Page 64 of Kingmakers, Graduation

The singular window looks down over the small back garden. I peer through the bubbled glass, bisected by slender molded mullions, with a pretty pattern of decorative tracery at the top.

“Garden” was perhaps too generous a term; nobody has tended the jungle of vines and shrubs choking the trees, and half the ornamental plants are dead while the wildest weeds run rampant. You could hardly walk through to the high stone wall behind. Beyond that, a jigsaw of uneven tenement buildings, rectangular and ugly, with metal fire-escapes crisscrossing down their sides.

“Not the best view,” Adrik acknowledges.

“I’m not here for scenery.” I set my suitcase down in the corner, turning to face Adrik.

“Then what are you here for?” he says, running a hand through his hair in a way that looks like it will smooth it, but really makes it stick up in more directions than ever.

“Why don’t you tell me? On our first date, you said you wanted to recruit me. What did you imagine I would do here? Where do I fit in with everyone else?”

Adrik shrugs, his heavy shoulders lifting and falling with almost audible weight.

“I told you Sabrina—I don’t plan to be your boss. I want you to run free. We’ll see what you come up with.”

A light heat spreads through my chest, and I let him see my smile. I worried that once I was here, he’d revert to some misogynistic Bratva and start barking orders at me. But it seems he really does intend to keep his word.

“Will you take me out tonight?” I ask. “Show me the city?”

“Of course.” Adrik gestures to the room. “Does this suit you? Would you prefer your own space?”

I consider. I might like my own space, but I also know I’ll be pulled into this bed every night like a magnet.

“This is good for now.”

Adrik smiles. “That wasn’t a real offer. I didn’t fly you across the world to be roommates.”

He opens the wardrobe.

“You can put your clothes in here; there should be plenty of space. I have to speak with some of the others. If you want to rest, there’s at least an hour before dinner.”

He leaves me to unpack, which takes little time since I brought only the single suitcase, mostly containing school uniforms that I toss straight in the trash.

Adrik wasn’t joking when he said there was room for my things—he’s got about six shirts in the wardrobe and not much else. He lives a minimalist life, that much is clear.

I’ll have to adjust to all this tidiness. I’ve been known to toss my clothes on the floor when I roomed with Nix, but I won’t do that here. It’s time to grow up, like my dad said—in more ways than one.

We’ve got our own bathroom, thank god. I don’t think I could stand sharing with Vlad.

I set my toiletries inside, my toothbrush next to Adrik’s and my shampoo in the tiny box of the shower. The bathroom has been renovated somewhat more than the rest of the house, but it still looks thirty years out of date, its pedestal sink cracked on one side, the brass faucets rusted. The tub is made of oxidized copper so heavy that the floorboards sag beneath it.

Unpacking completed, I shove the empty suitcase under the bed, then stand and wait, wondering if I’ll feel regret now that I’m settling into the reality of my situation.

Regret doesn’t come. Only a deep sense of exhaustion.

I’d planned to make use of that cramped shower. Instead, I sink onto the bed, burying my face in Adrik’s pillow. It smells of him—a scent I’ve tried a hundred times to isolate, without ever being able to name it. It comes to me in waves like colors—dark like a deeply steeped tea, with notes of heady sweetness, burgundy wine or black cherry. Then that head-spinning chemical edge that compels you to inhale again and again, even if you know it might be bad for you, or even toxic—testosterone like pure gasoline.

It’s that scent that makes me feel at home in this room. That chains me to this bed with no desire to ever leave it.

I fall asleep breathing him in, over and over and over.

I waketo the clanging of a cowbell. It echoes through the house, bringing scuffling feet, scraping chairs, and jumbled conversation into the kitchen below.

If I hadn’t been woken by the noise, the smell of beef stew might have done it. My gurgling stomach urges me out of the bed.

A glance in the mirror reveals smears of mascara under both eyes and a lopsided haystack of hair. I twist my hair up in a topknot and take a couple halfhearted swipes at my face with a damp cloth, too hungry for anything else.

By the time I get to the kitchen, everyone else is seated on the dual bench seats of the farmhouse table, including Adrik. He throws a look at Hakim, telling him to make room for me. I drop down between Andrei and Chief instead. I don’t need Adrik’s protection, not in this house.

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