“Well, I don’t want to talk about it.” Sylah moved into a low lunge, stretching her calf muscles.
“We had a deal.”
“Talking about my life wasn’t part of the deal, in fact, it was the opposite, Anoor.” Her leg went up against her head in a high stretch.
“This was.” Anoor held the joba seed between her finger and thumb.
Sylah’s leg thudded to the ground.
“Where did you get that?”
“I found it in the dress pocket of your uniform.”
“Why were you rummaging through my clothes?”
“I was cleaning. I was upholding my end of the bargain. Besides, the real question is why did you have it in the first place?”
Sylah growled; her leg had started to spasm from the rage roiling in her blood.
“You know the deal. No seeds. You agreed, Sylah.”
Sylah leaned on the wall for support.
“I can’t believe you’ve been doing them this whole time.”
“I haven’t.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Anoor gesticulated with the seed.
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay, well, you won’t mind if—”
“Don’t.”
Anoor crushed the joba seed between her forefinger and thumb. The juice painted her hand crimson.
Sylah was the husk left behind. Her knees almost gave way beneath her, but her anger held her up. Knowing the seed was there and not taking it was Sylah’s biggest accomplishment each day. And now it was gone.
“What did you just do?”
“Joba seeds are disgusting. Only Nowerks take them.”
“Don’t you dare use that word.” It was almost a whisper. The word tugged on something feral inside her. A wild anger that was about to burst out.
“What?” Anoor stepped back, confused by the direction of the conversation.
“What makes you any different from them? Huh?” Sylah stepped forward into the gap Anoor had made between them. “You think Embers don’t take joba seeds? You think I haven’t seen them in the maiden houses and the taverns? They try and hide their status, but we all know, they don’t have the brand that sets Dusters apart, they don’t have the scars that Ghostings bear.”
“More Nowerks die from joba seed abuse than anything else.” Anoor was defensive, and it riled Sylah up more.
How could the girl be so naive?
“Stop saying that word,” Sylah growled, and Anoor flinched. “Why do you think more die, Anoor?”
She didn’t answer, too scared probably. Good. She should be scared, she was in the den of the predators. Sylah might have forgotten it for a time, grown comfortable almost, but now in the face of Anoor’s blind ignorance Sylah felt the fear and forged it into anger. It was what the Sandstorm were trained to do, and Sylah felt Papa’s presence in the room as she spoke.
“Dusters and Ghostings can’t afford the teeth whitening that the Embers use. They can’t afford the verd leaf tea I drink every day to aid the withdrawal. They aren’t given the education to understand the dangers of the drug. No one cares to tell them, to help them. And who is it that elevates the joba tree, keeps planting them around the empire? Have you thought about that? Who benefits the most from a drug that decimates half the population and keeps them placid?”