Page 111 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“I just can’t believe I’m finally seeing you in person,” he repeated after that. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve heard so much about you. You’ve done some sick things!”

One had to judge that sick was meant as a compliment in the context.

“Strangely, we heard little about you. Or your government,” Einar pointed out, unaffected by Angelo’s enthusiasm. “Why are you here?”

“I have an official invitation for you two.” Angelo rummaged in his pocket and took out a slim, elegant envelope from it, handing it over to Einar. “From our Prime Minister. Well, interim, until a true election can be held, of course.”

“Is his name Victor Ioan Santini by any chance?” Einar asked harshly, piercing Angelo with one of his most direct, cold looks; the kind that was certain to make him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

The young man’s smile faltered for the first time, replaced by a pensive, calculating expression. The thunder roared angrily outside, and the hall was flooded with a brief, bright light that made the room seem dark and full of shadows upon ceasing.

“Yes,” Angelo Rossi said after a short consideration. “I see that you may have heard about us after all.”

Einar said nothing in response.

“Even if you could believe all that may have been said about us”—Angelo held his glare unwaveringly, a remnant of a smile resurfacing in his features—“Surely, as a man who weaponised CanLys and used it to seize this fortress, you must know that there are times when the end justifies the means. All that stands between our mutual understanding is agreeing on the end. And our leader,MonsieurSantini, believes that we can certainly come to an understanding there.”

Something like a smile tugged at the corners of Einar’s mouth. I knew that meant that Angelo had just confirmed something that Einar had suspected. He ripped open the envelope wordlessly, and we both scanned the contents of the short, formal-sounding letter inside, signed by none other than the infamous Victor Ioan.

“Why didn’t Mr Santini just come here?” I asked. “Why send you to bring us? Seems ... inefficient.”

“He is too busy to make such a long trip. And he thought you might understand our position better if you saw our set-upat Bastia for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the visit. We have once again running water and electricity.” Angelo said proudly.

Einar’s features remained impassive, and I left it up to him whether he thought it necessary to enquire after the assurances of our safety on such a trip. Or whether he thought it prudent to ask what may happen should we refuse.

“Renata has many engagements here. I’ll come alone.”

Whatever I had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. My eyes nearly popped out of their respective sockets, and I choked on the protests already tearing their way up my throat.

“I don’t! At all! I’m coming too.”

Einar’s eyes flashed with rage, his lips but a thin line, and a dark storm gathered in his eyes, which I had no doubt he would unleash on me later. That didn’t matter. There was no way in hell I was letting him go alone.

“That’s good to hear. Mr Santini would have been very disappointed otherwise.”

Angelo’s smile attained a new quality to it; an unspoken understanding of Einar’s concerns. As if it were a mere afterthought, he added, “To make you even more comfortable, Monsieur Santini asked me to let you know that you will not be required to surrender your weapons upon arrival.”

See.I raised my eyebrows at Einar in a mute plea for him to be reasonable. We can even keep our weapons!

His nostrils flaring, his only response to both me and Angelo Rossi was a strangled, guttural ‘humpf’.

39

A UNION IS PROPOSED

We set off the next morning, Angelo having accepted accommodation and food for the night. The weather had cleared overnight, and the day dawned sunny and warm. Despite Angelo’s offer to drive us to Bastia and then back, thus preserving our own stores of petrol, Einar insisted on taking our own car. And so we followed Angelo’s dark SUV on the winding, deserted roads in our silver Mazda. Abandoned and destroyed vehicles in our way slowed our progress significantly. The whole voyage would have taken a little over three hours in the pre-pandemic times, but it took us over five to finally approach the city in earnest after driving through a procession of abandoned coastal towns.

For the umpteenth time, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Quit fidgeting,” Einar told me in a gravelly tone and without looking at me. “It’s your own fault you’re spending the day sitting on your arse. As is the state your arse is in.”

“Is it? Did youhave tobe so rough with me?”

“You have your safe word, don’t you? You could’ve stopped me at any time,” he replied without pity, his brows drawn and the hard clenching of his jaw a picture of remorselessness.

“I told you I didn’t want a safe word and was never going to use it, didn’t I?” I protested vehemently, like numerous times in the past, only to then admit in a very small voice, “But yesterday I did comeveryclose to using it.”

For the first time that day, the rugged lines in his face let up with something close to guilt.