Ash by Shani Petroff Page B

His dark blond hair was cropped close to his head. It was shorter than it had been when we’d dated. More befitting of his status as a Destiny Specialist. Although he still wore the faded lavender shirt I never liked. It was even more faded now—to the point that it had a tinge of ash. The handcrafted royal purple shirt I’d had Willa make him to replace it was still wrapped in my closet. Link had never spent money on clothes, or on anything really. Instead he donated his salary to his family. Even then, it was barely enough to counteract the tax Dax’s status cost them. I sighed. He wasn’t even bothered by having a Blank in the family. It was a good reminder of one of the many reasons we’d have never worked out. It didn’t bring me any comfort, though.
    Link looked up at that moment and locked eyes with mine. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to turn away, but instead I gave him a courteous nod. There were cameras everywhere, and I refused to have an awkward moment on record.
    “Madden,” Bas called, still standing next to his grandfather. “Come sit.” He combed his hair back with his hand and adjusted his purple tie. Not that there was any need. Bas was always immaculately dressed for any occasion.
    I made my way to my seat. Bas and his grandfather had moved from pleasant conversation to a heated debate on the latest Blank legislation that was held up in the Delegation—a group of appointed politicians chosen to represent each ring from New City and the other territories of the States. The Seven could eventually move the bill forward, but the Delegation might stall it for at least a few more months, or even years if they didn’t plan carefully.
    “Just overrule them,” Bas said, exasperated by what I assumed his grandfather’s explanation of policy was.
    Minister Worthington gestured to me. “I’m sure Madden could explain the political intricacies. At least someone here is up on their studies.”
    I hated when Minister Worthington put me in the middle of their family squabbles. Bas was always desperately trying to win his grandfather’s approval, and it didn’t help our relationship to be pitted against one another.
    “Gentlemen, today is about racing, not policy. Look at that track.”
    Minister Worthington gave a hardy laugh. “Right as usual, Madden. But my grandson here could use a lesson on the finer points of government. Do you mind switching places with me so Bas and I may continue our conversation?”
    I looked down the front row, careful to keep my anxiety from showing. Minister Worthington’s vacant seat was next to three additional empty ones, and I had a feeling I knew who would be taking them. “Of course not,” I said, and moved to my new seat, where I feigned interest in the screens floating outside the Box. They broadcast snippets from last year’s race.
    “Madden Sumner, is that you?”
    I did my best to keep the dismay from my face, instead twisting my lips into something I hoped would pass for a smile.
    “Mrs. Harris, how delightful to see you,” I responded to Link’s mother. My words sounded flat, and I couldn’t help but notice her yellow gown had two thin stripes of purple crossing one shoulder—a stripe for Aldan and another for Link. A little tacky, I thought, but by rights she had earned them.
    “You dear girl,” Link’s mom gushed. “We have absolutely missed you to bits. Isn’t that right, Bill?” Link’s father leaned around his wife.
    “Greetings my dear,” he said. “As the bard says, ‘How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.’”
    I’d never cared for Shakespeare and wasn’t interested in starting now. I nodded politely to Link’s father. “Very nice to see you again, Mr. Harris,” I replied.
    “Link?” Mrs. Harris called. “Link, come and tell Madden hello.”
    Link turned from the conversation he’d been caught up in. Our eyes met again, and I froze, caught up in his perfect face.