?”

Solomon quickly intervenes. “In Zima, every
Lord presides over a Lordship,” he says. “Think of it as a small,
self-contained city. Zima has the harshest climate in the country.
Lordships are how the citizens survive, in a sort of feudal system.
Shizar is the Lordship farthest North. We are hoping you will be
safest there, since the Medis have the least access to it.”

“Got it.” Nazirah sighs, remembering how
dangerous the rest of campaign will be. Sulking over Cato made
Nazirah temporarily forget how dead the Chancellor wants her.

Solomon suddenly claps his hands. “That
reminds me,” he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I have a
special announcement to make! I was waiting until Miss Nation was
in better spirits to tell the three of you together.”

“Tell us what?” Aldrik asks
suspiciously.

“Tomorrow night,” Solomon says, “the evening
before you depart Rubiyat, I will be throwing a goodbye party here
in your honor.” Solomon sees Aldrik’s startled face, tries to
reassure him. “Do not worry, everything is already planned! I have
only invited a few of our allies, the Red Lords and their families.
It will help us maintain our accord. And, of course, celebrate Mr.
Morgen’s win.”

Aldrik immediately starts arguing with
Solomon, citing the long journey they’ll have the following morning
and the potential threats to security. Solomon will hear none of
it. They begin a heated debate over the breakfast table, which
Nazirah promptly ignores. Under normal circumstances, a party would
be nice. But she is in no mood for celebration.

Nazirah fondly remembers the parties in Rafu
… a few stolen bottles of tequilux, the old boardwalk, dancing on
the beach with only the stars for chaperones. She longs for
something like that again. But thinking of those endless nights,
those sanguine mornings … it hurts too much.

“You look like shit, Nation,” Adamek says
from across the table, grabbing some bread.

“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Nazirah
retorts, unfazed.

“Caal left in quite the rush.”

“I’ll tell him you miss him.”

“What happened?” he asks. “Didn’t feel like
putting out?”

His words are crude, but his tone is
unusually lighthearted. Like he’s saying it just for the sake of
saying it. Like he’s trying for some semblance of normalcy, which
would be the two of them arguing. Nazirah briefly glances at Aldrik
and Solomon, still quarrelling at the head of the table.

“No, he didn’t.”

Nazirah flips his words around in a bored
voice. She casually reaches for some yogurt. Adamek gets a rare
smile on his face, cheeks dimpling. “He doesn’t know what he’s
missing.”

Nazirah thinks she may have been better off
eating in her room after all. She excuses herself from the table,
rising swiftly. Adamek looks at her curiously. “I’m glad you’re
okay,” she says before leaving.

#

Nazirah spends the day in her room, packing
or reading on the balcony. She tries to stay occupied, keep her
thoughts off of Cato. Although Nazirah hates to admit it, he is
right about a lot. She is a tease, even when she doesn’t mean to
be. Nazirah knew how he felt, knew what buttons to press. She led
him on with her silence, and Cato is understandably fed up. Nazirah
knows she has hurt him. But he has hurt her too! His disgusting
words, the things he accused her of! She doesn’t know how they move
forward from here.

The night of the party, Nazirah hears
pounding at her door. Opening it reveals three women wearing
crimson headscarves, clearly Solomon’s servants. Nazirah quickly
jumps aside as they schlep in an assortment of boxes, oils, and
jewels.

“Hello,” the oldest woman, hunched over,
says in a heavy accent. She’s as wide around the middle as she is
tall. “I Padmakali.” She points to a middle-aged woman beside her.
“This my daughter, Padmalaya.” She then points to the youngest,
rail thin girl. “Granddaughter, Padmini.”

“I’m Nazirah,” she says, knowing she will
never remember their names. “Nice to meet you … all.”

“Here.” Padmakali pushes Nazirah towards the
middle of the room.

“What are you doing?” Nazirah asks the
granddaughter.