Page 56 of The Flame

“Maybe later,” I said, grateful that we were apparently still on speaking terms.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. It had been a long day. The constant onslaught of excitement, stress and adrenaline had taken its toll. I stretched my legs out beneath the table and slid my hands inside my coat, arms wrapped around my waist for extra warmth and comfort.

“I don’t recommend sleeping in that position.”

My eyes blinked open. “I’m not sleeping,” I said around a yawn. “But that sounds like a good idea. It’s been a long day.”

“A weird day.”

I swallowed a laugh. “We are so far beyond weird, we crossed weird about a mile ago.”

“I get it, you know,” Daniel said, studying me, his expression somber. “I used to listen to the way you spoke. I saw the stars in your eyes, the passion in your arguments, the trouble in your smile, and I liked to think I understood. I didn’t, not really, but I do now.”

I rolled my head his way. “What are you saying?”

“I know what it’s like to feel trapped and powerless, utterly helpless, subject to the whims of people with the authority to do whatever they wish, to you, to those you care about,” he said. “It’s only been a few days for me, but this has been your life.What you did, stealing my father’s handprint…I guess, I get how a person could be driven to do just about anything to change the helplessness.”

“Thank you,” I said in a small voice. It wasn’t forgiveness, but what he’d given me was worth more. He understood why it had never felt like a choice for me. “I’m still sorry.”

“I know.” There was another stretch of silence. “They didn’t have to do…that…to my father, though. He would have stepped down quietly. He always considered his position on the council to be a duty he was too noble to shy away from, not a power he hungered after.”

I didn’t know Julian Edgar well enough to judge Daniel’s word against whatever inner struggles the man might have fought against. But I also knew that Daniel didn’t know the full story about his father, like how he’d committed his own wife, Daniel’s mother, to rehab.

I didn’t say anything, and I never would. It wasn’t my secret to tell and if Daniel could live the rest of his life without that dark fact, well, that’s what I wished for him.

17

Sleeping in a drafty cabin in the middle of winter wasn’t a great experience. I’d tried to count my blessings every time I woke up, either shivering or claustrophobic because I’d burrowed my head completely under the quilt, and came up with nothing from one restless hour to the next.

I thought of the barons and their people in the tents outside Sector Five. Or maybe they didn’t trade in the dead of winter. Maybe they were warm and comfy in their compounds—or wherever they lived—until spring.

I thought of The Smoke inhabitants with their electric curfew that cut off their heating in the evenings. Or maybe they all had portable heaters, like Roman. For their sake, I truly hoped so.

Here in Capra, we’d never had to consider basic amenities. Our homes were always insulated. The lights were always on. Food was always available. We paid in other ways, of course, but still…I was spoilt. That wasn’t lost on me.

When I heard movement outside my bedroom, I flung off the oppressive weight of the quilt and hopped out of bed.

Daniel was sitting at the table, dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday plus my hoodie, the same clothes he’d probably slept in. “Morning, how did you sleep?”

“I didn’t, not really,” I grumbled as I squeezed between the two-seater couch that divided the kitchen from the living space. I grimaced at myself. “Sorry, ignore me. I slept fine. How about you?”

“Yeah, okay I guess.”

The kitchen consisted of a cabinet counter with a sink and a single-plate gas burner. Some shelves bracketed the wall, sparse with a few plates and mugs, a basket of cutlery and two banged up pots. The sink cabinet hid a bucket, a small trash can and a bar fridge.

“What are you looking for?” Daniel called out.

“It’s stupid.” I slammed the cabinet closed and joined him at the table. “I thought maybe the last guests may have left some coffee behind.”

“Wishful thinking.” He chuckled, humor sparking the blue in his eyes. “This cabin probably hasn’t seen guests in years. There’s not much demand this far from the lake.”

I studied him. “You’re in a good mood…”…considering.

“That’s a stretch, but I’m not in a bad mood.” He opened the bag of crackers on the table and pushed it closer to me. “I’m not holed up in a cell at the Guard Station and I’m not cuffed to a bed in rehab.”

Nowthat’show you count your blessings.

We breakfasted on crackers and dried apple. Our supplies were running low, and my stomach cried out for something more substantial, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it other than hope Roman made it back today at some point with proper food. It’s not like we could go shopping in the square.

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