Page 33 of The Flame

For Daniel?

But it wasn’t just for Daniel. It was for all of them, all those lives destroyed by their fathers’ sins, by some perceived treachery that lay in their future. Even the Otter heir, who made my skin crawl, hadn’t done anything wrong. Not yet. Possibly not ever.

It was wrong.

We shouldn’t erase someone’s soul because of something they may or may not do one day.

“But I will get to live,” I said to Roman. “Daniel and the other heirs deserve that, too. To live, not simply to just exist as empty shells.”

It was decided then.

My heart was already aching for the people I’d leave behind. And for myself, if I were being honest—for my life in Capra.

But I would have Roman, and he was my home.

I would be okay.

10

The following morning, I didn’t take the shuttle to the rehab center. I left home an hour earlier and cycled all the way, skirting the town square and taking a leisurely detour along the lakeside path in the leafy Legislative District before navigating the symmetrical Quantum Zone.

Even in the bleakest months of winter, Capra was beautiful. My days were counting down, and I wanted to savor every moment, capture a thousand mental pictures to take with me.

The streets were lined with trees, some with bared branches, the evergreens still furred with velvet pine bushels. The grass was patchy and yellowed in places, but that was nature, too. Across the lake, the nature reserve was still mostly green and thickly wooded. A spiral of gray smoke rose up in the distance, a strong contrast to the cold, fresh air that stung my cheeks.

The Smoke was a place of shortages and hardship, the Blood Throats, the crime families, and the uncertainty of the Protectorate. But most of all, The Smoke was not pretty. The streets were lined with concrete instead of grass and trees. The buildings were packed on top of each other without space to breathe. The only nature to be found there was the occasional polluted breeze.

I would miss Capra.

I would my parents and Jessie most of all.

I would make a life for myself with Roman in our apartment in The Smoke, and it would be a good life, a great life…but today, this morning, there was a physical pain in my heart.

I wasn’t wallowing in misery and self-pity.

That wasn’t it.

The Smoke had walls, but they didn’t trap you. The Smoke had rules, but they didn’t suffocate you. For all its shortcomings, The Smoke offered adventure and excitement, a life that could be as unpredictable as you wished it to be.

Maybe, if I could convince Roman, one day we might make it into the wilds. Plan a safe route to lands beyond the barons’ reach and who knows what we might find. One thing I’d learned over the last few months was that there was more left of this world than I’d ever believed possible. Maybe more than even Roman believed possible.

But first I had to mourn the loss of Capra.

I stopped by my parent’s home. In a relatively short span of time, I’d come to think of it as theirs, no longer mine. The cabin was my home now…until it wasn’t. I wondered how long it would take before I started thinking of the apartment in The Smoke as home.

My mom opened the door with a mug of coffee in her hand, her smile warm when she saw it was me. “Georga, darling, how lovely.”

“I can’t stay long,” I said as I stepped inside the hallway. “I’m on my way to the rehab center.”

“What on earth for?” She paled, her brow spearing into deep creases as she added breathlessly, “Why would you do that?”

I realized where her mind had gone. “Mom, no! I’m not being admitted. I work there.”

Relief collapsed her frown, but she still didn’t sound impressed. “Well, for goodness sake, haven’t they closed that place down yet?”

“We’re transitioning the women out,” I explained. “I haven’t heard anything about them closing the center. Have you?”

“Well, no, but one would hope.” She sipped on her coffee. “I’ve just made a fresh pot.”

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