51. You'll see, things will change soon enough

“Siri, I want to talk to you. Have a seat.”

I looked cautiously at the country's leader, who seemed too kind and hospitable in the light of the setting sun. The president's office had never been a good place for me, so I tried to stay out of it.

And as I gazed at the window from which I had once jumped, almost causing a bloody reaping, unpleasant memories arose from the depths of my memory. An eerie sense of impending disaster overcame my heart and it began to beat irregularly.

It hadn't even been an hour since I'd gained my freedom, but I wished Grant had been there to mentally shield me from my own emotions. The young man remained outside the door, winding the chain from palm to palm.

I got over the uneasiness that had arisen when the secretary left the tray of tea and walked away, sighed heavily and sat down in the chair offered.

The scent of lime and ginger root made my head spin and steam blew over my face. I wrinkled my nose because the hot drink made me uncomfortable. The wound on my gum was still raw from the reckless way in which I'd dealt with my tooth.

Circul himself was in no hurry to join the tea party at the table, nor to strike up a conversation.

I'd already got myself worked up, imagining ten ways the conversation could go, ranging from a stern or rude ‘get out of my sight now that you're not wearing a bomb’ to a villainous laugh of ‘did you think I'd be sane enough to sign a contract for my death? Naive...’

“I would like you to stay with Grant,” said the president.

I placed the cup and saucer on the table and turned to face the president's back. Rizor was still looking at the horizon, hidden behind a forest of skyscrapers, his hands in his pockets.

I couldn't even see his face, just his straight posture, his shoulders held up proudly. And how could I tell if he was joking or not? His voice was colourless, as if all life and strength had been drained from it.

“What for?” asked I calmly.

“He's changed. You're a good influence on him. His heart goes out to you.”

What? Grant has become a better man? What kind of monster was he before? Or was it just all the negative energy he dumped on me?

He would grumble, rant, bullshitted, use up the day's supply of nastiness on me, and then turn into an innocent dandelion in front of his father?

So what if it is his heart that goes out to me? Why would the president tell me that?

“But I don't like your son. I don't want to be in the same universe as him,” I exhaled as I got over my surprise. Was Rizor Circul playing another game and testing me again? There was no other explanation. “And anyway, what makes you think he likes me?”

“I know my son better than anyone,” the man chuckled at his thoughts and added with a sneer, “Have you ever heard the saying that there are only three things in the world you can't hide: coughing, poverty and love?”

Yes, and madness too... How could a man in his right mind offer such madness to his sworn enemy? Did he want me to keep an eye on his beloved son?

“What happened to ‘I'll let you kill me in three months’?”

Was that how he intended to get out of the contract? Trade his life for Grant's?

Surprise evaporated, anger rose from the foggy depths of my emotions and rushed through my veins.

Rizor turned and burned me with a dark stare. “Our agreement stands, unless you've changed your mind.”

“I haven't changed my mind.”

I froze, and for a few seconds the room fell into a vortex of ringing silence. We stared intently into each other's eyes, trying to read each other, to show our superiority, to detect the other's weakness.

“And you're ready to give your son to a girl who'll be your killer?” I smiled sceptically. What kind of father would do such a thing?

“You care about him too, even though you say you don't. Or am I wrong?” The president was studying me intently.

For a moment... just a moment, I imagined myself standing next to Grant. What if I didn't know who his father was? What if he wasn't the son of Rizor Circul? What if I had met Grant before giving my heart to a nonexistent technomagic algorithm called Krile? Would I have been able to give up death? Would I have been able to find life with a living person?

The answer did not come.

“I don't know. But either way, I'm not going to fulfil your wish. I won't be his friend, his girlfriend... his fiancée or his wife.”

“Why is that?” Sparks of amusement flashed in Circul's black eyes. Was he laughing at me, mocking my youth and my shortsightedness?

Slowly, giving myself time to think, I savoured the herbal tea, realising more and more with each sip that the ‘I just don't want to’ argument would not satisfy the president.

“I thought you didn't like me and were trying to avoid me in every way possible.” The cup clattered against the saucer as I decided to put down the treat and go on the attack.

The president sat back in his chair, put his fingers together and said with a smirk of superiority, “I'm not going to ruin the happiness of my son if he chooses you. Let's just say I won't mind if you stay with him. You're already engaged, even if it's a fake engagement.”

“It was just a story for the news, a distraction. Soon the engagement will be forgotten. Don't you think the lie will be exposed if we keep playing?”

“In people's eyes, you are already connected, almost married. Any lie can be turned into truth if necessary.”

I had a bitter taste in my mouth, and not just from the tea. I felt unbearably sorry for my country, whose leader openly said such things. How many innocent people had suffered under his rule? How much truth was hidden behind a veil of lies. It was no wonder that justice and loyalty were not honoured by politicians.

Poor Grant, I remembered his smiling face when he'd talked to me about sincerity and honesty. His father was the embodiment of everything he hated. Although it was unlikely that Rizor would show his true nature to his son.

It was disgusting to be around him.

“And I certainly couldn't get on with a father-in-law like that.”

“You're going to kill me soon anyway, so you'll be rid of that problem,” he grinned ironically.

Our conversation became more and more absurd. I got up and wanted to leave the office as soon as possible.

Talking to the president always broke my psyche. His proposals, his actions, his words – I couldn't predict them. First a murderous contract, and now this. Did he really want to marry us?

“You won't leave until I let you,” he said harshly. The wall shimmered and Oblivion magic enveloped the door.

I turned and stared at the horrible man. I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. ‘Now you've decided to intimidate me with your dark power, Your Presidential Majesty?’

Circul waited indifferently for me to calm down and return to my seat. Suddenly I had the salutary and pleasant thought that I had nothing to lose. I had long since declared myself suicidal, and I didn't need to fear the president; he would soon die at my hands anyway.

I exhaled, easily extinguishing my anger. I walked to the far corner of the office, sat down on the floor, cleared my throat, looked defiantly into the eyes of the country's leader and shouted, “Ribbit-ribbit! Meow-meow? Woof-woof! Oink-oink-o-oink, neigh-neigh…”

“What are you doing?”

“I assumed you didn't understand human speech. Bleat-bleat. Maybe you can understand it that way. Hee-haw!!” I yelled like a real donkey.

Yes, I had a lot of nerve, and for a moment I thought he was going to burn me to a crisp and leave me without even an echo of my soul.

But the president just wrinkled his nose, waved his hand to undo the magic, and exhaled in surrender: “Go. We'll talk when your priorities change.”

I stood up, walked to the door with a triumphant look on my face and, having already touched the handle, turned to say the last word. “And yet I'm no match for your son. We're from different worlds, different walks of life.”

“Is that what's holding you back? Social inequality?” A contemptuous sneer curled the corners of the president's mouth.

“I don't want people pointing fingers and whispering behind our backs about a mésalliance.”

The grin was still on his face as he said smugly, “Siri, you're still so naive... Public opinion is one of the most malleable things. You'll see, things will change soon enough.”