Give the Dark My Love(17)

Nedra’s eyes skimmed over the menu. “I can’t,” she started, one leg already sliding out of the booth.

“Please, get something. I’m paying.”

Nedra hesitated for a moment, but her hunger seemed to win out. When the pubmate approached, she ordered soup. I added a loaf of bread for us to share, two pints, and a sandwich, telling the pubmate to put it all on my father’s account.

“That was kind of you,” Nedra said. “Not just the meal, but waiting for me as well. Thank you.” She smiled, and it lit up her whole body. She was the kind of girl who did everything by full measure. I’d seen that in the way she’d taken notes in the lecture, her single-minded focus on her studies. But now, with her smile, I could tell she treated joy the same way. What she felt, she felt with all her heart; what she did, she did with all her focus. She was true. And that made her beautiful.

The pubmate placed a loaf of warm brown bread and a small dish of whipped honey butter on the table. Nedra eagerly grabbed the piece I offered her. “I will never forget cafeteria hours again,” she swore.

I laughed. “It must not be easy, coming to a school like Yūgen. Almost everyone’s a legacy student.”

Nedra fingered a little arrow that had been carved onto the worn wooden table. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, so abruptly that it caught me off guard.

I pulled off another hunk of bread and smeared it with honey butter. “Do I need a reason?”

“It’s just—you’re friends with Tomus, right? He wasn’t exactly welcoming.” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to.

“Tomus wants nothing more than to be his father,” I explained. “And I want nothing less than to be mine.”

Nedra’s eyes shot to mine. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

I put my bread down. “We’re something like fourth cousins. I’ve known him forever. You have to understand, he’s just very . . .” I searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “He’s not a bad sort, once you get to know him.”

“You shouldn’t have to know someone in order to be decent to them.”

“It’s not that,” I protested. The pubmate arrived with the rest of our food.

Nedra lifted her spoon to the soup. “I hope Tomus deserves your loyalty,” she said. “But I somehow doubt it.”

I leaned back in my seat. I’d grown up with Tomus. We likely wouldn’t be friends forever, but it was fine for now. “I guess sometimes it’s just easier to keep things the way they are.”

“I think that depends on what your now looks like.”

I wanted to ask her what that meant. What were her friends like in her village? Her family? Even among a group of farmers, there must be something political in the way they lived.

Before I could speak, Nedra changed the subject. “What about you?” she asked. “Why do you want to study medicinal alchemy, Greggori?” I grinned again at the way she said my name, slowly, as if tasting the three syllables.

We slipped into an easy conversation. I had never felt so familiar with someone in such a short time before. There were no awkward pauses, no careful weighing of words. I knew instinctively that when Nedra asked a question, it was because she cared for my answer. And when she listened, it wasn’t to try to find ways to twist my words against me later. Maybe she was right about Tomus, and familiarity wasn’t enough to make him worth the bother.

As the pubmate cleared our dishes, I said, “Let’s go somewhere.”

“We should get back.” Nedra’s voice trailed off, and I could tell she wanted the evening to end no more than I did.

“Or we could take a shortcut through the Gardens.”

“But the school is only a few blocks away,” she said. “And the Gardens are . . .”

“In the exact opposite direction, yes,” I answered. “I’m very bad at shortcuts.”

Nedra grinned at me. “Lead the way.”



* * *



? ? ?

The Imperial Gardens were the only public space in Northface Harbor. They took up six city blocks, all sloping, grassy lawns, with a pond in the center. Cobblestone streets—as old as the city itself—lined the perimeter, with graveled, meandering paths scattered throughout the grounds. The main entrance was located at the northern side of the Gardens and was framed by a giant stone archway, on top of which stood a life-size statue of the Emperor. Whenever a new Emperor rose to power, statues were created en masse and sent to all of the colonies.

Nedra and I used the east entrance—there was little fanfare at that gate, just an iron archway with the date of the Gardens’ creation curling over the top.

“I’ve heard about this place,” Nedra said, strolling beside me. “It’s smaller than I imagined, not quite the escape from the city I thought it would be.”

We reached a high point in the path, and Nedra paused, looking out over the city. In the distance, the bay glittered with lights from boats docked at the harbor, and just beyond them, the quarantine hospital’s clockface glowed like a second moon.

Nedra pointed north, to the governor’s palace. “All that house for one person?” she asked.

I laughed. “It’s not just a house. It’s the political center of Lunar Island, where laws are made and court is held. There is, of course, a wing for the governor to live in, and there’s also a tower for the Emperor when he’s on the island.” I pointed to a flag mounted atop a large turret. “That means he’s in residence now,” I said, “which is actually kind of surprising. I would have thought he’d leave right after the governor’s inauguration.”