Remy
I was more nervous about dinner with the Senator than I’d ever been for a date. And I’d been on a lot of dates. Not that this was a date. It was decidedly not a date, not even close.
But it felt weirdly like a date.
I didn’t need Linette to tell me that Senator Navis was seeking my approval for his grand scheme of things. I knew he wanted to explain his master plan and win me over. He wanted me to be his human cheerleader as he tore our values and foundations out from under us. I knew I had to do my best to act as if his madman rantings were logical and appreciated. I had to. Being a Baelese sympathizer was the only thing that got me into Primo Town. There was no going back now.
My heart was in my throat when I concluded my lesson and was met by a guard at my desk.
“Follow me.”
I obeyed, slinging my teaching bag over my shoulder. He stopped at a restroom and pointed at the door.
“Wash up.”
“Yes, thank you.” I shook all over as I went in and did all my business, washing my hands and letting down my hair. I ran my fingers through the loose curls, which were longer than I’d ever let them grow before. Looking in the mirror was strange, and it made me realize I didn’t miss seeing my reflection. As I stood there, I wanted to examine every crevice of my face, and put some makeup on that bruise. Also, I looked freaking ridiculous in this dress. Like some Swiss Alps girl with huge boobs.
I sighed and exited the restroom, following the guard down a wing I hadn’t been in before. This hall felt stiffer and more secluded. I was led into a grand, plush library with an ornate table and chairs in the middle. They’d been set with fancy china and silverware. It made me miss my little black dress and heels from a former life.
The Senator stood when I entered. He was business casual, as usual. Slacks and shirt neatly pressed, but rolled to his elbows, tie loose, lock of hair across his brow. It was strange knowing that if I brushed that lock aside, it would stay there. So he’d chosen this easy, boyish look on purpose.
“You may leave us,” he told the guard.
“I will be outside of the doors if you need me, Bahntan.”
The Senator nodded. When the door clicked shut, a warm chill brushed over me, raising goose flesh. We were alone.
“Please,” he said, pulling out my chair. “Relax.”
I sat, pretending to admire the shelves of books, but really taking stealthy glances in all the corners for cameras, seeing none. Was it possible that we were truly alone and not being watched? The thought was thrilling, yet terrifying.
“This is an honor, sir. Thank you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said. “Let me serve you.”
I felt flushed as he walked over to a cart and pushed it over. He raised the lids off steaming plates of food, making my mouth water, and he poured wine. I really did not need to drink that. Alcohol plus Remy equaled danger.
As he sat and we both placed napkins on our laps, I had an emotional flashback to Sunday dinners with my parents. The old habit rose up and I bowed my head to pray, closing my eyes. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I yanked my head up to find him watching. I nervously pushed curls behind my ears.
“Your father was a pastor, correct?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat and reached for the ice water. “Habit.”
“You still pray?” he asked.
I did, but I wasn’t sure if I should admit that. Still, as I sipped my water I found myself shrugging, then nodding.
“Religion is a fascinating concept,” he said. “How people’s passionate beliefs, often about similar things, just with different names, can drive such a fervent wedge between cultures.”
True. Sadly.
I followed his lead as he picked up his fork and knife and began to cut into the most perfectly cooked filet of beef I’d ever seen.
Eat slow. Small bites.
We dined. And for approximately ten minutes I felt quasi normal. Maybe even a little pretty.
“Senator, are the meals like this on Bael?”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I wouldn’t know. I was born on Earth.”
Duh. I knew that. “Do you have pictures of Bael? Or stories that have been passed down?”
“Nothing. Our people are not sentimental about things that are lost. We retain pertinent information only, and focus on the future.”
“Oh.” So different. Was nothing sacred to them? I took another small bite.
“We maintain the memory of certain historical facts, only for the purpose of not allowing those events and circumstances to be repeated. On Bael, we once had an ancient text very much like your Bible. It spoke of one creator.”
“Really?” I brought my utensils down and watched as he took another delicate bite and chewed.
“And much like yours, its vagueness led to different interpretations, which led to war after war. We were very much like humans at one time in our history. Divided by many issues. Multicultural. Over two thousand years ago our planet had The Last War, and new rules were implemented. Religious doctrines were eliminated. Monogamy abolished. New laws were enacted to make sexual contact illegal outside of mating time. And the government chose who mated. Within four generations our people were one race with one language.”
My bites of steak soured in my belly and I looked down at the blood that seeped into my potatoes. I forced a look of interest.
“It seems to work well for you.”
“It does.” He leaned forward on his arms, as if to garner every bit of my attention. “And it will work for humans, too, Ms. Haines. I know it. Future generations will not know how things once were. They will not know their people once had the freedom to do horrible, hurtful things to themselves and one another. To eat unhealthy and be lazy. They will not crave what they do not know. We can achieve what the best of humans have always wished for. Peace. I believe it with all my might that humanity can be better, stronger, more fulfilled.”
“I know you do,” I whispered. I forced more words. “And it’s a beautiful dream.”
“But do you believe it, Ms. Haines?”
No. I would tell him what I said before. “I know humans can adapt to anything.” But at the end of they day, we’d be zombies with no emotion, just like them.
He sat back in his chair now, studying me. I watched, my pulse quickening, as he slowly unknotted his tie and pulled it off. I imagined him unbuttoning his shirt. My mouth went completely dry until he stopped and tossed his tie to a nearby chair.
“I’ve spent my entire life studying humans. Learning to interpret their every move, what they say, what they don’t say.”
Dear God. I looked away and took a drink of ice water. I should’ve probably poured it over my head.
“Human women are so very different from Baelese women.”
Truth. I let out a dry laugh. “If only I could be so strong.”
“You do not find yourself to be strong?”
I thought of Vahni’s sharp mouth, and how she was willing to boss around her leader. And that Rambo exercise teacher. “I’ve always thought of compassion as my strength, but . . .” They saw it as a weakness. I guess some humans did too.
“Ah, Ms. Haines, you have brought up the primary difference in our cultures. My people find compassion to be a useless trait, but it is the one thing I have clung to in my time with humans. The one thing I will miss if it goes extinct.”
I had no idea how to respond to that, but it made my heart flutter.
He went on. “The Baelese are like individual islands. Even when we are near, we are alone, separated. Humans, they cannot help but build bridges to one another. It is my secret hope that even when your people are one race, truly united, that their compassion will remain.”
Damn him. He had sympathies for humans. He admired us. But those feelings were not enough to stop his ultimate plan to change us. My eyes watered, and I forced a smile as I nodded. He sipped his wine and motioned for me to do the same.
Screw it.
I picked up my glass and took a drink. The delicate pungency made my mouth pucker for a moment. We both sipped, lost in quiet thought. Next thing I knew, my glass was empty and his was still half full. How human of me. I knew I should feel afraid or embarrassed at my lack of self-control, but with my lowered tolerance, the wine hit me full blast, making me buoyant.
He made no comment about my tacky wine chugging. Instead, he made a statement that felt like a smack.
“You take meals with the two humans you were imprisoned with.”
My mouth hung open for a full second. “Uh, yes. Another habit, I guess. Just having them near.”
“The male. Jacob Tate? What is your relationship?”
If I had another glass of wine I would glug that sucker right now.
“He was my friend’s brother.”
“So, the two of you have a history?” He sipped his wine again.
“No,” I assured him. “He was older, so I didn’t see him much. And when I did, we fought a lot. Our personalities are very different.”
“Opposites attract. Isn’t that what humans say?” His eyes were watchful, but his demeanor was still calm.
“Opposites make for annoyance,” I told him, though when I thought of Tater these days, I felt warm concern, not annoyance at all.
He made a temple of his fingers. “The three of you are the only people in Primo Town who know each other from before. We were careful about this factor.”
Blood drained from my face, chilling me. I clasped my hands in my lap. “I can understand why. But when it comes to the three of us, we don’t talk or anything. I hope you’re not worried. We were stuck in that prison together, betrayed by other humans. I’m sure they feel the same as I do—grateful to be given a second chance—and willing to do whatever you need.”
My heart banged until he gave me a slow nod, as if I’d passed a test.
“Would you tell me if anything were awry in the Town?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Have you heard of any misconduct?”
I shook my head, glad to be sitting because I might’ve passed out otherwise. “No, sir. But I can be your eyes and ears.”
Could he tell how nervous I was? That I was sweating a little? That I was the one breaking rules?
I reached for my water and accidently knocked over my stupid wineglass with a clatter. We both reached for it, and his hand touched the top of mine. I froze with a silent gasp, and he went completely still. I stared at his hand on mine, feeling the urgency to pull away and run, but knowing something huge was happening.
Because after several seconds, he was still not pulling away.
I made myself look up at him, and we were both breathing hard. His hand was warm and strong on top of mine. Slowly, so slowly, I turned my palm toward his, and I pushed the back of his hand to the table. I lay my palm softly against his, then straightened my fingers to touch as much of his hand and wrist as possible. Ever so slowly, I dragged my fingers down his, letting my nails scratch lightly, and then I swirled my pointer fingertip in a circle around his palm.
When I looked at him again, he had a bead of sweat running down his neck and into his shirt. His whole body was tense.
I nearly came out of my skin at the sound of a knock at the door.
“Bahntan? I heard a noise. Is everything well?”
I stared at the Senator, whose eyes were now on fire as he stared at me, his eyes blazing a trail down over my chest.
“Senator?” I whispered. “Answer him.”
“Bahntan?” The guard called.
I leaned across the table and smacked the Senator on the cheek. “Answer him!”
He blinked and rocked back, yanking his hand to his lap. His eyes cleared. “All is well, yes. I knocked over a glass.”
I sat back in my seat with my hands clasped tightly, trembling all over. From the corner of my eye I saw him wipe his forehead and neck with the napkin and throw it down on the table.
“I apologize,” he said in that low, husky voice. He wouldn’t look at me now.
“Please don’t,” I told him. “It was my fault. I should go.” I stood, taking deep breaths to settle my trembling before the guard saw me.
Without a word, the Senator stood and walked me to the door, opening it.
“See Ms. Haines back to Primo Town,” he ordered, then turned away and did not glance back.
I left him, still feeling the warmth of his hand against my palm and fingertips, and wondering if I’d just ruined everything.