The Reformation Page 27

  Although the rebels were no allies of the King, at least half were opposed against the Immortales, which might have helped them in the end. But now, most of them were apparently lined with the Immortales, and was together working to bring down NNR from the inside. Of course, many of the rebels themselves, didn’t know that they were serving who they believed to be their sworn enemies, but they still served their purpose as pawns in the Immortales’ game of chess.

  When asked why Millinde was working for a race that was going to kill everyone, she told them (or rather, Fey got it out of her) that in return for their services, the Immortales were offering them the Elixir of Immortality, which apparently was able to make them immortal.

  “And how did you get all that out her?” Celine had asked the brunette, who cracked her fingers in reply, leaning back on her chair.

  “Neatly. You know that I have a knack, so I’m just putting it to good use.”

  “And where is she now, might I ask?” Celine didn’t like that cold glint in Fey’s eye.

  “Somewhere where she will regret her decision.”

  “Fey!”

  “How many people has she killed?”

  “How many people have we killed?” Celine shot back.

  “How many of those people deserved it? Weren’t we doing the right thing?” Fey asked after, in rapid-fire precision. Celine felt her stomach drop at the brunette’s words because yes, they were right but why did they feel so wrong?

  “But they’re being brainwashed that what they’re doing is the right thing,” Celine looked down regretfully, her voice soft, “Besides, what if we’re fighting for the wrong side?”

  Fey paused, turning to give Celine a disbelieving look.

  “Do you think we are? We’re fighting against a power-hungry race of immortals that want to rule the world. Do you feel evil?”

  “It’s not like that, Fey. Bad guys never see themselves as the villain. They’re the hero for whatever reason, however screwed up it is. What if-”

  “What ifs, will get you nowhere. Okay, maybe we’re fighting for the wrong side. But do you want to fight for the Immortales?” Celine shook her head sheepishly. “Then keep on pushing. If you don’t break through, at least we’ll fall trying,” Fey said, all bitterness and sharp edges, though Celine knew her well enough to know that this was just Fey Downcley trying to teach her what position they exactly were in with no unneeded saccharine.

  “Do all terminal illnesses make the patients seem deep and insightful or-”

  “Seem?” Fey shook her head, smirking as she saw the competitive gleam in her friend’s smile. It made Celine feel a leap in her chest to see that classic Fey Downcley-expression, because everyone in the palace was wearing such deeply etched frowns as of late, it felt relieving to know that they all knew how to smile after all. “How Jax likes you with that smart mouth, I don’t kn-”

  “Fey!”

  “That’s my name, Hollingsworth.”

  Celine shook her head, fighting keep a smile off her face. “Insufferable. So, is there any more vital information you guys are keeping from me?”

  Fey chuckled. “No. Thou-” suddenly her head shot up, brown eyes wide. “Oh god. I need to go.”

  Celine was about to ask what was wrong, but she had long learned that she couldn’t get answers by pushing. And besides, Fey looked as if this was urgent. “Go; I’ll manage on my own.”

  Fey gave her a quick word of thanks, before running off to wherever it was that she so urgently had to go to, her dark hair trailing behind her. In a few short seconds the silence surrounded Celine, giving her some breathing time.

  She tried to digest everything that Fey told her about Millinde, and tried to tie it in with Z’s backstory. It was making her head pound with the overload of information, the fact that Celine couldn’t even see the fact that one of her best friends was suffering, stood out from everything else in bright, bold letters.

  She couldn’t even believe herself sometimes.

  She tried to forget about the squeezing feeling in her chest, when she realized that the team made a move without her. It was making her feel horrible; she couldn’t stop thinking about herself, and she couldn’t even give a second glance to one of the people who supported her through everything. She was so shallow, but she couldn’t fight it.

  Where was Fey going? Was she meeting up with everyone else now? Are they- no. Celine had taught herself that meddling was the worst thing she could ever do. She trusted Fey. Fey was part of her team, and above all else, Fey was her friend, and friends wouldn’t stab each other in the back. (Yes they do. Just look at yourself, but Celine told that part of her rebellious mind to shut up.)

  She was alright.

  And right now, she had an apology to make.

  …

  She had chickened out.

  When she approached Z’s door, and was ready to knock, she heard a crash which she assumed was an object being thrown and smashed against a wall. It wasn’t that she was scared; Z couldn’t scare her. She knew him too well for that to happen. She was concerned for him, but she knew that if he was in the mood of throwing objects around the room, he wouldn’t want to talk to anyone.

  Celine liked to sit down and have a long rant full of fiery words of unbridled passion and anger, and get all of her feelings out. Z, on the other hand, didn’t brood, but rather liked to be alone. He hated other’s sympathies, something Celine didn’t understand until after she recovered from Scorchen, so she decided to leave him a note.

  She left the ‘Control room; 8’ in her loopy writing, underneath his door—hoping he wouldn’t unknowing destroy it before reading it—and left. Feeling a little less than confident, she roamed around the palace, unknowing of what to do with herself. The meeting scheduled for today was much later, and right now, Z was unavailable to talk to. Fey had a meeting of some sort, and Jax had to get some of his official, kingly work, out of the way. For a brief moment, the thought of Jan crossed her mind, but she pushed that out. While she was warming up to him, she still wasn’t exactly comfortable around him the same way she was around the rest.

  So she decided to take a look around the one place she never had ever thought that she would live in. The Palace of the Royal Family of NNR. She wondered what her mom and her father would think of her now. If any of her 6 brothers still remembered her name. She wondered if any of her family even cared. If that Martins boy was married yet, or if her father would throw her out if she ever attempted to come back home. She never would, but the thought did creep in every now and then.

  What if I left? What if I went back?

  She knew that self-doubt was one of her weaknesses, but again, half her personality was. She was a little too rough, too passionate, too selfish, too fool-hardy and impetuous, and she sure as hell didn’t fit in with the refined palace and the people within it. But she had a place. She had friends. People cared for her here, but part of her wondered if it was too much.

  Because while she might never act like it, she was made of china. So fragile and ready to break. Cracks lined her foundation and falling apart threatened her every move, breaking and breaking. Slowly crumbling into nothing.

  The job sometimes proved to be too much.

  Thirty-Eight

  “YOU look deep in thought.” Celine looked up from her hands to see Z, standing in the doorway in that slanted way of his.

  “I am.”

  “It isn’t your fault, you know,” Z said, the absence of lightness from his words not doing anything to comfort her.

  “How do you always know what I’m going to say?”

  “The same way you know what I’m going to say.”

  “Fair point,” she conceded with a deep sigh, her eyes fixing on the ground in front of her as she paused to collect her racing thoughts. “But it is partially my fault.”

  “It isn’t, Celine. You couldn’t have known, unless you were there. Hell, I didn’t even know. Unless this is the part when you tell me that you’re secretly an
Immortale, I don’t think you need to concern yourself.”

  “I’m an Immortale,” she deadpanned, but Z saw right through it, and she could see him rolling his eyes as he strode towards her, an easy smile on his face. Except it wasn’t because he had been suffering for so long and had been pulling the same tired smile every singled damned day and how did Celine not see it?

  “Since when did Celine Hollingsworth joke around, and I became the serious one?” he jested, but the words struck home for Celine. Her eyes shot up to meet his.

  “Since you didn’t tell me what you were going through.” Z’s eyes were cast down again, and so Celine took a deep inhale through her nose, determined to make things better, because it wasn’t fair of her to cut down Z when he honestly was trying his hardest. “I’m sorry, Z. For the way I reacted today; it wasn’t fair to you, or Jax.”

  “Did you apologize to him yet?” he asked, voice faint as he took his seat.

  She shook her head. “I needed to tell you first. You’re already going through so much, it isn’t right to put this on you as well.”

  “Thank you, Hollingsworth.” Though the quick smile he flashed her was genuine enough, it soon faded as his eyes focused somewhere past her. A crease appeared between his two brows, and there was something in the way that his eyes glazed over that scared Celine.

  “Z?” she asked gently. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How did I get here?”

  “Well, apparently you got put on a plane-”

  “No, not that. How did I get here? In a group with you guys?”

  “You got selected,” she said slowly. Suddenly, she realized what Z was talking about, and she could already feel the wildfires beneath her skin spring to life, heightened by anger, “Don’t you dare think that you’re any less worthy than the rest of us.”

  “But I’m not. I just make stuff for you guys and offer horribly-timed comedic relief. I’m just a guy on the sidelines; I don’t deserve center-stage like you guys.”

  “Z-”

  But he continued on, staring intently at something in his palm. Celine recognized it as the lighter that she had seen him look at earlier that morning. He flicked it on, staring at the bright flickering of the flame.

  “You should’ve seen me out on the field; I was utterly helpless,” he barreled on, his voice cracked with something that Celine had never heard before. Self-loathing. “I did nothing. Fey talked our way in, Jan fought our way through. I just rely on luck and hope to dodge a few bullets. Soon, one’s going to hit me; I can only evade the inevitable for so long.”

  “Z,” she hissed, so harshly that he looked up, flame forgotten. “I can’t believe you. I was having the same thoughts around a minute ago, but I knew that I was better than that. Okay? You’re better than what you think. We need you, just as much as we need every person with us now. You’re hilarious and you offer us consolation in some our darkest hours. That’s a talent; not to mention that you’re a genius and how without you, we would’ve failed 10 times over by now. You are braver than what you give yourself credit for. You’re the one who held the gun up to your own head, because you wouldn’t imagine harming one of us.”

  His eyes were wide and Celine was breathless and tearing up, but she didn’t let that stop her.

  "When Jan and I turned on each other in a blink of an eye, you remained standing, because you’re unflinching and reliable. Okay? You have been through so much—you’re going through so much-” Celine choked up on her words, and Z was immediately beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “See? Even now, when you’re the one going through living hell, you’re comforting me. You’re just so loyal and a good person. Okay, Z? Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Self-pity doesn’t become you.”

  “Doesn’t become me?” he asked, eyes glistening quizzically. “Self-pity is a colour now, then?”

  Celine laughed behind watery tears, wiping the wetness for her face, almost surprised at how selfless Z was. She had thought she had seen it all, but now here they were, him comforting her with his familiar, kind humour as always, even as he suffered. “Yes. A dreadful shade, I must add.”

  “What colour do you suggest then, Miss Hollingsworth?”

  “Boysenberry,” she replied just as quickly, sitting up, trying to recover from her sudden outburst and bout of tears. “Boysenberry, for sure. With silver accents, if you’re extra-daring.”

  Z smiled warmly at her, and his eyes momentarily lost their recent heaviness. “Better?”

  “Only if you forgive me.”

  “I was never mad at you, Celine. But if it helps, then yes, you are forgiven.”

  A knock on the door, caused both of their heads to whip around. There stood Jax, a shoulder propped against the doorframe, looking more put-together than usual. “Sorry to interrupt, but it turns out that today’s meeting is cancelled. Actually, the next few meetings are cancelled.”

  Z rose up, looking concerned. “Why? What’s up?”

  “You know how hard it is to convince the entire board of Region Governors to meet in one place, right? Well, I managed to talk them into getting into a meeting in Svaliska, so I can get the Rebuilding Project fully approved.”

  “You’re the literal king of the world. Why exactly do you need a board of Region Governors to approve your decisions?” Z asked, extending his limbs above his head as he yawned.

  “Technically, yes, I am. But without full consent, it could lead to disagreements and uncooperation, and the last thing I need is a civil war on my hands. Without the Governors, I have almost no power, even though I could pull a kill switch, literally whenever suits my fancy.” Noticing Z’s confused look on his face, Jax laughed. “Politics are politics, thank god I understand them. I’ll be gone within the hour. Now, I know this is a lot for me to ask of you, but could you try and keep a low profile? Things are much harder to clean up out of the Region.”

  Celine felt Jax’s eyes lay specifically on her, and she flushed. “I see no reason to accuse me of attracting attention. I’ll have you know, I am a calm person who easily blends in with their surroundings.” Jax just raised an eyebrow at her, though Z snorted, holding back his laughter in vain.

  “Sure,” Jax humoured her. “I’ll see you guys, then?”

  Z nodded, offering a small wave.

  “Bye, Jax,” Celine said, and he grinned, knocking on the doorframe twice before leaving.

  There was some silence before Z spoke up again. “I have no idea why he does that. He knocks on the door before and after entering a room,” he mused, more to himself than anyone else. After seemingly snapping himself out of his daze, Z turned to give her another reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. He added, “I’ll go find Fey and Jan to let them know, okay?”

  She nodded, watching him go with a smile, until her eyes couldn’t see his curly dark hair anymore. Then she sat there, realizing with a start that the weight on her chest had been lifted.

  Thirty-Nine

  “ARE you sure?” Fey was pacing back and forth, and Jan’s head was already starting to spin from just watching her.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Never so sure in my life,” she snarked back, and Jan tried to suppress a growing smile on his face at her tone of voice. Her head shot up, however, and she glared at him. “What are you smirking about?”

  His eyebrows shot up, and he bit the inside of his lip to prevent the grin from spreading any further. It was all so insane; last night they were at each other’s throats, then they tortured the actual spy, January had to help dispose of the body, and then this morning, Z stopped acting so strong for once to finally acknowledge the fact that he was wounded, which is something he should’ve done from day one. January figured he could forgive himself for losing it and smirking at the absurdness of it all. “What smirk?”

  Fey just gave him another cheeky look and continued to pace. “Well, what do you think? Do you think that it’s a good idea?”

  “No,” She glared at him. “But,” he amended, “it’s t
he only one we have.”

  “So is that a yes or no?”

  “I’m not casting in my vote of confidence just yet-”

  “We don’t have time, Jan. Why can’t you just pick?” Jan wasn’t sure if it was the way of how she said it, or what she said, but that growing good-nature that he felt building within him snapped. Whatever evidence of a grin on his face faded completely, and he felt his usual stony stiffness set into his features.

  “You might have forgotten, but one day ago, you seemed quite content with accusing me of being an Immortal spy, so I have every right to not pick a side yet.”

  “Jan, I-” He cut her off. He was on a roll now, and Fey Downcley wasn’t going to stop him. She had to know that he was a human being, and he had to set the record straight; otherwise this conversation would be useless.

  “No. I’m doing a big thing right now, considering my ability of holding grudges. You deliberately tore me down at my weakest, and never hesitated to accuse me time after time. And now I’m sitting down with you, carrying on a conversation without tearing out your throat.”

  “You’re coming awfully close,” she muttered quietly, but there was no other noise to distract his attention away from it.

  His mouth opened, but he snapped it shut, clenching his jaw so nothing would come out. He would breathe properly, then he would set this behind him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  “I’ll put it behind me, if you can give me a second chance. I don’t have to prove myself to you, I just have to be tolerable. And you have permission to give me a light punch, should I delve back into my old habits.”

  “Are you, joking?” The look of Fey’s face almost made him laugh. Laughing is good. Laughing is healthy.

  “Got a problem with that, Downcley?”

  “No; no, not at all,” she quickly defended, though her brows were still furrowed in something akin to wonder, but January knew better than to assume that Fey Downcley did things like wondering in her spare time. “Just a little surprised,” she muttered.