Chapter Four

When Maricela needed to have difficult conversations, she planned them out in her head.

It wasn’t a perfect strategy. She couldn’t account for how another person would react or what they would say, but it helped her feel more confident, more in control. She could center herself by imagining where she would first broach the subject, whether she would sit or stand. How she would start.

So it was just as well that Avery rode with them back to the palace, because Maricela needed to have a difficult conversation with Ivan, and she wasn’t ready for it, not at all. Instead, she made small talk with her friend, watched the back of Ivan’s head as he drove, and tried to make her plans.

It didn’t work. By the time they reached their destination, she was no closer to knowing what to say to him than when she’d begun. Not that it mattered, after all, because cars lined the drive circling the fountain in front of the house.

She’d completely forgotten about their family dinner.

“Maricela!” Mad was there, beaming at her, by the time Ivan opened her door. Her cousin pulled her out of the car and into an enthusiastic hug that lifted her feet from the ground. “I thought you’d abandoned us.”

“Never,” she vowed. Jyoti had come out behind him, and Maricela hugged her next. “You brought Dylan and Scarlet, I hope?”

“Of course.” Jyoti kissed her cheek and then laughed. “Your sister’s children are fighting over who gets to talk to him first. Uncle Dylan is very popular.”

“Isabela’s already here, then?”

“The whole caravan pulled in just after we did,” Mad told her as Jyoti turned to greet Avery. “Ashwin and Kora are here, too. We might actually fill the table tonight.”

Ivan hovered behind them. She’d spent weeks growing more aware of him by the day, and that moment in the temple had only heightened the feeling. If she closed her eyes now and concentrated, Maricela thought she might be able to determine the distance between them precisely, down to fractions of an inch.

She shoved away the fanciful thought and turned to him. “Will you be joining us?”

Ivan shook his head. “I’m going to eat at the barracks and catch up on some things. I’ll be back before you go to sleep.”

He said it like he expected her to argue. He probably did. “Say hi to Ana for me.”

“I will.” After another hesitation he extended his hand to Mad. “Good to see you, Mad.”

“You too, Ivan.” After clasping hands, Mad pulled the other man into a back-pounding hug. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Of course.”

Ivan flashed her one last, strangely blank look, then turned toward the path down to the barracks. Maricela only realized she was staring after him when Avery took her arm and gently steered her toward the front door.

The not-so-low hum of noise hit her as soon as she walked in, and it only grew louder and more boisterous as she neared the dining room. Isabela’s family had already taken over one end of the table, with Isabela at the end and her spouses interspersed around the older children. Dylan sat next to them, the baby on his lap, her chubby little fingers tangled in his beard.

Scarlet sat across from him, laughing, and Maricela slipped into the seat beside her. “Sorry I’m late.”

Kora looked up from her futile attempt to lure the tiniest Rios away from Dylan with a breadstick. “You brought Avery, so all is forgiven.”

At the opposite end of the table from Isabela, Gideon smiled at Maricela before inclining his head toward Avery. “Welcome, Avery. Sit wherever you can find a chair.”

“Sit by me,” Jyoti urged her as she slid into the seat at Gideon’s left hand. “We can catch up as soon as Gideon and I are done talking business.”

Maricela opened her napkin with a snap. “Business? At family dinner?”

Jyoti smiled as she lifted a water goblet. “Running this part of the sectors is the family business. But I just wanted to hammer out the arrangements for the shipping containers we’re giving you. I’m so excited about your project, Maricela.”

“So am I.” It had started as a way to do something, if only to assuage her conscience over the huge divide between her privileged existence and the struggles of the refugees. But it was turning into something that might really make a difference. A sustainable community. “Ivan has been helping a great deal.”

“Ivan’s a good resource,” Mad said from his seat across from Jyoti. “He’s handy, you know. He and Deacon have built half the new houses the guards live in. He even built some of the furniture in the barracks.”

“Right.” She’d been thinking more of his insights. His personal history made him uniquely aware of the challenges faced by the displaced and homeless--but he’d told her that in strict confidence, and she’d eat her silverware before she betrayed that. “I like him. He’s not stuffy and glowering all the time. Ninety percent, tops.”

“Ivan’s a good soldier,” Ashwin said abruptly. “He’s not glowering. He’s prepared.”

Maricela hid a smile behind her water goblet. “Oh, I think he’s both.”

“Maybe a little.” Mad winked at her. “So what else have you been up to, when you haven’t been single-handedly solving the refugee crisis?”

A blush heated her cheeks. “Don’t tease, Adrian. I wish I could say I’d done that, but I haven’t.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he chided her. “You saw an opportunity where most people saw empty, rusting metal. Be proud of that.”

She’d seen desperation, a need that made her heartsick to consider. And that feeling had grown worse now that she knew about Ivan’s history. “I just want to have all the plans in place before the Reyes house party so work can begin.” She tilted her head and batted her eyes at her cousin. “You are coming to the party, aren’t you?”

Scarlet choked on her wine.

“Not for anything,” Mad told her cheerfully. “And don’t bat those big eyes at me. If Jyoti couldn’t sweet-talk me into taking her so she can work on trade deals, no one is getting me there.”

“Now, Mad.” Gideon sighed and shook his head. “This will be Kora’s first house party, and you’re making it sound terrible.”

“It’s only terrible if you don’t like stuffy rich people smiling stiffly at one another while they negotiate how many of their relatives they can marry off.”

“Adrian.” Isabela’s stern voice carried down the table, over the babble of young voices. “You’re speaking of my children’s aunts and uncles.”

He raised both hands and relented. “I know, I know. I’m just surly. Kora, you’re going to have a great time. Have you ever ridden a horse before? The Reyes family has the best horses in the sectors, and they love to go riding during the parties.”

Kora’s clear laugh rang out like a bell as she turned to Ashwin. “How adorable. He thinks you’re going to let me anywhere near a horse right now.”

A muscle in Ashwin’s cheek jumped, and Maricela could almost hear the internal struggle between his desire to find a way to let Kora ride a horse if she wanted and his increasingly intense need to protect her as her pregnancy progressed. “Horses involve...too many variables,” he said finally. “There’s no way to manage the risks.”

No wonder Ashwin and Ivan got along splendidly. They sounded just alike. “I won’t be riding any horses, either,” Maricela told them. “If Adrian isn’t going, then I’m only going for the ball.”

“Oh no, you’re not.” Gideon leaned back in his chair, his water goblet dangling from one hand. “If I’m stuck there the whole week, so are you.”

The thought of it was enough to make her stomach clench. An entire week of being someone else’s guest meant being on her unrelentingly best behavior. And while the festivities usually more than made up for the emotional toll, this time would be different. This time, she’d have suitors dogging her every step. And after that breathless moment of connection with Ivan at the temple, that was the last thing she wanted him to see.

She tried again. “Half the week?”

Sympathy filled his eyes, and she could tell he was hovering on the edge of compromise.

Apparently, so could Isabela. “Maricela. In this family, we enjoy privilege and luxury beyond the telling of it, with so few duties asked of us in return. Don’t be stubborn about this one. No one’s forcing you into a betrothal. But acting like it’s beneath you to meet with suitors who only want to impress you is unkind.”

Mad’s eyebrows drew together. “Isabela--”

“It’s fine,” Maricela cut in. She gripped her hands into fists in her lap to still their trembling and addressed her oldest sister. “It isn’t that the attention is beneath me. It’s just that it’s unwanted.”

Her sister’s expression softened somewhat. “Surely they’re not all so bad. And if any bother you too much, you can have Ivan scare them off.”

Perfect. Maricela fell silent, picking at her food until another snatch of conversation caught her attention.

“You and Kora should definitely come visit, now that the chaos from the big reopening is past,” Mad was saying as he heaped a second serving of rice onto his plate. “I know Cruz would love to see you. And the twins are growing like weeds. Isaac has the cute baby babble going nonstop. Probably Ace’s influence.”

“How old are they now?” she asked wistfully. Maricela missed the days when the palace had been overrun with Isabela’s babies. Only a few were still toddling around now, and there always seemed to be someone else commanding their attention.

“Just about three months.” Mad leaned back in his seat, and Maricela caught him sneaking a look down the table at Dylan, who had charmed Isabela’s youngest into falling asleep on his shoulder. “It’s a cute age.”

He was making googly eyes at Dylan--but then again, so were Jyoti and Scarlet. The minute Dylan started being parental with one of the little ones, his three lovers lost their minds. If Mad didn’t deserve this kind of happiness so much, it would have been vaguely disgusting.

Gideon’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Maricela, pass me the stuffed peppers.”

The dish was closer to Avery, who wordlessly picked it up and handed it to Jyoti, who passed it to Gideon. He murmured his thanks and transferred two to his plate before glancing at Avery. “I’m glad you joined us tonight. We’ve missed having you around.”

“I’ll be staying,” she told him quietly.

Gideon froze for one moment, his fork halfway to his mouth, surprise obvious in his brown eyes. But he recovered quickly, setting his fork down and gesturing to one of the guards standing against the far wall. “Ronan, will you ask the housekeeper to prepare Avery’s room? Thank you.”

It was a strangely charged moment, and Scarlet stepped into it boldly. “Maybe we should go to this party, Mad. It sounds like fun.”

He shot her a dark look. “Traitor.”

The chatter continued as Maricela focused on her meal. After a few carefully measured deep breaths, the knot in her stomach uncoiled enough for her to be able to eat.

It didn’t matter if the party was fun or not. She’d go because she had to, and because it was the closest thing she had to a job. She only hoped that it wouldn’t be too awkward, dealing with an endless stream of suitors with Ivan at her side.

»»» § «««

As honored as Ivan was to have been entrusted with Maricela’s safety, a small, traitorous part of him missed being in the Riders’ barracks.

There was an indescribable sense of belonging that washed over him every time he stepped into the common room. It didn’t matter that, more evenings than not, he sat quietly in the corner with his guns or his knives or a book on tactics. The other Riders accepted his rare contributions to the conversation, and they accepted his silences.

They never asked him to be anyone he wasn’t. They just gave every indication of liking who he was.

Dinner was fancy tonight--maybe even fancier than what he would have gotten staying at the palace. Gideon preferred simpler fare in his home, but the girls training under Del were being prepared to host great banquets and elegant dinner parties.

Hunter’s cousin must have been in charge of the kitchen this time. Ivan didn’t even know what to call half of the things she cooked, they were so fucking fancy, but they always tasted delicious.

The bowl in his hand was no exception. Tangy radishes covered creamy rice, and both were topped with some sort of spicy fried shrimp. Every bite was an explosion of flavor, but it was the shrimp Ivan couldn’t get over.

The seafood in his bowl could have paid for a tenement apartment for a month. Maybe two, if it wasn’t one of the nice ones. The Petrov family had made a name for themselves in recent years by specializing in aquaponic farming. Their massive greenhouses turned out blueberries in the middle of winter, and fish that tasted better than anything you could get from the river or reservoir.

But their real money came from the novelty items. Lobster. Tropical fruit.

Shrimp.

No doubt they’d tithed a certain portion to the Rios family, who had blithely allowed one of the temple acolytes to practice her skills with them, because why wouldn’t they? There was always more.

But even when the people around Ivan seemed oblivious to this kind of bounty, it never shook his sense of belonging. Because Ana was across the room, savoring each bite of shrimp like a tiny miracle. And Zeke had poked dubiously at one with a fork before eating around it, clearly unconvinced.

Some of the Riders had come from luxury, some from squalor. But it never seemed to matter when they sat back in the common room together.

They were different. They were still family.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Reyes was stretched out on the couch, glaring at the ceiling, his empty bowl resting on his stomach. “If I wanted to go to my family’s fucking parties, I would have married Maricela and gone to their fucking parties.”

Sometimes, they were closer than actual family.

Deacon growled low in the back of his throat. “Gideon feels--and I agree--that this is our best opportunity to gather intel on who might have hired the Suicide Kings to get rid of us. Everyone who stood to gain anything with that stunt will be there. For that reason alone, so will we.” He looked around. “Anyone else need it explained to them in small, easily understood words?”

“I only have one question.” Ana popped another shrimp into her mouth with a pleased hum and grinned at Deacon. “Do I get to wear a fancy dress?”

“I don’t give a damn if we’re all in fancy dresses, so long as we’re there--and ready to work.”

“I’d look amazing in a fancy dress,” Zeke announced as he transferred his shrimp to Ana’s bowl. “Who’s going to take me shopping for one?”

“You think you’re joking,” Gabe said. “But this will probably go more smoothly if you’re dressed less...”

He trailed off, his gaze taking in Zeke’s ripped jeans and pre-Flare T-shirt emblazoned with the fading logo of some obscure video game. A Rider would always stand out in a crowd because of their tattoos and their calling, but there was standing out, and then there was showing up at a fancy event dressed like a street kid straight out of Eden.

“Cool,” Zeke supplied. “You were going to say I look cool, I’m sure.”

Laurel didn’t look up from the magazine she was browsing. “My money’s on, ‘less like you just pawed your way through a city sewer grate.’”

“Takes one to know one, baby.”

Laurel arched one eyebrow. “So is this a bad time to tell you I’m wearing your girlfriend to the party?”

“Which one?” Zeke rested his chin in his palm and studied her. “Lusira would look cute on you.”

“Only in your wildest dreams, son.”

“Stop bantering.” Reyes sat up with a grumble. “This is no time for banter. This is a serious goddamn situation.”

Apparently. Ivan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a situation so dire that Reyes wouldn’t crack a joke. “Most of us have never been invited to one of these fancy noble parties,” he pointed out as he set his bowl back on the table. “Maybe you should explain it to us.”

“What, the dog-and-pony show? It’s wall-to-wall insufferable rich people.” Reyes finally grinned, an expression devoid of mirth. “You’re gonna hate it.”

“Fernando--” Hunter began.

Reyes cut in with a snarl. “Call me that again and I’ll stab you with my fork.”

Fernando was a common name in Sector One. Dozens of boys were born every month and given some variation of the Prophet’s name, just as Gabe had been named after the Prophet’s son, and Ana was named for his daughter. Ivan had never wanted to ask if Reyes’s rejection of the name was tied to his clear discomfort with his family, or if the aversion went deeper.

Asking people about an aversion to the Prophet danced perilously close to blasphemy.

Gabe stepped into the awkward silence, his expression serious. “There’s one party per season. The Reyes family always hosts the summer solstice party. My family hosts the winter one. You know about the Rios’ spring festival, and then Hunter’s family holds the harvest celebration. And it’s not just the central families--everyone goes. All the cousins, all the cadet branches...”

“Yeah, basically every person who makes important decisions for the sector spends a week crammed into one central, easily bombable location.” Zeke made a rude noise. “Has anyone explained this to Ashwin yet? Because he’s gonna spank our asses, and not in the fun way.”

Ivan would be shocked if Ashwin hadn’t arrived having memorized a list of every important social event and cultural quirk unique to Sector One, but pointing that out would only activate Zeke’s paranoia again.

Reyes rose and dropped his bowl to the table with a clatter. “Ostensibly, it’s a chance for the noble families to show their appreciation for the bounties of the seasons. Just like the street festivals.”

The street festivals had been one of the lone bright spots in Ivan’s memories of growing up. Entertainers crowded every corner, showing their skills by juggling improbable things and exhibiting feats of dexterity and strength that had awed him. And most of the vendors had sympathetic hearts and baskets full of broken cookies or imperfect meat pies that could find their way into a hungry young boy’s pockets, even if he didn’t have the coin to pay.

Somehow, he doubted the noble parties would share that innocent, sweet purity.

Hunter rubbed his chin. “So we’re attending as Riders. Will we be providing extra security or investigating?”

“Both. Except for you two.” Deacon pointed at Ivan and Bishop. “Your orders haven’t changed.”

Ivan flexed his fingers. “I stick with Maricela?”

Deacon nodded. “Same as here.”

Except it wouldn’t be the same at all. He’d be in an unfamiliar location where he couldn’t control any of the variables. And he’d have to maneuver a political minefield with nuances he wasn’t remotely equipped to understand.

It would be smarter to assign her protection to Gabe or Hunter. Even Reyes, for all his grumpy reluctance. They knew the terrain. They knew the potential threats. They’d be able to navigate the turbulent political waters.

But people would notice them. Nobles would notice them. And if Ivan had always been good at one thing, it was fading into the background. That could give him the edge he needed.

It was a pretty excuse, anyway. Ivan didn’t know how he’d sleep at night knowing that someone else was responsible for Maricela’s safety. He trusted all the Riders with his life.

The only person he trusted with Maricela’s was himself. “All right.”

“I know this isn’t what we usually do.” Deacon shot Reyes a pointed look that silenced his grumbling. “But it’s important. Not just for Gideon and his family, but for us, too.”

Bishop aside pushed his empty bowl and leaned against the table. “Instead of whining about it, Reyes, make yourself useful. Ivan and I need to know how to plan for security in your family’s house.”

Reyes pulled a battered notebook from his back pocket and slapped it down in front of Bishop. “I made some notes already. Didn’t realize I’d be going with you bozos.”

Hunter grinned and ruffled Reyes’s hair. “We love you, too.”

Ivan reached for the notebook as they traded more banter back and forth, letting the teasing jokes and the affectionate insults form a soothing, familiar babble as he flipped open the notebook and studied the pages.

The Reyes estate was huge. Massive. Page after page detailed multiple wings, floors, inner courtyards, and hidden nooks. Outbuildings and guest suites. Servants’ quarters and secret hallways. Reyes had broken it all down in neat, organized sketches and lists highlighting potential danger and routes of escape. There were plenty of the latter--but far, far too many of the former.

The man liked to bitch and moan and spend way too much time talking about what he did with his dick, but when it came time to get a job done, Reyes was meticulous, thorough, and deadly.

Hopefully, it would all be unnecessary. If Gideon truly thought there was any danger to Maricela at this gathering, she wouldn’t be attending. But it was Ivan’s job to consider every scenario.

And if a threat did arise, he’d take care of it. By any means necessary.