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I don't bother pointing out the lie. I'm about to change history, change lives. Or die trying, I suppose. But Mich will be stuck here, away from it all, and he hates it.
One of Mich's nameless fans gushes, "Oh, it is too bad. While I don't doubt your negotiation skills, Miss Aistin, and you're certainly lovely enough, there's no denying that Mich's charm is without match."
"Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. There's something about him, isn't there? Fits into every group. He's like a chameleon." While they miss the jab for what it is, Mich does not. His jaw pulses, and I hold back a smirk before excusing myself, "While I hate to leave a party early, I have to prepare for tomorrow."
"Come now, El," Mich swallows another sip, the previous drinks already making him languid and foolish enough to make another pass at me. Whether we like each other or not, he likes to conquer, and I'm the one thing he hasn't succeeded in dominating. "Don't you want to celebrate what might be your last night among the living?"
Not with you.
"Give her a break, Mich," Alya slaps his shoulder before standing, "Come on, I'll walk you home, El."
The walk home is silent and somber, both of us unwilling to face the possibility that we won't see each other again. We practically grew up together. We were in the same class through primary and secondary school, in the same housing unit in tertiary school, and attended some of the same lectures. And she was by my side, helping with announcements during my entire internship.
A week and a half without her may as well be a whole lifetime.
"It's going to be fine," she tells me. "Why would he go through all this just to change his mind?"
I shrug, "Don't know. In his letters, he seems friendly enough."
"You've read them?" she gasps. "I thought maybe some of the cryptologists were just letting you know what they say."
"No, I've been in charge of reading and replying, readying for this moment. With oversight, of course."
She bounces on her heels, "So what is he like?"
Running a hand through my hair, I answer, "He's straightforward. Polite. Nothing... frilly or unkind. Certainly not terrifying."
She nods. "It must be so strange to live in a kingdom where you never know who will be in charge or when. I bet they're all stoic like that."
"That would make sense," I tell her, rounding the corner to my new representative housing. "I'm going to miss you."
"Psh, you'll be back before you know it. Come here." She wraps her arms around me, nearly squeezing the breath from my lungs. She can put on a brave face, but her trepidation, resignation, and grief are leaking from her pores. Even she is unconvinced I'll be returning in one piece.
Once she leaves, I let the tension from the night bleed from me—the false cheeriness, the beaming smile. In the comfort of my home, I can finally just be me—not the version of me that my country needs.
So I strip down, take off the immaculately fitted pants and blouse, and throw them across my lounge chair, leaving me in just my underthings until I can track down my favorite sleeping shirt. It's on my bed, next to the clothing case I've barely put anything into. Once it's on, I force myself to focus, knowing what I pack will be just as important as anything I say.
I have to be modest but not prudish, lest I come across as an unfriendly hag.
I have to look pretty but not sexy, or else I risk giving the wrong impression.
I have to dress well, but not too well, or I might look like I'm bragging about Rhyma's wealth.
While we do alright, I'd hardly say Rhyma is a wealthy nation. We've simply made great strides forward with trade and combining our talents to create a support system for everyone. Only Oksangui can give us the things we're missing, namely fish, seaweed, and salt water.
When the lines were drawn centuries ago, we shared the coast with Oksangui and Suva. There was a beautiful array of fish and flourishing trade routes, and according to the history books, everyone thrived, even without a treaty.
But over the years, our coast has simply stopped offering what it used to. The water line changed, turning our coast into deadly cliffs. The wildlife became inedible, and the seaweed and plant life became decrepit and decaying. Now, all that's left in the water are the starving sharks and wicked Syrens, who will attempt to tear apart anything that goes in, be it a person or any attempt at gathering fish.
Over the years, many have questioned whether the fair folk enchanted our waters or if the witches to the north of us have cursed our people. But our leaders have tried to make peace with both, only to be met with cold detachment and assurances that our undoing is due to our own poison and no one else's.
What that means, I can't even begin to speculate.
And now our only choice is to work with the new Oksangui King or learn to live without anything from Mother Ocean.
I'm our only choice. And I'm willing to take the risk that King Laichnek will kill me if it means we and our allies might have a chance.
But that doesn't mean that I'm not absolutely fucking terrified to meet that myth of a man in two days' time.
