Fatefall - 18

Chapter 18 - Nakoa 

And before I knew it, I had a god trapped in my basement.  

The medics were reluctant to release Jett from their care, and at first Nakoa wasn’t sure why. As far as she could tell, he was just bloodied and bruised, no worse than the rest of them after the Qualifiers. Until the medics described the injuries. 

A broken wrist, broken ribs, deep lacerations on his torso and face. They’d sedated him to keep him calm, but Nakoa wished she would’ve argued more because Poppy had vomited several times when she saw him. For an assassin, she’s quite queasy, Nakoa noticed. 

The medics were Graced of Life, but there was only so much they could do for Nakoa and her teammates. Only Jett and Poppy were wounded---and Poppy’s only “injury” was her current Graceless state. Nakoa was handed a crate of vials to feed to Jett and a handful of other “remedies” for shock and trauma. Not exactly reassuring. 

It had taken a good deal of bribery to get Jett moved back to their apartment. Sage ended up threatening the medics---revealing his status in the process, though not his identity. 

The five winning teams were announced via messenger and then they were free to return to the apartment. Koda had left a casserole along with a note of congratulations, so they ate quickly before heading off to bed. 

Poppy seemed to fall asleep the second her head hit the mattress, but Nakoa struggled to rest. Moose curled up against her side as though trying to reassure her. He could probably sense the stress from the Tournament. Nakoa stroked his soft fur, trying to doze off. Her body felt tense and restless. Her Grace twisted in her chest and Nakoa pushed it back down, knowing what this meant. She couldn’t fight it off forever--

She must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing she knew, she was standing in the center of a tiny apartment. She didn’t recognize any of the furniture, and it wasn’t until the door opened to reveal Ansel that she realized where she was. 

Ansel’s apartment. A vision. 

He hung his jacket on the hook beside the door and tossed a bag of produce on the counter. The actions seemed so casual that Nakoa felt like she was intruding. 

There was a knock at the door. Ansel spun around, his worry etching lines into his face. Nakoa strode to his side, knowing that he wouldn’t sense her presence. The door swung open and a knife flew from the shadows, piercing Ansel in the shoulder. He dropped to one knee from the pain, his hand grazing the blade embedded in his flesh. A figure dressed in all black stepped into the room and wrapped an arm around Ansel’s neck. Nakoa’s stomach writhed but there was nothing she could do. Another figure stepped into the room, holding out their palm. Ansel’s eyes fluttered shut and he toppled over into the waiting figure’s hands. 

Nakoa woke with a start, her pulse thudding in her temples. 

She only saw visions of the past, present, or future. Meaning whatever scene she’d just witnessed was either currently occurring or would sometime soon. Or she was too late, and Ansel was already gone. 

Nakoa was out of bed a moment later, fully dressed, and racing out the door with Moose in tow. Her only thought was of Ansel. 

At two in the morning, the streets of Xegalla were empty. Nakoa was just glad she’d thought to shower before heading to bed because she’d been covered in Jett’s blood. She struggled to remember where Ansel lived, and she doubted the people of the city would be happy to find some blood-covered tribal freak wandering around the streets in the dead of night. 

Moose followed at her side, excited to be out and about for once. 

Nakoa worried that she’d made a mistake by bringing Moose to the city. She’d been lucky with the first Trial---it had only lasted a few hours. But what about the second? Or the third? What if she turned up dead? Moose would be safer with Ansel, she decided. 

She had a vague idea of where to find his apartment, as she’d spent the evening after her Qualifier cleaning up at his place. 

Worry fueled her search despite the exhaustion tugging at her limbs. She could only hope the vision was fake. Otherwise…

She shoved the thought away vigorously and walked a little bit faster. 

Ansel’s door was locked and Nakoa wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. On one hand, it could be a normal night and he could be asleep. Or he was being held hostage, experiencing interrogation after interrogation with his blood leaking across the floor--

Nakoa knocked, praying to the Fates that Ansel answered. 

Moose pawed anxiously at the door, as if he sensed the importance of this visit. Nakoa rubbed his ears, trying to quell the uneasiness surfacing in her chest. She knocked again, louder this time. 

The lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal Ansel, his eyes half-lidded and his red-brown hair mussed from sleep. He didn’t seem surprised to see Nakoa, nor did he appear to be annoyed. 

“I should’ve known it was you knocking at my door in the middle of the night,” he said through a yawn. “You do know that most people are asleep at this hour--”

She threw her arms around him before he could finish. Ansel tensed under her touch, but eventually relented, hugging her back. He smelled of the incense that burned in the streets back in the village. Falling into his arms was like returning home. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this little reunion, I’m assuming you didn’t wake me up just to give me a hug,” Ansel said, pulling away. He reached up to wipe away the tear streaming down her cheek and Nakoa couldn’t quite stop the blush from rising to her face. Fates, she was a mess. “Would you like to come inside?”

Ever the gentleman, Nakoa thought as she let Ansel lead her to the couch. 

“Lock the door, please,” she managed to whisper and Ansel didn’t argue. He plopped down on the couch beside her, taking her hands in his. 

“Is everything okay?” The words were tender. Genuinely caring. 

Nakoa nodded, trying to blink back her tears. “I’m … I’m okay. I think. Maybe. I don’t really know, I guess.” 

“Well.” He hesitated, as though not sure what kind of response to give. “Anything you’d like to talk about? How was the Trial? I assume your team made it through.”

Nakoa nodded again. “We all made it out. Je--one of our team members got injured pretty badly but the medics said he’ll be fine soon. But it was close.” She dared herself to meet Ansel’s gaze, which was really like gazing into the all-encompassing expanse of the desert. Filled with life and death and sorrow and a gentle sort of warmth. 

Moose bumped his head against her knee. Nakoa almost sobbed. “I…I need someone to watch Moose. Ansel, I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the Trials--”

“Stop.” He squeezed her hands, giving a small smile. “You’re Nakoa, Graced of Time, Ex-Priestess, and one of the bravest people I know. Your family is going to be so proud of you when you win the Tournament. I’m going to be so proud of you. Nakoa, I was with you when you picked your team. And I may not know who they are, but I…I trust them. I’ve heard the whispers and the rumors. Everyone is intrigued by the five of you. They think you’re going to win, and they’re right.”

Nakoa wanted to scoff and laugh and cry all at the same time. 

Some team they made. An assassin, a thief, a prince, a nobleman’s son, and Nakoa---a priestess who couldn’t find the faith to believe in the Fates, much less in herself. 

“I will watch Moose for you,” Ansel conceded, his fingers brushing against her palms in soft circles. “But not because he’s in danger of losing an owner. I’ll watch him as my promise to you, so that when you win the Tournament, I can give him back to you and say I told you so. Got it?”

Nakoa choked out a laugh. “Fates, you’re pushy.”

Ansel chuckled. “Someone has to be there to remind you of how great you are.” 

Nakoa flushed with heat, dropping her gaze. Ansel seemed to sense the awkward tension between them and cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, want to spend the night here? Or what’s left of it? Because I don’t know if I would walk back to your apartment at this time--”

The image of Ansel slumping over returned to the forefront of her mind and fear sent prickles down her spine. 

“There’s actually something else I came here to tell you.” 

“Oh?”

Nakoa sucked in a breath. “I had a vision about you.”

“Oh.”

She tried to smile. “Not what you were expecting?”
“Well, the way you’re delivering this news as though it’s some sort of funeral announcement leads me to believe that this vision didn’t have to do with me becoming rich and famous.”

“I saw you being attacked.”

Ansel sighed. “Let me guess---I wasn’t winning.”

Nakoa shook her head and recited what she’d seen in her vision. Ansel remained oddly quiet, his fingers falling still and then trembling. When she finished, silence fell over them like a wet blanket. 

“So,” Ansel said at last, “how often do your visions turn out to be true?”

“So far? One hundred percent of the time,” she answered truthfully. “Most of the time I see the past and the present, but seeing as you’re still here, I guess it’s in the future.”

“All right, so you saw the future me. Let’s think about this logically,” Ansel decided. “Firstly, do I get any hotter?” He made a face, as though posing for some sort of portrait. 

Nakoa laughed. “You set the bar low to begin with,” she lied. “And also, you looked exactly like you do right now---minus the bags under your eyes.”

“Ah, that’s because someone interrupted my beauty sleep,” Ansel said. “So it’ll take place in the near future then. Can you remember what color shirt I was wearing?”

Nakoa searched the memory, though it was blurred by her panic. “Green, I think. I can’t entirely remember.”

“Well, I don’t own any green shirts,” Ansel said. “It clashes with my hair. Is there any chance this could’ve just been a dream? Because as much as I would love to make a joke about you dreaming about me, it’s cruel to wake me up for it. Although I guess I am much better in the flesh--”

“You’re too talkative,” Nakoa corrected. “And I don’t dream. I never have. Plus, I could feel my Grace acting up right before I fell asleep, so it’s definitely a vision.”

Ansel sighed, finally tugging his hands away and hugging his arms to his chest. “I thought as much. And I suppose I can’t just refuse to wear green from now on to prevent it?” 

Nakoa shrugged. “You could try it, I guess, but I doubt it’ll change anything. I’ve never had a vision of something this detrimental before.” She knew he was about to make a joke about his attack being detrimental to her, so she continued. “Ugh. I guess I didn’t need to warn you because it’s not going to change anything.” She buried her face in her hands. “Forget I said anything.”

He grabbed her hands again, leaning in so his face was inches from hers. Freckles dotted his nose like stars across the desert sky. “Thank you, Nakoa.”

Heaving a sigh, he finally dropped her hands and stood up, stretching. “I think I’m going to head to bed now cause…yeah.” He paused. “My offer still stands. You can stay here for the night if you want.”

She opened her mouth to argue but no words came out. She truly was exhausted, and this conversation had drained her more than she cared to admit. “Fine,” she relented, and then shot one last look at Ansel before he flicked off the lights. “And Ansel? Don’t do anything stupid because of the vision, okay? You can’t change what’s already written.”

Ansel flashed her a smile. “You underestimate my newfound desire to avoid the color green.”

Nakoa was halfway through making breakfast when Jett appeared in the sitting room, rubbing at his eyes like he thought he was hallucinating. 

She nearly dropped her plate of morning cakes. 

“Jett!” 

Sage tossed his book aside and rushed to Jett’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist. “The medics said you’re not supposed to be moving around--”

“He’s fine,” Poppy interrupted, not bothering to look up from her card game. “The medics are overprotective. Jett grew up on the streets. He’s probably used to this kind of awfulness.”

Nakoa sighed. Poppy had been inconsolable about her lost Grace, her demeanor icy and bitter. She hoped that Poppy’s Grace returned soon, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle this version of her teammate. 

“Good morning to all of you, too,” Jett grumbled, peeling Sage’s arm away. “Look, I’ve felt better but I’m not dead---just starving.”

“I’m working on that,” Nakoa shot back. “You’re in for a treat---pastries for breakfast!” 

Jett’s face seemed to light up at that. He ambled over to the table though Nakoa could spot the stiffness of his movements. He was still in pain. 

There was a knock at the door and Adrian entered a moment later, grinning when he noticed Nakoa in the kitchen. “Do I smell homemade morning cakes?”

“Is that all anyone cares about?” Nakoa asked, though she was feeling just a little bit proud of her cakes. Baking had been the one hobby that Nakoa and her mother had agreed on, and only because Nakoa liked the simplicity of it. Either the pastry turned out how you wanted, or you failed and you tried again. There wasn’t any magical problem solving involved---just basic technique. 

“Is there anything else that matters besides cake?” Adrian retorted, joining Jett eagerly at the table. Poppy and Sage plopped down a moment later and Nakoa delivered a plate of cakes. They were gone within a matter of minutes.

 “Fates, Nakoa, these are amazing,” Jett said through a mouth full of sugar. 

“Happy victory breakfast to you too,” Nakoa said, returning to the kitchen for more cakes. 

“I take it we won then,” Jett guessed.

“No thanks to you,” Sage joked, but Jett wilted a little bit. Nakoa took the opportunity to pile some more cakes on his plate, but even the pastries didn’t seem to impress him. 

“I’m really sorry about that,” Jett mumbled, staring at his plate. “Some guys recognized me as a thief and decided to take revenge. I guess you probably know the rest.”

No one responded at first, so Nakoa sat down beside him and laid her hand over his. “Hey, what matters is that we managed to pull through. We got our five gems and we escaped in time to place in the top three. And you’re alive, which is a bonus.”

“My body says otherwise,” Jett said, gesturing to his black eye and numerous cuts. 

“That’s because of the sedative the medics gave you,” Poppy explained. She held up her hands when Jett shot her a dirty look. “I was going to ask them not to drug you, but you were in pain, Jett. And they were afraid you were going to hurt yourself more when they healed you. Not that they did a very good job.” She frowned, her brows knitting together. 

“Speaking of which, why didn’t you just heal me?” Jett asked. 

“Poppy lost her Grace during the Trial,” Adrian interjected before Poppy could start moping again. “You never did explain to us how that happened,” he noted, turning his attention to Poppy. 

She blushed. “Another assassin from my faction. He must’ve had some sort of poison on his ring that rendered me Graceless.”

Nakoa couldn’t imagine her Grace disappearing. She didn’t use it much, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel it. Maybe Poppy’s reaction was well-deserved after all. 

“Was it the same man who interrogated you in the hallway?” Sage inquired, ignoring Poppy’s dirty look. 

“Yes,” she admitted. “His name is Hunter and--”

“Hold on,” Adrian interrupted. “You said his name is Hunter?”

Poppy frowned again. “Yeah, but I don’t see why that matters.”

Adrian paled and sat back in his chair. “I made a deal with another competitor mid-Trial. If I let her bypass the door challenge, she promised she would tell me the name of someone who wants me dead. The name she gave me was Hunter.”

“Well I could’ve told you that,” Poppy said. “Normally when someone threatens to commit regicide, they don’t exactly like the people they’re murdering.”

“But it makes him a person of interest in my brother’s murder,” Adrian challenged. 

“And what? You’re going to interrogate him mid-Tournament? Maybe bring the Golden Guard with you to clap him in irons,” Poppy snapped. “You’re even more of a fool than I thought you were.”

Adrian glared daggers at her. “Really? Because who’s the one who’s Graceless right now?”

Poppy burst out in tears and Nakoa buried her head in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Adrian mumbled. “I didn’t mean that--”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not,” Poppy said. “Regardless, you’re right. I’m Graceless.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Sage said, crossing his arms. 

“If you want, maybe I could try to bring your Grace back,” Adrian offered, blotches of pink forming on his cheeks. “Since, y’know, my Grace is being super weird right now.”

Poppy looked up at him, her eyes wide with hope. “You would really try?”
Nakoa somehow got the sense she was third-wheeling in a group of five. She stood abruptly, collecting some of the empty plates and sending a glance towards Jett and Sage that she hoped conveyed her encouragement for them to join her. They didn’t get the hint and stared intently at Poppy and Adrian. 

“No promises,” Adrian said, turning his chair so he and Poppy were sitting face to face. He laid his palms on her shoulders so his thumbs grazed her collar bone and Poppy jumped at the touch. 

Nakoa turned away, tears pricking her eyes. The awkwardness between them reminded her too much of the tension between her and Ansel. Ansel. She sincerely hoped he was still okay. Maybe she’d have to check up on him--

“I can feel your Grace,” Adrian murmured. Nakoa risked another look to find the prince’s eyes closed and Poppy studying him. “I…I’m going to try to coax it back.”

Poppy nodded. Nakoa bit her lip, once again praying to the Fates. If this didn’t work--

Adrian’s face twisted with concentration, a look that was so un-Ansel-like that it broke the spell on Nakoa. She turned back to the dishes until Poppy gave a sharp squeal. 

“By the Fates, Poppy, they could’ve heard that screech from Aecheral,” Jett chastised, rubbing at his ears. “I think I’m deaf.” 

“Jett is stupid,” Sage said, and when Jett glared at him, he shrugged. “Guess you can hear after all.”

Adrian withdrew his hands from Poppy’s shoulders. “Well? Did it work?”

Poppy closed her eyes and suddenly leapt to his feet, grasping at his nose as blood leaked from his fingers. 

“That was uncalled for!” he cried as Jett doubled over in laughter. 

“My Grace works,” Poppy confirmed. She offered Sage a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. I figured you were the least likely to punch me.”

“Don’t bleed all over the cakes!” Nakoa shouted at him as Sage went to grab a pastry from Poppy’s plate. 

“Poppy started it,” Sage argued. 

Nakoa stifled a smile. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.”

Author's Note

I know this chapter had a lot of dialogue, but the scene with Ansel was unanticipated. Let me know if any of the dialogue seemed out of character.