Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(65)

Georgia joined Nena on her bed. Nena opened her bag, and Georgia looked on curiously as she pulled out a white container and a bottle of cologne.

Georgia shot her a quizzical look. “Olay and Hugo Boss? Are they for my hair too?”

Nena almost laughed, but her response was to open the plastic bottle and give it a quick sniff before holding it out. Georgia leaned in, taking a deep inhale. Nena sprayed a fine mist of the cologne in the air, and Georgia leaned into that too. She regarded Nena, who gazed at the two bottles, one plastic, one glass, with all the love of the world, and waited.

“These are my first parents, the scents of them, and what I remember the most about them,” Nena said. “I’ve kept these with me for half my life. They comfort me. Ground me. Settle me. They remind me of who I used to be and who I used to have.” She checked their tops were on tightly before slipping them back in her bag.

“When I’m in my darkest moments, missing my mama or papa, I pull them out and put some of Mama on or spray my papa. Feels like a kiss and a hug. They’re always with me.”

Nena wiped at the tears now sliding down Georgia’s face. “Find the thing that helps you remember your mum the most and keep her with you, because you don’t have to let her go, ever. But you also make room in your heart for others to get the privilege of loving you as well.”

“I already have.”

Oh, Nena wasn’t ready for that. Or for when Georgia threw herself into Nena’s arms, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist in a breath-sucking embrace. Nena hesitated, and then slowly, she put her arms around Georgia’s shoulders. She inhaled the coconut shea of Georgia’s hair, a new scent she’d cherish. She’d rushed to Georgia’s aid because Cort had called her and Georgia needed her. But Nena knew it was really her who was the one in need of them.





48


BEFORE


Assimilating into the Knights’ lavish lifestyle the past few months has been difficult. Most of the time, anxiety plagues me. All this sudden good fortune could be snatched from me at any moment. I cannot relax well enough to enjoy any of it. I live each moment in this opulence like it is my last, because I have conditioned myself. Nothing good stays good, for me.

They are a good family, treat me very well. They give me space. They never ask me about my past, and I am thankful for that, since I am not ready to share my story. It embarrasses me, believing once they know of my cowardice in my village, that my people gave their lives to protect me and I did not try to do more, the Knights will be ashamed and no longer feel I am worthy of them, as I already believe.

Each day is a discovery of new freedoms. I walk the grounds, pushing to see how far they will allow me to go, memorizing and mesmerized by my surroundings. They never stop me. I speak little, only answering when spoken to. But I like to listen, enjoying how comfortable and loving they are with one another. They remind me of my family.

I learn about everyone’s idiosyncrasies. Ishmael, the chef, hates when anyone peers over his shoulder while he cooks. Raul loves to discuss plants and flowers and allows me to prune and pluck with him in the greenhouse. He tells me to name the plants so they will return my love and grow for me. I find horticulture very soothing. The head of security, Montreal, is funny and a ladies’ man. He is seeing two of the maids at the same time, but they do not know. He winks at me to keep his secrets.

I do wonder about the number of guards looking after the family. They go everywhere we go, especially when Mr. Noble and Ms. Delphine travel, which is often. It all has to do with Mr. Noble’s business dealings, of which I am unclear. I have heard “Tribe” and “Council.” I cannot make sense of any of it.

“Why do you call Mum and Dad Ms. Delphine and Mr. Noble? You sound like all the people who work for them, and you don’t work for them, Nena. You’re family,” Elin says one morning as we prepare for school. The Knights have enrolled me in the same private school Elin attends, one vastly different and more formal than what I am accustomed to.

We dress in matching blue plaid skirts, light-blue button-down shirts, and navy jackets with a blue-and-white tree etched on each jacket pocket.

I stop packing my schoolbag. “What else should I call them?”

“Mum and Dad, of course. They would love it.” She sweeps her hair up into a ponytail, her favorite style. “I would love it. Then we’d be real sisters.”

Her answer rolls around in my mind. I would like that, too, but calling them Mum and Dad, calling Elin sister, feels like I am shutting the door on Mama, Papa, and my brothers.

Elin has been my biggest source of comfort, much to my surprise. I really thought she would hate having to share her parents and life with me, but all she has shown is kindness. She takes care of me. Nightmares plague me often, waking me up in cold sweats, sheets twisted at my feet, my face slick with tears.

Each time, Elin is there in my room, having heard my screams. She gathers me to her and assures me I am safe and okay, that it is all over.

I want to believe her; really, I do.

But the nightmares are driving me insane. They are worse now than when I lived them, because in these dreams, Monsieur and the men from the Compound turn into ravenous monsters that devour me alive. And Paul. Paul is the devil incarnate. After Monsieur and the men consume me, I am sent to Paul in hell, where he torments me forever. He holds my family—Papa, the twins, and Ofori—in cramped cages above a firepit of boiling black oil.