wear is directly correlated to your seniority, likability, and how often Zein summons you. It’s critical to be on the good side of the barter girls since they have no problem refusing trades. I’ve never tried to trade, but with Anaya being the head out of all of them, I can guess that I won’t get far with it. My rec station, as indicated by my number is unsurprisingly, very empty.
I let out an exasperated sigh as I weave through the rows of individual rec stations—a desk with a slip of tape that reads the unit’s number and given name. At the back of the room there is an open space with zabuton seat pillows. In the corner sits a small bookshelf holding about thirty raggedy books. Picture books without words, since supply units aren’t supposed to be able to read.
I grab a faded zabuton and throw it in the corner and throw myself on it. I curl my knees to my chest and bury my head into my lap as I imagine Savvy, Katarii, and the constructs of their current conversation. They are probably talking about me the way Katarii used to before we became friends. The way Anaya and the rest of the supply units do when I’m out of earshot. Imagining it creates a low and constrictive burn in my chest. The pressure snakes its way to the corners of my eyes, threatening to erode the dam.
Seclusion has always been a way of life for me, but I’ve never felt its weight quite like this. At least, not since before Castrel was permitted to keep me company in the cathedral. When I lost him and met Savvy, until recently actually, I thought that it was her and me against the world. That we were two out of the millions: best friends. I suppose that sort of thinking was delusional. I didn’t want to believe that Savvy had other friends as important as me, since I no longer had anyone as important as her. Castrel’s form from behind the violet wall illuminates my thoughts just as brightly as Savvy’s. Loneliness is my truth. It always has been.
My mouth distorts as tears freely fall.
Why wouldn’t Savvy have other, more normal friends? Why shouldn’t she have people she can talk to about the things that I can’t? She needs them because I can’t cover the gap. I cry into my thighs; long wails that have been boiling in reserve for months now. My fingers claw the tag on my arm. I want it to go off. I want to be summoned. I want to be wanted.
An overwhelming urge—alongside a rushing wave of shame—fills my heart, so as to replace my muffled sobs. Right now, I want Zein to summon me. I do. Even if the bastard never wants anything more from me than my blood and obedience, at least he wants mine. At least a part of me is wanted—needed—somewhere, more than everyone else. Realization coats my cynicism.
How could I possibly want him to summon me? After what he did to me last night?
But he held me afterwards… I shake my head.
Angrily, I lash out at the wall, damning it for being there, and bruising my knuckles in the process. I’ve never needed to be wanted so bad in my entire life. I can’t even find the gall to refute it. I want away from this place, from this cruel world of the seraglio. Running away might not be so hard on my conscience either now, since Savvy and Katarii—
I immediately stop the thought and sink further into the ground. I’m the worst.
Despite the conflicting desires, my tag doesn’t sound, and why would it? It’s my day off.
I’m alone.
✽✽✽
After I pull myself together and wash the redness from my face, I go to the workroom and instantly find Savvy. She lifts her gaze uneasily from her station but offers a small wave. She never changes, even when I expect her to. It’s one of the many things I love about her. I give her a half-hearted smirk and wave back. Katarii is beside her. She meets my gaze but then turns her head like she didn’t notice me, letting her raven-black hair fall in such a way as to eliminate all peripheral views as well. I fight down the biting edge of rejection.
All the stations are practically full now since breakfast ended almost two hours ago, so I’m forced to fill a scrubbing station on the laundry row, isolated from