Something like acid sweeps up my stomach and throat. How many years did I loyally work for the military? How many years did we all? Yet they forced us to go to “peace negotiations” with the rebels, something we all knew was a trap, then branded us traitors when we barely made it back alive from said trap. I’d always known they were less than perfect, especially in regard to their treatment of Nytes. But I never thought they were so openly despicable. Backstabbing, lying, manipulative—
It takes several heartbeats for my anger to run its course and fade to the background. By that time, I’ve made it to the café where Lai and Seung are meeting. It’s on the sixth floor of a skyscraper housing various shops, and because I want to minimize my chances of being seen and recognized, I take the stairs rather than the elevator.
The café is surprisingly large, tucked into a corner between a clothing shop and a stationery store. Gray stone tables of an intricate design that I’m certain Erik would appreciate line the floor in neat rows. A counter to the far side sits underneath a large menu board displaying various coffees, teas, and alcohols. The barista looks up expectantly as I walk in. I hesitate before stepping up to order a black coffee. It would be rude to come and take up space without purchasing anything.
We’re lucky Lai and Erik both stored their salaries outside of our military-issued bank accounts. Lai because she didn’t want her transactions with the Order to be tracked, and Erik because he trusts no one. Thanks to that, we’re not without funds now.
The barista hands me my coffee with no more suspicion than any other teenager might warrant. The loose, light civilian clothes I’ve been wearing the past few days still feel like a stranger’s skin, but they’ve camouflaged me well. I thank him before heading to a table in the back corner, where Lai and Seung sit with papers splayed between them.
Seung’s head snaps up at my approach, sending her short, dark hair flying, but Lai waves away her concern without looking up, and it doesn’t take long for Seung to recognize me. She, Syon, and the Wood twins, Peter and Paul, all joined us when we headed out to meet the rebel leaders. They wanted to protect Lai even though she insisted they stay in Sector Eight. It’s probably only because of them that we all managed to get out alive. Well. Almost all of us.
My stomach wrenches at the memory of Lai grieving over Paul’s body.
My mug clatters against the stone tabletop. “I hope you’re well, Seung.”
“As well as could be expected,” Seung says. It’s my first time seeing her out of combat gear. A white blouse with long, loose sleeves covers her golden-brown skin. A necklace with power crystals strung around it, not unlike the one Lai always wears, circles her neck. Her light brown eyes follow me as I seat myself at their table.
Lai still hasn’t looked up. Her fingers trace a line on one of the documents Seung must have brought. I can see the gears turning behind her dark blue eyes. Her pale skin looks paler than usual with the dark jacket she’s wearing. She absently tucks a long strand of brown hair behind her ear, and I notice the pair of red-framed glasses she’s wearing. I’ve never seen her wear glasses before. The lenses are obviously fake—or perhaps it’s only obvious to me as someone who wears prescription glasses—but she looks cute in them. I resist the urge to pull them off and kiss her.
I wait until Lai is ready to speak. Once she’s finished her mental calculations, she jots down a note on the paper and turns to me with a smile. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”
“I could say the same of you,” I say. I glance at Seung, who’s as skilled at murderous glares as Johann—though there’s something about Seung’s that is more subtle and refined. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“If you were, I would’ve asked you not to come when I heard your thoughts headed our way,” Lai says.
“If you knew he was coming, you could’ve mentioned it,” Seung says. She folds her hands together on the table.
“Don’t mind Fiona, she’s always looking for an excuse to be grumpy,” Lai fake-whispers to me loudly enough for Seung to hear.
Seung rolls her eyes. “In any case, we were just finishing up. I need to get back to Regail Hall. Ever since the rebels declared war, we’ve had more than enough work on our hands.” Sharp white guilt cuts through Lai’s presence. “I look forward to you rejoining us soon.”
Lai murmurs agreement.
Seung gathers all the papers on the table and slips them into her bag. She stands, and with a nod to each of us, she leaves the café without another word. It feels much emptier with her gone.
I turn my attention back to Lai, but she’s frowning out the window, looking down over the twisting streets below that are only now beginning to fill.
I reach over to push her glasses up her nose. “These are new.”
She blinks and laughs as she pulls my hand from her face. She doesn’t let go of it. “It’s part of the disguise. Like it?”
The disguise in question consists of a black jacket that looks chosen more for style than function—something I’ve never seen Lai wear—a scarlet blouse, and a high-waisted black skirt. Her hair is down, yet another rarity, and bits of it are tied into braids that pull around to the back of her head. Her usual cord of power crystals hangs around her neck, but a bracelet dangles from her wrist where I’m used to seeing her MMA, a high-functioning, military-issued “watch” used for communicating, tracking, signaling, and other tasks. And of course the fake glasses.
“People are less likely to suspect a fashionably dressed young girl of being an ex-soldier,” Lai says with a wink. “It doesn’t really fit the image, you know? Besides, it’s fun to dress like this when I can.” She stretches her arms out in front of her with a yawn and tips her coffee mug to see if there’s anything left inside.
“You look pretty,” I say, because it’s what I think and I don’t know what else to say. Trust Lai to have a double motive even for getting dressed.
She laughs and turns her empty mug around. “Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
It takes a heartbeat for me to register the pink of her presence and yet another to realize there’s a reason she isn’t looking at me directly. I smile and take her mug. “I’ll get you a refill.”
“Oh—thank you. Um, it’s the house blend with milk and three packs of sugar.”
“Three? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”
“I need something to make me happy in this world.”
I laugh and yellow pleasure fills her presence.
By the time I return with her refill, Lai’s focus has drifted off again. I set the coffee in front of her. She flashes me a grateful smile as her fingers wrap around the mug.
“What news did Seung have?” I ask.
“The Order is restless,” Lai says. “Many members want us to enter the war ourselves, fight the rebels. Especially with Paul’s death at their hands.” Her eyes drop momentarily, but before I can attempt to offer any words of comfort, she says, “The idea’s ridiculous. The Order is a peace organization. We never intended to do any kind of fighting other than self-defense—we’re not even equipped for it. We’d be wiped off the map. And just how are we supposed to spread the message of peace if we put ourselves in the middle of a war? Yet Fiona and a lot of the others are pushing for it.” Her frown deepens as she takes a sip of her coffee.