Page 15

Amaia

“ S o,” I said, hating that I was the first to speak. “I guess we’re keeping literature.”

“Excuse me?” Yasmin muttered, her tone flat, but her eyes sharp.

Sighing, I shook my head. “Nothing. Um, I stopped by to chat education.”

“Ah,” Yasmin mused, a smug smile tugging at her lips. “Riley mentioned you might, though he thought you would’ve done it weeks ago. I told him you wouldn’t.”

I watched as she made her way between the rows of desks, collecting the books left behind. Tell me how you really feel . Promising Riley I would try with her was one thing, dealing with her in practice was different. Even if I’d come to know her outside of Mohammed or Riley, we’d still never be best friends. We were too … different. And I rarely enjoyed her self-satisfied attitude.

“Why would you think that?” I questioned, genuinely curious for why she thought she could read me. She didn’t know anything about me outside of her partners.

“Pride.” She answered as though it were obvious. “Such as in our book, Amaia, pride is a funny, dangerous thing. He kept faith in you though, and here you are.”

“I’m going to go. This was a mistake?—”

“No, I’m sorry. Wait.” Yasmin dropped the stack of books on her desk and strode toward me. In her long stride she reached me within a few steps, latching onto my wrist. “We should try to at least be able to work together for the sake of Riley.”

“Sure.” I yanked my arm free, my patience wearing thin.

“So?”

“So what, Yasmin?” I snapped, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended.

“The reason you came here.”

“Right,” I muttered, already regretting this.

“Actually, before you say anything, there’s something I want to show you.” Yasmin gestured toward a set of paintings toward the far wall. Paintings hung like a silent gallery. She walked over and motioned for me to follow. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

I forced a nod, my gaze sliding over the brushstrokes. “Uh, yeah. A lot of talent around The Compound, I see.” They were beautiful, but they weren’t exactly Picasso. I played along, humoring her, unable to shake the sense that something wasn’t right.

Yasmin nodded proudly before moving to a nearby closet. She pulled out a few more canvases, laying them carefully across the desks. I watched, my confusion growing as I scanned the paintings.

I moved closer. My stomach turned as I stared at one in particular—a chaotic swirl of jagged lines and smudges, the image so twisted it was hard to tell what it even was. Until you did. Then it was clear as the sky on a perfectly sunny day.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The horror was unmistakable in my tone.

Yasmin leaned in, her eyes glinting with something I couldn’t place. No. I could. Concern. “That one’s from one of my evening students. She’s ten.”

“Is she a new arrival?”

“No.” Yasmin lowered her voice, hesitation at words she itched to release from the tip of her tongue. “She’s a Seer .”

“What?” I ground out.

Yasmin bowed her head, kicking her sneakers one foot over the other. “Her parents asked me not to disclose.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re not that damn stupid, Yasmin.”

She reached across the little space there was between us and covered my mouth. “Shh. Lower your voice.”

I almost punched her. “Aren’t you a mandatory reporter or something?” I asked, smacking her hand away.

“This isn’t The Before. My only obligation is to keep the trust of these kids.”

Various insults formed on my lips but I thought better of it. For Riley. For Riley. For Riley. I reminded myself. I pinched my hands in front of my face, forcing myself to center. “I understand that and commend you for it, truly. But there’s a reason why we document magic, Yasmin. That’s a hell of a gift with no guidance.”

“And who’s going to help her?” Yasmin, however, chose not to hide the disdain in her voice. “Tomoe?”

“Yes. Or literally anyone on The Council. This is a big thing, she needs mentorship.”

She brushed me off. Dismissing me as though she had the authority to do so. “We can talk about this later, that’s not what I’m trying to show you.”

“Then spit it out or keep your secrets to yourself.” This conversation wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“This is hard for you, isn’t it?” Yasmin whirled on me, arms crossed over her chest. “Having Riley show someone else an ounce of affection.”

And this was officially going about as well as I’d expected. I despised the way she said it. As if I owned Riley and his life wasn’t his own. If that was what she thought then she didn’t deserve him at all. “Given the gravity of our problems right now, Yasmin, that is the very least of my worries. Riley can do whatever he wants.”

“Oh, he will. That doesn’t change, no matter the issues I have with you.”

“Good.” I shrugged.

“Good?” Her eyes narrowed, disbelief etched across her features. “That’s it?” The frustration in her tone simmered beneath the surface.

“What is it you want from me, Yasmin? To give Riley my blessing? He doesn’t need that.” I meant it. It was me and Riley against the world. He’d said the words himself. Even if Yasmin was Riley’s forever, there was no threat to our relationship. He was my brother, my closest friend, that would never change.

“He wants it!”

That was fucking news to me. I winced at the words. The room plunged into a tense, suffocating silence. Neither of us moved, the air thick with unsaid things, the kind of stillness where even a breath might shatter it all.

“He has it …” I cleared my throat and shifted my weight from the built up tension in my knees. “I have no problem with you, Yasmin. If you think Riley is holding back for some reason, then that’s not on me.”

“Bullshit,” she challenged.

There was so much bite in her. I knew she wasn’t my biggest fan after Mohammed, but this, this vitriol, it was new. She wasn’t usually this emotional—not to this extent.

“Look, I’m not exactly the warmest person in the room. I don’t know what you want me to say?—”

“Forget it,” Yasmin cut in, her voice sharp with finality. “That one”—she gestured toward the piece by the door—”that’s from a year ago. But this, this is now. All of it.”

“I don’t understand,” I muttered, studying the gore art she shook in front of my face.

“You came here to ask which subjects to cut and which to keep now that things are shifting, right? Here’s your answer.” She tossed the drawing aside, her voice edged with frustration. “Nothing. You can’t change a damn thing because what these kids need right now is stability. They don’t feel safe. If anything, they need more. More survival lessons, more combat training—especially the basics. We’re not sliding back into illiteracy on my watch.”

“I don’t know how to do any of that without working these kids to the ground. Between their work assignments and school, when are they supposed to be kids?”

“Amaia.” Yasmin’s tone softened for a brief second. “There’s a time and place for everything. And trust me, ‘being kids’ is the last thing on their minds. What they need is confidence—in every aspect—to survive. You know it, every adult here knows it, and those kids need to know it too. This art? It’s dark because they’re terrified. Literature like Lord of the Flies helps them process that fear. They see themselves in it and learn to think critically, to prepare for the worst. Take away their literature and art, and you take away the only outlets they have for coping while we prep them for what’s out there.”

“How can they know what’s beyond the wall?”

“The Seer , she shares some things.” Yasmin paused and bit down on her lip. Her head swayed side to side, considering if she should keep going. “New arrival kids do too. Never in my classroom, but I see the kids rush around them for stories when they’re done for a day and heading home. It’s not just that, Amaia, they don’t feel safe here—as in, Monterey Compound. Not since the walls were breached. To tell the truth, no one does.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “That’s news to me … Thank you, for sharing that. Can I ask why this is the first I’m hearing of it?”

“If you want a list of reasons, we’ll be here all day. The main one? People respect you. They love you. Monterey Compound wants you as their leader—that’s never changed. The effort you put into keeping us safe hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“But?”

“ But ,” Yasmin said. “The effort of keeping us safe does not equate to the feeling of safety once it’s been compromised. That takes time.”

It was a fair assessment—one I couldn’t deny. To be completely fucking honest, I possessed similar sentiments. I didn’t have the luxury of expressing that, however. Alexiares was the only one who understood half of what I was going through, and even then, he didn’t know it all. I didn’t want my family to worry. If I showed any sign of fear, of doubt, then that was it. The rest would all fall apart. Everyone in The Compound was barely holding it together, if I broke, they all would. Last time was lesson enough. Jax had died, and Mohammed… he’d paid the price for my grief.

“And”—I hesitated—”how do you feel? Do you feel safe?”

“No.” Yasmin paused, then sighed. “Actually … that’s a lie. I do, when I’m asleep next to Riley. But I know it can be ripped away in a second. I try not to get used to it.”

“I’m not apologizing for grieving,” I said. My chest tightened as the fire beneath my skin clawed for release, pulling me back into that pit of grief, the unbearable tearing at my heart. “But Mohammed was special, and I should’ve kept it together. I should’ve been there for the soldiers, made sure we stayed protected. That’s on me.”

“Keep your apologies. The only thing I want is a promise that you won’t let yourself fall apart again. That you won’t make me lose another love.”

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Do I need to remind you the reason I fell apart? I’m only human Yasmin, and sometimes humans need to hit rock bottom before they surface again.”

“As much as I wish that could be true Amaia, it is not.” Her stone-cold gaze hardened. “You don’t get to hold yourself to the same standards as everyone else because you are not everyone else . You are a leader. I had faith in you once, and I’d like to again.”

“I hope that someday you can.” I swallowed hard. “As you are acutely aware, healing and grief aren’t linear. You can’t control them. And I’m regretfully sorry to be the reason you understand that.”

I turned to leave, but Yasmin’s voice stopped me at the door. “You’re going to get him killed, you know. Whatever you’re planning … even if it’s you, he’ll die too.”

My chest tightened, fire searing my skin. The candles around the room flickered out all at once.

I stood still for a moment, then faced her, my voice measured. “Thank you, Yasmin, for your advice. I’ll be sending someone to work with the kids after their final activities starting Monday. Her name is Lola. She’ll be at your disposal for as long as she’s here. There’s a lot to learn. As for the Seer , Tomoe is officially her mentor, effective immediately. I trust you’ll find the right words to not cause an uproar with the parents.”

I didn’t break eye contact, my voice dropping enough to make sure the message landed. “And, Yasmin? Don’t you ever say something like that to me again. If I even catch a whisper of you bringing it up around Riley—hinting toward my death or his on my account—we’ll have a real problem. He doesn’t need those seeds of doubt planted in his head. Don’t let your relationship make you careless. I am still the general, and I do have final say on who stays and who goes.”