"I agree." He cast her a satisfied smile.
"I meant this." She waved a hand over the pathway. "Sunday afternoon in the village, with people just living their lives. No one running from anything, no one looking over their shoulder. It feels almost surreal. Utopian."
Din's palm moved from her back to capture her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "The castle in Scotland and its surrounding grounds are even more serene than this."
She tilted her head. "Do you like it better there?"
"That's a definite no." He laughed. "The castle is drafty, the plumbing and electrical systems are iffy, and we get rooms, not even apartments."
Fenella frowned. "Then how do you prepare your meals?"
"We have a dining hall, and we eat together, which is easy and practical until you get tired of the same cyclical menu and want something different, but it's an hour and a half drive to the nearest restaurant."
"I wouldn't mind communal meals. Atzil cooks not just for Kalugal but for all his men, and they all eat together. I think it's nice. It creates a sense of community."
Din chuckled. "And now their boss also treats them to after-dinner whiskey and cigars in his smoking lounge. I bet no one wants to quit their employment."
"Atzil has only good things to say about Kalugal." She turned to look at Din. "What did you boys talk about during your manly bonding time in the lounge? Besides comparing the size of your cigars, that is."
Din chuckled, but then the amusement slid off his face. "Kian's worried. More than worried, actually. He thinks the Brotherhood is winning, that we don't have the resources to counter their influence effectively."
"Well, that's cheerful." Fenella tried to keep her tone light, but unease crept up her spine. If someone as powerful as Kian was worried, what chance did the rest of them have?
"He actually said we need a miracle," Din continued. "I've never heard him sound so defeated. He was always the rock everyone depended on. I mean, we have Sari in Scotland, and she is great, but she's not a military gal. She's not exposed to the things Kian is."
"So, what did you do? Pat him on the back and pour him more whiskey to console him?"
"Actually..." Din rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I made a few suggestions to counter the pessimism. An alternative, more optimistic approach."
That was interesting. "Do tell."
As they walked, Din explained his idea about countering the Brotherhood's influence not through cultural manipulation, but by fostering hope and unity instead of just fighting against despair and division. It was idealistic, maybe even naive, but Fenella was charmed by his earnestness.
"The last thing I expected from you was such optimism," she said when he finished. "I thought you were the brooding academic type, all doom and gloom about humanity's failure to learn from history."
"I surprised myself," Din admitted. "Usually, I'm not a glass-half-full type of guy, but someone had to counteract Kian's gloom and inject some hope into the conversation. When everyone's convinced the situation is hopeless, that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy."
"Look at you, being all wise and philosophical." She squeezed his hand. "Though I have to admit that it's a bit naive, which is a funny thing to say about someone who's lived as long as you have and seen enough crap to sour them on humanity forever."
"Maybe that's exactly why I can still hope," Din said. "I've seen humanity at its worst, but I've also seen it emerge from those depths time and again and climb higher than it was before. Sometimes things have to become truly desperate before people rise against the tide of evil, but they always do. The Brotherhood wins when we forget that resilience, that capacity to fight for what's right."
There was something both beautiful and heartbreaking about Din's faith in humanity's better nature, especially when contrasted with her own hard-won cynicism.
When they reached Shira's house, Fenella knocked just to be sure and then opened the door a crack, peeking inside and sniffing. "No coffee smell and no television noise in the background. It seems like no one's home." She turned to Din and smiled. "Good news all around. Shira is not home, and we have plenty of time before my shift. The bad news is that I'm going to have to tell Atzil that I'll be leaving soon for Egypt. He's not going to be happy."
Din's hands settled on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Don't worry about Atzil. He works for Kalugal, remember? He won't hold it against you, and he will take you back as soon asyou return. I bet his bar never made as much money as when you were there."
"You might be right, but I wish I had more time to settle into my job." She stepped into the cool interior of the house. "I felt in my element for a change. I…"
The words died in her throat as Din kicked the door shut behind them and lifted her clean off her feet. Before she could do more than gasp, her back was against the wall, Din's body pinning her there as his mouth found hers in a kiss that made their public display seem chaste by comparison.
"Professor," she chuckled when he let her up for air, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist for balance. "What's gotten into you?"
"You," he said, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made her stomach flip. When his lips found her throat, she had to bite back a moan. "Everything about you drives me to distraction," he murmured.
"Oh, my. You are such a sweet talker," she accused, but her hands were already working at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin.
"Truth teller," he corrected, carrying her down the hallway toward her bedroom with an ease that never failed to thrill her. Immortal strength was a beautiful thing when properly applied.
