Nadia
“How did you find out? That I’m a… a freshie?”
“I think I’ve always had a feeling. You were just - different. Different than anyone else I’ve ever met. Before finally being admitted to the Alloy compound, I never saw any province beside the small town I grew up in, deep in the Midlands. But, then again, I hadn’t met many people either. My only friend was Silva. But then I got accepted here, by some miracle. And then… then I met you. And something about you just kept drawing me in. So I did some digging. And by digging I mean I went to Ezra and bribed her for information. I mean I knew she liked pastries and the food hall was giving out sugar cookies and she caved instantly-”
“So, basically what you’re saying is the Edict sold me out for a cookie? And now you know… everything?”
“Um yeah. Also you have a little bit of an accent. It’s - um - cute. But Ezra said that she'd only talk to me because she wants you to trust me.”
I stand still like roadkill, staring dumbfounded at her.
“And you don’t… see me any differently?” I ask, bracing myself for an answer. Aoife only stares back, tilting her head in confusion.
“What? No, why would I?”
“Because of… well, everything?”
“You’re asking me if I think you’re weak for having to go through some kind of terrible childhood? Is that right?”
“Aoife-”
“You fucking idiot.”
She gently moves me aside and fiercely draws a rune on the wall behind me. Before I can protest, she pulls me behind the door she spawned, back into darkness. And then, back into faint light. We’re on a different roof now. A higher roof. And I can see the whole city from here, the way the lights look like stars on the horizon if I squint my eyes. I barely walk through the door before Aoife grips my shoulders tight.
"Nadia, look at me.” I don’t want to, not with my emotions so clear on my sleeve. But I’m weak to her charm, to her promise. And how can I say no to an angel?
So I do.
Her hair whips around in the wind like her white dress billowing around her legs. She looks like the setting sun just behind her. No, she looks brighter. More powerful even.
When she’s looking at me like this… I can’t help but believe her.
“You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. Do you hear me? The strongest! After all that you’ve gone through, the lab and moving to some random alloy colony on a whim, starting from the ground up and becoming a motherfucking council member. And still having space in your heart for compassion… you’re so strong. And nothing will change that truth, nor my perception of it.”
“I did what I had to do to survive,” I say, my voice smaller than I intended. “That’s not strength.” You’re the strong one.
“You’re wrong! Surviving is strength. You could have given up when things got too hard. You could have run off and died or stayed in the shadows for the rest of your life but you survived. And you survived to make a change in this world, didn’t you? To make a difference.”
“But-”
“No! You don’t get to say anything else about this. Because you’re wrong. You’re wrong!”
I’m silent as I soak it in, how passionate Aoife is about convincing me of my own strength. All I can do is laugh. At first, she looks offended, like I’m laughing at her. But I’m not. I don’t know what exactly I’m laughing at, but it’s not her.
And then she cracks and begins laughing too. And maybe I’m just so happy that Aoife didn’t run away. That she found out some truth about me and is still loooking at me like that.
She’s the strong one. She has this uncanny ability of lifting anyone up, making them feel invincible.
“Wait,” I say when we’ve calmed down. “You- did you call me cute earlier?”
She looks at me briefly with wide eyes. Her gaze darts away quickly, focusing on the city lights around us. She drops to a sitting position on the flat roof. I follow soon after.
“Nope,” she says in a rush.
“You liar,” I say, my eyes narrowed in accusation. “You so did.”
“No! You have no proof.”
“Look at you! You’re red as a tomato.”
I expect her to laugh again as I lean in teasingly, but she just goes still. The joking tone between us dissipates. The air becomes thicker, more serious. It feels like the wind has stolen my breath.
“Aoife,” I say, but I find I have nothing to follow it with. All I can do is stare into her deep pools of honeyed green. Drowning.
“Nadia, do you remember that day we first met? We were in the communal dorms, both of us had just been offered acceptance at the Alloy."
"You were wearing bright pink sneakers with those stupid rainbow laces. How could I forget?" I smile at the memory.
"Well I was terrified to speak to you. Did you know that? Absolutely terrified."
"No way. You’re lying to make me feel better."
"I was completely shitting bricks! Because I was terrible at making friends. And suddenly here's this really cool, insanely beautiful girl who's just sitting on the bunk next to me reading… reading the fucking Alloy manifesto. The original one! From 1964!" Aoife laughs. "Do you remember what I said when I finally got the nerve to talk to you?"
“Vaguely. It was something about explosive diarrhea?"
“Yeah,” Aoife grins, snorting with laughter. It's so contagious, I'm in stitches when she opens her mouth again.
"And Silva just stared at me in horror and you looked completely undisturbed. And then I asked if you've ever had explosive diarrhea because I was so terrified. A-And you told me… you said-"
"I told you you should get that checked out," I finish through a chuckle.
"And then you went right back to reading that stupid book!" Aoife cackled. "I swear I had to wring a name out of you."
I remember it. I remember being terrified too. But for a different reason. I remember thinking making friends was a waste of time. How wrong I was.
"You know my old man always used to tell me that I'm the perfect woman until I open my mouth. Mom used to tell me it's a good thing I'm pretty because there's not much going on up here," she says with a sigh, a hint of laughter still in her voice. My smile falls. And I grab her hand before I can issue some kind of self restraint.
"They're wrong," I say sharply. "Y-You're brilliant! You're insanely brilliant. You're smart, not just book smart but people smart, you're stronger than anyone I know, and you're the most talented division leader I've ever met." Aoife looks floored to hear this from me, completely hit from left field. I don't really understand it either, whatever possessed me to say this out loud.
"You're the most gifted fighter we've got. Your beauty, it's just an added bonus."
We're staring at each other, breathless and wild. I really must be possessed because I've lost all control of myself.
"Aoife, can I say something really reckless? And maybe a bit stupid-?"
I never get to finish my sentence. Because Aoife leans over and practically jumps at me, straddling my lap with her knees. It happens so quickly I can’t react.
And suddenly her lips are locked with mine. And she tastes of strawberry and vanilla and sunlight itself and I can't focus on anything else but her. Her hands on my shoulders, her hair tickling my neck, the soft warmth of her lips.
My heart beats fiercely against my chest, stumbling and soaring. I can't breathe but I don't care. Not one bit. I tilt her chin at an angle to deepen the kiss, meeting her with the same level of passion. She doesn't fight me, rather she lets me take control. My hands travel down to her waist, gripping her as close to my body as humanly possible.
Our actions grow desperate, that heat in my stomach growing feverish as she bites down on my lip.
It's better than I ever thought it could be. Better than I've ever dreamed of.
But when she pushes my back toward the flat of the roof, I freeze.
I hate that I froze.
But it was just instinct.
I stop moving, my breath trapped in my chest and hands trembling in fists.
I close my eyes, squeeze them tight as though to prevent any tears from falling through.
But when I open them it's not Newman Howl's predatory smile leering over me. It's Aoife's bright eyes, laced in deep concern, almost in tears.
"-ia? Nadia?" Her voice finally shot through me like the snap of a rubber band. I look at myself reflected in her eyes, the terror in my posture, how still I am.
"I-I'm sorry," I choke through a gasp. "I'm so sorry."
I can't trust my voice to say anything else. I only slip out from under Aoife, draw the rune sloppily on the door, and run.
I hate weakness.
My weakness.
***
I've spent the last two months in a state of numbness. I move like a robot, like an empty husk. I've been avoiding Aoife entirely, unable to face her after my display of cowardice. It haunts me even now.
I know she's going to tell me she made a mistake. I know she's going to tell me she regrets it. That's why I've been avoiding her in training, in the food hall, not responding to any of her letters under my door.
"Something you'd like to share, councilwoman?"
I straighten, shaking the clouds from my head.
"No sir."
"Then I expect your full attention," Howl says with a look. Fucker.
"Yeah, councilwoman," Harths says with a sneer. Like always, I ignore him.
"My apologies, Council Leader."
"If you think this kind of work is beneath you, you're free to leave."
"No sir."
"Then get your goddamn head out of the clouds and someone tell me why our workers are rioting!" Newman bellows. I'm silent, biting back a sneer. Our crops are dying in our colonies because our farmers aren't getting the resources or funding they need to sustain them. And a food shortage means angry people, desperate people. It means workers on strike, riots in the streets.
"The workers don't have the money to keep working at this rate. We're killing our colonies," I say, a muscle in my jaw jumping. Howls looks at me with something like murderous intent.
"I've given them plenty! More than enough! The more you give them, the more they'll ask for. They're leeches!"
"You're giving them nothing! They're only on strike because the wages they are making are unlivable, considering how precious their work is to our land."
"So you're saying we should give them even more? Do you hear yourself, councilwoman? It is poor decisions like these that will prevent you from ever becoming a council leader!"
No. It's the glass ceiling between us.
“You know, Howls,” Lysander says with his chin resting on his palm, his dark eyes trained on me as he speaks. “We see eye to eye on quite a few matters. But this… I don’t understand why you would jeopardize so much because of a woman. Why you’re so patient with her. Sure, she’s pretty. But just how far will pretty get you? There’s a clause in the original manifesto, the one written by Muller. Clause 43, you know it?”
My blood begins to boil but I hold my breath. I can’t lose control now, not now. I’ll only prove his point.
“Nadia knows it, from the look on her face. Tell the council what you know.”
“I’d prefer we act like adults and deal with the matter at hand, Lysander,” I say, fighting to keep the snarl out of my voice.
“Oh we will. After this. Come on, everyone’s waiting.”
I look around the room, strangled for air when I realize he’s right. Everyone is quiet, looking at me in question. Even Howls. Especially Howls.
Of course I know what clause he’s referring to. But I won’t stoop to his level.
“What’s this? You don’t know? That’s ok, it’s heavy reading. I’ll tell the council instead. Clause 43 section two states that women and immigrants, by law, are forbidden to have a seat at the council. And now I'm beginning to understand why.”
“It’s an old law. It’s been rewritten,” I shoot back. But heat presses sharply against my eyelids, against my cheeks and ears. It takes everything in me to swallow my tears.
“Mistakes happen. They can be fixed.”
I look from Lysander to Newman, stupefied. “You can’t do that. You can’t-”
“Keep acting up and I just might agree with Councilman Harris,” Newman says, folding his hands in front of him. He doesn’t even have the balls to look me in the eye as he threatens me. I sit in silence for the remainder of the meeting. Not out of conformity, but out of sheer rage.
I run straight to the training room when dismissed, still dressed in my work clothes. I’m not too sure why, I just run without thinking. I tear the blazer off as I push my way through the door and kick off my heels. It’s empty.
So I scream. I scream loud and hard and I scream and scream and scream, battering my fists against the muscles on my thighs as I fall to my knees on the mats.
I want nothing more than to grow roots right here and let the ground pull me under. It would be so easy to just give up now. So easy.
The only thing driving me now is hatred and anger. And what happens once those, too, are spent? Did I dream too big? Did I bite off more than I can chew?
What if they’re right? What if I’m not made for this?
Was all my suffering for nothing? Was my determination not enough? Will it never be?
My heavy head drops to the cushioned ground, pulling my hair from their curls to fan around me like a halo. The rest of me follows and I roll over to my side. I’m tired. Tired of everything. Tired of myself.
The space between the mats near my face begins to bubble before my eyes. I blink. A sapling pushes up from the cushions, uncurling itself into a beautiful red spider lily. My eyes travel up toward the door, knowing only one person who could be responsible for such a thing.
I stare right through her as she walks. I’m numb when she crouches down in front of me. It’s only when she’s close enough to see the specks of gold in her green eyes that I speak.
“I’m sorry, Aoife.” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say. She wraps herself around me. And she sobs. Each tear she sheds feels like a tear of my own, a tear I cannot cry.
“I know what he’s done to you,” she says, her words sounding strangled. Her grip on me tightens. “Never. Never apologize to me about that ever again.”
“You deserve an apology.”
“No. But you do. And, for every terrible thing that’s happened to you, I’m sorry Nadia. I’m so sorry.”
“About these past few months-” I try to say. It feels like all the energy’s been sucked from my body.
“Shh. Don’t. You don’t have to explain,” she whispers back. I feel myself deflate in relief.
“Aoife?” I murmur, feeling my eyes flutter shut from exhaustion.
“Yes, my love?”
“Will you stay here with me? Just while I close my eyes? I’m so tired.”
“Of course. Anything for you. Anything at all.”
I sigh happily as she combs the hair out of my face. How silly I was to ever mistake her touch for Newman’s. She’s so delicate. So tender and graceful and loving.
“I’ll steal the stars from the sky for you.”
***
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