City of Never (City of Never Series Book 1) by Rachel Higginson

Author:Rachel Higginson [Higginson, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Reckless Siren Publishing
Published: 2022-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

I followed Zion into the next room that turned out to be a wide-open space, including a kitchen, dining room, and living area. The roof was supported by whitebark timbers, and most of the furniture was made of petrified wood. Big skylights made of muted glass squares dotted the arched ceiling. The hazy, gray light played off the white of the support beams and brightened up the entire space. Four other hallways branched off the living room, but I couldn’t see where they led.

Bannon and his people sat with Zion’s people at a massive whitebark table. Matching chairs and benches lined either side. They creaked beneath the weight of the men and the way that Shayla tipped backward in hers. A food spread like the one the night I had dinner with Hale and Keene lay on top, smelling like absolute heaven and looking nothing like the cloned food I had grown up on.

A twinge in my stomach told me not to hope, that it wasn’t even possible. But then Rexon scooped a big pile of mashed potatoes onto a metal plate and said, “Damn, I miss the real stuff when we’re stationed in the city.”

It couldn’t be real. Fruit and vegetable gardens existed in Pragma, but they remained with the wealthiest of the founding families. Even my father, when he’d been at the height of his military career, before he was Mayor-General, had only been able to give my mother a small herb garden that she tended to obsessively.

I felt Zion’s gaze on me, but I couldn’t tear mine from the food on the table. My mouth watered instinctively, and my stomach gurgled loudly. Bannon pulled a chair out from the table, indicating that we should sit down. But the table felt too sacred to approach. At any second, I knew someone would end the hologram or something, that this would all disappear, and my hopes would be dashed.

“Sit down already,” Bannon ordered gruffly. “Before you drool on the floor.”

Taking a tentative step forward, I finally looked at Zion for some instruction. He tilted his head at the seat next to Bannon and took his own next to the orange-haired woman who had helped welcome us. My stomach rumbled again as I sat down, the delicious, imperfect-looking meal spread out before me in all its mouth-watering glory.

“Finally,” Core groaned, picking up a bowl of dinner rolls and snatching one on top.

“Prayers first,” the woman said first. She raised a burnished eyebrow at Bannon.

Bannon nodded. “Heads down, ruffians.” There was a pause as everyone bowed their head and folded their hands together. “God, this bountiful meal is your gift to us. We do not take it for granted. Thank you for your provision, your blessing, and your protection. Show our guests the way. Amen.”

I blinked, realizing I had watched everyone without participating. My mother had made us pray before meals too. When I was younger. Memories I had forgotten drifted to the surface of my mind, wrapping me in heart-squeezing nostalgia.

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