Page 19

As the children reluctantly returned to the swings and climbing structure, pretending to have super strength as they played, Drova joined Arezoo on the bench.

"You've made their day," Arezoo said.

Drova shrugged. "It was fun. I grew up in a compound where the Kra-ell children mostly trained.

I saw the human children engage in silly, playful activities, but until I moved to the village, I didn't understand why they wasted their time on such trivial things.

" She affected a smile, but on her Kra-ell face, it looked more threatening than reassuring.

Arezoo wondered what kind of childhood produced someone who could be both a deadly warrior and patient with small children.

"Were there playgrounds in your compound?" she asked carefully.

"We had training grounds. The closest thing to play was combat practice. The human kids just played ball in the dirt or hide and seek games."

The weight of that statement made for a charged and silent moment between them. Arezoo thought of her own cousins, of how their childhoods had been so much better than Drova's, despite the restrictions.

"I should thank you again," Arezoo said. "For the rescue, I mean. You are very brave."

"You've already thanked me multiple times."

"It doesn't feel like enough. You risked your life for strangers. You flew halfway around the world to liberate a bunch of women you didn't know from the evil people who did really bad things to us. I will be forever grateful to you."

Drova shrugged again, but Arezoo could see the satisfaction in her big, black eyes.

"I didn't do it for you. I wanted to prove myself to my mother and to the Guardians, and because of my special ability, I was allowed to join the mission despite my age.

I screwed up majorly, but I want to believe that I prevented casualties despite losing my voice amplifier and getting shot. "

Arezoo appreciated the honesty, but she still thought that Drova was selling herself short. "You did your best, and without you, I wouldn't be here, sitting on a bench in one of the safest spots on earth, enjoying a sunny day with a friend."

After a long moment of just watching the children play, Drova turned to her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"How do you like working at the café?"

That was an abrupt change of subject. "I like it a lot. Wonder and Aliya have been patient with my mistakes. And most of the customers are nice, except for?—"

A commotion at the playground cut off her words. Arman had decided to try the monkey bars and now he had fallen and was sitting on the ground, holding his knee and trying very hard not to cry.

Arezoo rushed over to him, while Drova didn't seem overly concerned and stayed on the bench.

To her, a scraped knee was nothing. A small hurt that she had probably been told to ignore and keep on training.

The Kra-ell raised Spartans.

"Let me see," Arezoo said, examining his knee. It wasn't bad, just a surface scrape, but to a six-year-old it probably felt catastrophic.

"It hurts," Arman whimpered.

"I know, brave one. But look, it's just a tiny scratch. You'll have a battle scar to show everyone."

"A battle scar?" He perked up.

"All the best warriors have them," Drova said from behind Arezoo and then crouched beside them. "This one will heal quickly, but you can tell everyone you got it fighting monsters."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Drova said with a perfectly straight face. "I saw the whole thing. You were very brave."

Arezoo opened the pack Yasmin had prepared for the kids and wasn't surprised to find a first aid kit.

The boy hissed when she cleaned the scrape, but he was trying hard to be brave in front of Drova.

When she applied a Batman Band-Aid, Arman's tears dried up, replaced by excitement about the battle wound and the cool Band-Aid.

"Can I have a battle scar too?" Rohan asked hopefully.

"No," Arezoo and Drova said in unison, making them both laugh.

"Scars have to happen naturally," Drova explained. "You can't plan them."

"Good afternoon, ladies," someone said from behind them, and Arezoo's stomach tightened when she recognized the voice.

Turning around, she plastered a smile on her face. "Hello."

Ruvon seemed lost for words for a moment, but then they spilled out of him in a rush. "I was on my way to the café, I mean to the vending machines, when I saw you here. I thought I would stop to say hello and see if you would like me to get you something while I was at it."

Every instinct screamed at her to refuse. The thought of accepting anything from a former Doomer made her skin crawl.

"I—" she started to decline.

"That would be nice," Drova interjected. "Black coffee for me, nothing added. Arezoo?"

Trapped by social courtesy and Drova's acceptance, she couldn't be rude, not when Ruvon hadn't done anything wrong.

"The same, thank you," she managed, the words feeling like sand in her mouth.

"Two black coffees," Ruvon repeated, a smile transforming his usually serious expression. "I'll be right back."

As he walked away, Drova looked at her with an amused expression on her skinny face. "He likes you."

"I know," Arezoo muttered, watching Cyra chase Rohan around the slide.

"He seems nice enough. A bit too timid for my taste, but nice."

Arezoo looked around to make sure the children weren't listening, then lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "I want nothing to do with Doomers, even former ones. I've suffered enough at their hands."

The words came out harsher than she'd intended, carrying all the fear and anger she'd been holding bottled up inside.

Drova was quiet for a moment, her enormous dark eyes thoughtful.

"What happened to you and your family was horrible.

No one expects you to forget that, but you should consider that Ruvon being born into the Brotherhood doesn't automatically make him a monster.

It just means he was born in the wrong place and probably suffered a lot. "

"How can you say that?" Arezoo wrapped her arms around herself. "They're all monsters. They're raised to be that way. Once the lines of decency and morality are crossed, there is no coming back from that."

"It's true," Drova conceded. "They're raised in hatred, taught to see others as less than human, and conditioned to violence from birth. Most never escape that programming. But some do."

Arezoo shook her head. "If they escape the organization, it's only to do their own evil deeds, like the fake doctor who hurt us."

Drova's eyes softened. "Kalugal and his men escaped because they managed to break through the brainwashing.

Kalugal is a compeller, so he must have freed those whom he believed were different.

The fact that Ruvon escaped, that he abandoned that life and everything he'd been taught to believe, is actually a much stronger indicator of his character than where he came from. "

"You don't know what they did to us," Arezoo whispered, tears threatening.

"No, I don't," Drova said softly. "And I'm not saying you have to do anything you're not comfortable with. You don't owe him or anyone else your time or attention. Your feelings are valid. Your caution is understandable."

"But?"

"But maybe consider that these men were victims too. Born into a system they didn't choose, brainwashed from birth, never given a chance to be anything else, but they still managed to break free."

As the children's laughter rang out across the playground, it was a bright counterpoint to the heavy conversation. Arezoo watched them play, thinking about innocence and choice, about the circumstances of birth versus the decisions people made.

"I still don't want anything to do with him," she said finally.

"That's your choice," Drova said. "Just remember that this community is small. You'll be running into Kalugal's men regularly. Finding a way to coexist with them will make your life easier."

"Coexisting doesn't mean I have to be friendly."

"No, it doesn't," Drova agreed. "But it might mean accepting coffee when it's offered in kindness, if only to keep the peace."

Before Arezoo could argue further, Cyra ran over and tugged on her shirt. "I'm thirsty!"

"Me too!" Rohan added, appearing at her other side.

Thankful for the interruption, Arezoo dug into her bag for the water bottles she'd brought, and as she distributed them, she tried to push thoughts of Ruvon and former Doomers from her mind.

Still, Drova's words lingered.

The uncomfortable truths, or rather claims, were unsettling.

The world had been simpler when she could divide people into clear categories of good and evil, victim and perpetrator, friend and enemy.

This new reality, where former enemies walked the same paths and brought coffee as peace offerings, necessitated a kind of nuance she wasn't ready for.

It required the suspension of disbelief and the acceptance that redemption was possible even for monsters.

Once upon a time, Arezoo might have believed it, but not anymore.