Chapter 1.3

One never knew when they would have to make a quick escape. While getting out of the hovercar at the house, Nyla couldn’t believe the size of it. She knew that civilians didn’t live in tent barracks, but she had never been to one of the grand estates.

            Edmond is Governor, Nyla reminded herself. And the Governor was just another word for President here.

            “There’s plenty of space for you, don’t you worry,” Veronica said, starting up the wide white stone steps that led to the front door. “Come, come,” she gestured Nyla forward.

            Hesitantly, Nyla placed her foot on the first stone step. She half expected to leave a dirty shadow of her shoe on the creamy surface. Accustomed to the trials of war, she was comfortable going days without bathing and often ended up leaving handprints on anything she touched. Relived when the bottom of her shoe left no mark, Nyla hurried up the rest of the steps and through the door that was being held open by a butler whom had a stoic look on his face.

Crossing the threshold into an echoing entryway, the opulence of the space blinded Nyla momentarily. She wasn’t sure if the chandelier illuminating the area was made of crystals or glittering diamonds, but she was in awe. The polished hardwood floors shone like bronze, mirroring the light fixture above in its depth. Never in a million years had a civilian permitted a Menhit into a place such as this.

I guess the laws really did change, although I don’t understand how, she thought.

            “Dear?” Veronica called, waiting for Nyla in the hallway. Edmond had already gone ahead. Pulling her eyes away from her surroundings, Nyla followed Veronica. They passed six doorways on each side. Large family pictures hung on the wall. Edmond and Veronica posed with two children who grew older as she walked along. They looked odd, and Nyla realized that it was because the photos were in the old style; they didn’t move. The hallway ended, dumping them into an occupied family room. Edmond stood by the couches where two figures relaxed.

            Nyla took in the closest teenager. They seemed to be about the same age, the girl maybe a year or two younger. Nyla admired her symmetrical features. Her almond eyes and dark irises were turned down looking at the holopad in her hands that projected a dancing figure into the air. Her long black hair, the same color as her parents, was pulled into a high ponytail which stretched her angled features into sharp relief. The other figure was lying down on the couch with his back turned to the new entries.

            “Mason, Eason, please welcome our guest,” Veronica announced to the room. No one moved.

            “Mason,” Veronica crossly rapped her daughter on the head.

            “What?” Mason snapped, raising her eyes to her mother. They then slid past her parents and rested on Nyla. “Oh. It’s here.”

            “Yes, she is here,” Edmond repeated, glaring at his daughter. “Now introduce yourself.”

            Mason rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “I’m Mason. And you are?” Her gaze swept over Nyla. Her nose wrinkled when she got to Nyla’s exposed hands.

            “Nyla.”

            “Humph.” Mason turned back to her holopad.

            “Eason,” Veronica called out to the boy on the couch. He didn’t move.

            Looking up from his phone, Edmond walked over and rapped him sharply on the shoulder. “Eason, your mother is speaking to you.”

            Groggily, the boy raised his head and rolled off the couch. He stood and stretched before his father. “What’s going on?” he yawned.

            “Nyla has arrived.”

            Eason turned towards Nyla and their gazes met. Nyla froze. There was something striking about the boy. He was taller than Nyla, and his dark brown hair was almost shaggy. It was still sticking up at the back from his nap. His chocolate-colored eyes peered at her curiously. Eason nodded, and Nyla dipped her chin in response.

            “We have more to discuss,” Edmond intoned, looking around at the group. “But we’ll do that over dinner. Eason, take Nyla up to her room. She probably wants some time to herself after all these changes.”

            “Alright,” Eason groaned as he stretched his back again. He pulled his shirt down over his flat stomach and walked around the couch. “Follow me.” Nyla fell into step behind him. They walked up to the second-floor landing and went all the way down to the last door on the right. “Here you go. Mason and I sleep at the other end of the hall. My parents thought it would be nice for you to have some privacy.”

            Nyla nodded and stepped into the room. Its walls were a blank beige, and only a four-poster bed and a desk occupied the space. “Thank you.”

            Leaning on the doorframe, Eason ran his hand through his hair which left it even more wild. “I know it looks rough now, but mom said that you can decorate it however you want.”

            “This is fine,” Nyla said, sitting down on the edge of the bed tentatively. “I’ve never had one of these before.”

            “A four-poster?” Eason asked, eyeing the bed. “It’s alright, I guess.”

            “No, a room. I’ve always bunked in the same tent as the Major, or his second-in-command if the Major had to leave.”

            Eason stared at her with wide eyes. “You’ve never had a room?”

            Nyla shook her head. “I’m a weapon, I had to be with my handler. And the Major was on active duty. We were always on the base.” She watched Eason straighten at her words.

            “You aren’t a threat to us, right?” he quizzed her.

            “No. I do not harm civilians, and I was given direct commands to integrate.”

            “That’s a relief, I think. Well, I’m going to leave and let you have some time to yourself.” Eason excused himself.

            Nyla stared at the empty doorway. Should she close it? In the military she’d never been allowed to close doors or tent flaps. Did she dare?

            Sitting on the softest bed she’d ever touched, she decided she didn’t. Instead, she took off her shoes and reclined back, letting herself be absorbed into the plush mattress. Her thoughts drifted back to the Major.

            He’s dead, she told herself. He’s gone. You’re alone now.