Page 47 of Ashes of Gold
Julius: You smiling foreal, ain’t you?
Me: Ye…
Delete. Delete. Delete.
Me: Maybe.
I look for Jhamal and a twinge of guilt shifts in me. He looks exhausted. I picture his face hovering over me, the times he woke me to make sure I ate, the way he sticks beside me now, so stubbornly.Julius is a friend. That is all.
“You need rest,” I say.
“You are one to talk.” He pulls a hair out of my face, holding his thumb there, stroking my cheek. I pull my face away instinctively. His lips turn in disappointment.
“We will rest when this is over,” he says, his gaze now straight ahead, hard. “Like we’ve never rested before.” And just like that he reminds me that he is so much of who I am.Or… who I used to be.I walk closer to him, letting my arm graze his, and he tries to hide his smirk.
“I’m sorry.”
He raises a brow, looking at me.
“For pushing you away. I’m trying. You deserve…”
“Jelani, I waited my entire life to feel like this. What is another day, week?”
His adoration wraps around me and I bask in it, my conscience needling at me. I don’t deserve him. For all he is to our people. The way he embodies everything the Ghizoni stand for, the Ancestors must be so proud. How could I ever be worthy of him? How could I ever redeem myself enough after what I’ve done to not flinch at his touch?
He isn’t perfect, my conscience whispers as his conspiring with Bati to put my name forward flickers through my memory. A wave of irritation rushes through me. But the moment between us right now is a balm to my raging storm. I’ll talk to him about it some other time. This moment is more comfort than I’ve felt…letmyself feel… in a long time. And I’d like to sit in it a bit longer if I can.
For the next several blocks, we walk in silence, but close, so close I can feel his hand brush mine. And I make sure to keep it there, hoping he feels whatever this is I have for him that I can’t seem to give words to.
The eeriness of being watched doesn’t fade as the sky’s darkness deepens. If those watching are indeed plainclothed Loyalists, like Zora’d described… why won’t they just attack? Could that be who the lab guy was? My mind floats back to the fractured moments and I search for remnants of memories, holes that might be ready to fill. Bri’d said it would come back in pieces. But nothing new is there.
A vehicle hums in the distance and I move ahead of all the others.Zora must sense the weirdness too because she stalks the next corner before we round it. Tires skid across pavement and I shove us into an alleyway just as a line of armored trucks roll by, only to screech to a stop up ahead. The Ghizon emblem with the Chancellor’s face is plastered on a truck’s side. Tarps are draped across the back of the truck lift and men dressed in plain clothes—Loyalists—unload a large crate.
“Wait here,” I say, and Jhamal’s fingers graze my wrist. “I just want to get a bit closer.”
“We need to get to Totsi’s, not bother with poking a hornet’s nest,” Jhamal whispers.
“Bati had no intel on the Chancellor’s whereabouts or what he’s up to. I’m not missing this chance.” I creep along the stone alleyway to the very edge, just enough so I can peek around the corner.
A Patrolman unlatches the top of the crate and wheels it between two buildings, before hopping back in the truck and driving off. I motion for everyone, and my hand connects with Zora.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were behind me.”
“I didn’t want you to.” She winks. If she’s saying I would have told her to stay back like I did Jhamal, she’s right. I’m just not trying to put any of them in harm’s way.
“What do you think it is?” she asks.
The alleyway where they set the delivery is between a smoke shop and a boarded-up beauty boutique. With the vehicle out of sight, I peer ’round the corner for a better glimpse. The ground level of the alleyway is lined with the back doors to several shops. Up above, wide windows. One is open with a red sheet blowing in the wind.
This is a drop. Someone’s waiting for this package.
Someone’s here.
I press a finger to my lips, the hair on my neck standing. I point at the window, then at the box. Zora’s brows furrow, but understanding hardens her expression when a door in the alley creaks open. We tuck out of sight around the corner and listen. Footsteps. Wood creaks. Breath hangs in my chest like a scythe.
I peek around the corner and the someone is alone, hovering over the box. His head is shaved on one side, anLbranded into his scalp. The sameLas on the palm of the boy we buried. Swooped bangs hang over his face and he looks like he hasn’t slept in months.
He gazes around and I snatch myself back, hiding around the corner.Still, Rue. Be still.Metal scraping against itself says he’s opening the box and didn’t see me. I try to let out a breath, but even the thought of breathing cuts deeper than a knife.
