Page 202 of The Harbinger
Luck would have nothing to do with me, and damnation reigned supreme around here.
“We will feast, we will drink, we will dance. And only then will we celebrate our new beginnings.” The diverse crowd cheered him on with respectable claps of praise.
“Da zdravstvuyet appetit.”
“Long live your appetite. Orbon appetit.”
Sacha clapped quietly, and I copied him, letting my fingertips tap against my palm in the sweetest form of mockery.
“What are we eating?”
“You’ll see. It’s a delicacy.”
I groaned as Nikolai leaned around Ruslan and addressed Sacha in Russian. I took hold of my glass once more and sipped it, wishing the clear liquid were something stronger that could lighten the tension in my chest.
Men and women in black-on-black uniforms sashayed out with trays in their hands, their faces covered with white plastic human masks, making them all appear as one, each one no different than the last.
“That’s frightening.”
“They are servants in training. In order to keep ourselves unbiased, they cover their faces. Only then are they judged on their merits instead of their family.”
“Judged for what?”
“Their worthiness to join the church.”
“Wait,” I paused, gnawing on my lip. “You aren’t just born into it?”
He shook his head. “Each one is given a task of servitude, and if they pass, they can join.”
“Like a frat house at a college?” I hiked a brow. How did I know that but not the rest of my history?
“Not really.”
A man and woman placed trays on the table before us, leaving the covers in place, concealing whatever lay beneath.
Then, with ading, the lids were lifted, and my stomach churned. The head of a little piglet stared back at me, its eyes closed. A slice of apple had been shoved into its mouth, and its skin was shriveled and cracked, the color of a setting sun.
I covered my mouth and averted my gaze toward Sacha, nearly burying my face in his chest.
“Haven’t you seen a suckling pig before?”
“God, Sacha.” I exhaled with disgust. “This is a delicacy?”
Ruslan cleared his throat, stabbed his fork into the piglet on his tray, and then transferred it onto his plate like a heathen.
I was by no means a vegetarian or whatever the other meatless dietary choice was, but this was plain foul. Who wanted to see the face of the food they ate on their table? “I can’t eat that.” I breathed through my nose and nearly choked on the scent of roasted pork.
Sacha touched my cheek, then gently lifted my head off his shoulder. “There are other things to choose from.”
He covered the little piglet’s face with the lid, and I let out a breath. They’d filled the table with an abundance of grapes, rare fruits with pink skins and white flesh that added a splash of color to the otherwise dull scene.
I straightened up in my chair, speared a few grapes with my fork, then loaded my plate with the remaining fruits and vegetables, including some crackers I spotted on Sacha’s plate.
“Now that your plate is full of children’s food, would you like to tell me a little about yourself,” Ruslan said as he cut into the pig’s belly, then forked the stringy meat into his mouth.
I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts, but they kept slipping away like sand through my fingers. How did I explain to this man I barely knew that I couldn’t remember my past or even my own name until recently? The fruit in my mouth tasted like sawdust as I struggled to find the words.
“Try the fish, Mia,” Nikolai suggested, his voice dripping with a subtle hint of persuasion. “I have a feeling you’ll like it.”