Scheming Against Devotion (Book 2 of The Transition of Pinn)

Giddean:

My fucking head is pounding and the concoction my chef whipped up I swear is going to make it worse.

I glare down at the gloopy green liquid before as if it is the enemy. A spoon sticks out of the short glass as if stirring will fix the shitty smell or slimy texture.

Nonetheless, I give it a stir. Then I grab the cold glass and gulp the vile liquid in one go. Fuck me. I try to hold it down, but I swear the green goo is alive and trying to crawl up my throat.

I grab the carafe of liquor from the cart next to my desk and drink several gulps straight from it. The wisest choice of action? Perhaps not. But at least I can’t taste that shitty goo.

It’s a fucking sunny day and the light is streaming through the stone walls, hitting my no doubt bloodshot eyes like a laser beam. It’s just my luck that it stops raining today.

I hear pounding on my office door that matches that in my head and I run my hand over my face. Fuck my life. Can’t they just let me wallow in my hangover in peace?

Yes, I like a drink. It’s a fucked up coping mechanism to deal with the shitty planet. But fuck me, I rarely get completely shit faced. Talking to the priestess must have upset me more that I expected.

I sober up as I remember the marks on her body, the look on her face one of pain and suffering. A woman who had been through too much. I can only imagine what else that fat High Priest gets up to in that temple of his….

I hear the pounding again and it reverberates through my skull.

“Fuck, what do you want?”

James opens the door somewhat timidly. He’s already been subjected to my shitty mood today and has been wisely keeping out of my way. Smart kid. Unlike me, to the causal observer he looks okay, but if one were to look closely one would see dark rings under his eyes.

He stands next to the open door, not daring to come further towards me. I’m not sure if it’s my shitty mood or the smell of stale alcohol that scares him off, but I can’t get myself to care either way.

“Well?”

“Yeah, um. So you got this letter from Senator Brawn”

Despite being in the same party, Brawn and I don’t get on that well. He’s a slick bastard who is laser focused on how politics can help his family’s shipping business, or his family’s warehouses, or their over ground transport. Yeah he’s a rich corrupt asshole and we’ve clashed a few times on farm subsidies and tariffs. Its fine, but we aren’t going to best buddies anytime soon.

“Fuck, James, I’m not going to tear you head off. Just tell me what it says” I shift in my seat and rub my head.

“The Senator would like to apologize for his partner’s overreaction today and would like to invite you and Mrs. Senator to dinner.”

“What?” I scrunch my forehead. It’s too hard to think with this pounding headache.

James shrugs his shoulders, “What should I respond?”

“How the fuck should I-“

Boom

My head feels like it’s been slammed against the wall much like the door somewhere in the house.

“Fucking hell” I mutter as I get up to tell whoever the fuck it is making all that noise off. It’s my house, not a fucking market square.

I step out of my office and stride down the hallway in long steps ready to yell at whoever the fuck is making all that racket. James feebly follows me like a lost puppy, keeping out of my way but eager to witness the drama.

With a flash of color, I see Ivy exiting a room and storming down the hallway, her skirts floating through the air behind her as though they are having difficulty keeping up with her swift steps. Sean thumps out behind her, his face one of extreme frustration or anger. What the fuck?

“Ivy, is everything-?” I yell after her.

She spins around and marches up to me. Her dress soiled, her hair flying all over the place. She looks like shit. Was she attacked? Is she okay? She looks like she got into a fight but she smells…. Well she smells like she went swimming in a trash heap.

But her face, her face one of such anger that I lose all ability to talk. I stare at her for a few moments dumbfounded, confused.

She stares back, but she doesn’t seem confused. Her face morphs from one of anger to hurt. I want to reach out and touch her, but I don’t dare. She seems fragile in her anger, as though she might break at the smallest of moves. Fuck me, what happened?

Finally, I cave. “Are you okay?” I nearly whisper.

She doesn’t respond. She just watches me for a beat before whirling around and nearly running down the hall.

I give Sean a look that he needs to explain what happened, now.

“She went to the market square today” he says somberly.

“Shit!” I yell which echoes down stone walls.

I take off down the hallway after her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How the fuck did that happen? I am so fucked. So so fucked.

I hear footsteps following me, but I don’t look back to see whether it’s Sean or James or both. It doesn’t matter.

I have to explain. I have to do something. Shit. I can’t lose Ivy. I can’t.

I hear a door slam and I know she has made it to her room. Fuck!

I reach her room and pound on the carved wooden door. How am I going to fix this?