Chapter 26: Taran

I wake up still wrapped tightly in Diogo's embrace. His arms are so tight around me that, at first, I think he must be awake. But as I turn my head to look at him I realize he's still deeply asleep. His hands are big and warm against the bare skin of my arms and his breath is coming out in deep, even gusts, tickling the hair on top of my head.
I watch his face, tracing the hard lines with my gaze. We lay that way for long enough that the sunlight marks a path across the floor. I think it must be late afternoon, though I'm not sure. I decide that I've waited long enough for him to wake up, and he's not showing signs of doing that any time soon. I gently lift his arm, looking for any kind of response. When none comes, I slide out from under his grip and set his arm back down. As I crawl off the bed a slight frown mars his brow. I hold my breath, waiting for him to wake up, but he only rolls onto his back and throws an arm across his eyes.
I open the dresser and rifle through his clothes. I come up with another shirt with buttons all down the front. This one is blue. I put it on and button it up. At least if he keeps destroying everything that I wear, he'll just be tearing up his own clothes. I smile at the thought of him running out of shirts, forced to wander around the city bare-chested. None of the city women will complain.
I reach for the door and then hesitate. Last time I ran into one of his guys out in the main area, Diogo got pissed off. He doesn't like me showing skin around his men. I shrug it off and open the door, stepping out. Not my fault that the Warlord hasn't provided a decent wardrobe for his new wife.
I open the door and peek around. Garrett, or whoever might've replaced him, isn't lurking about. Hands on my hips, I ponder this development. For a guy that values security as much as Diogo does he's pretty bad at keeping an eye on his new wife. I could take off if I really wanted too and part of me thinks that's a fantastic idea. Not my slightly sore woman parts, or my full belly. But the part of me that knows this fairy tale won't end well. The dictator and the rebel? We have no future beyond a few stolen moments, despite what Diogo thinks.
Xavier wants me to stay. Thinks this is the perfect opportunity to plant a spy in the enemy camp. What Xavier is neglecting to realize is that Diogo isn't stupid. Driven, single-minded and brutal, but also incredibly intelligent. He knows that he's sheltering a rebel under his roof. Not just any rebel, but one completely invested in the cause. Diogo won't pass on any vital information, either by accident or on purpose, thinking I've somehow become loyal.
Oh well. I'll just make the most of my situation. Eat Diogo's food, enjoy some great sex and wear his clothes until I decide it's time to return to reality. Return to the slums of Sanctuary to pick back up where I left off. Unless the city policies change, I'll always have a purpose. There'll always be illegals clambering for food or looking for safe passage.
I decide to pass my time waiting for Diogo to wake up by exploring his home. Five minutes later I've found a locker, the food pantry again and the table. Apparently Diogo believes in sparse living. An interesting fact considering he's an elite and obviously has access to the better things in life. That he chooses to live like the less privileged is an interesting thought that I'll unpack later. For now, I sink down onto my knees in front of his locker and examine the lock. I'm certain that I can pick that lock in a heartbeat. I'm also pretty certain the locker contains weapons. The rifle he was wearing is no longer on the table, which means he must've gotten up after I'd fallen asleep and locked it away before coming back to bed. And I didn't notice any other place in his apartment where he keeps weapons. If I had, I probably would've shot him immediately after he first brought me up here.
Now that I'm less inclined to murder Diogo I decide to leave it for now. There's no point in tipping him off to my lock picking skills until absolutely necessary. I push myself off the floor, dust off my knees and move to the door I noticed earlier. I expect it to be locked, but it opens easily when I give it a shove.
Shaking my head, I go through the door and up a flight of stairs. "Honestly, Diogo. It's like you're inviting me to escape," I mumble to myself. Maybe he just really likes the chase. I grin, thinking about the devastating kisses he likes to bestow when he's pissed off.
My smile turns to astonishment as I step through the next door and onto the rooftop. My heart pounds and a rush of pure exhilaration sizzles through my veins when I realize that this is the best view of the city. Even better than the view from the wall, far better than the view from the abandoned buildings I like to climb. I walk to the edge of the roof and pull myself right up on top of the ledge, standing on my toes so I can get the best view of the city I possibly can. Breathtaking is an understatement. I can see the wall curved out around the edges of the city, its metal branches sticking out here and there. It should be ugly. It represents oppression and death. Yet it's also somehow beautiful. Just like everything else, shrubs and vines are slowly encroaching up the sides of the monstrosity, claiming it. Long after we're gone nature will take it back completely. Dismantle it and drag it back down to the Earth as though it never existed.
I stand with my legs wide and my arms stretched out, my gaze wandering the city below, taking in the buildings, the checkpoints, the people. From up here it looks like a kingdom, dying and flourishing at once. I can understand why Diogo has chosen this building as his home. It isn't just the power of symbolic placement, he loves to watch his kingdom. Clock in the workings and plan his next move. Probably clear his mind like I'm doing now.
With a sigh, I drop down off the ledge and back onto the rooftop. I flinch as a rock bites into my bare foot. I'll have to mention shoes to my negligent husband when he finally rolls out of bed. I wander around the roof, exploring. I find a cot and smile knowingly. He probably sleeps up here when the weather permits, stretching out beneath the stars. Though I don't know him well yet, I sense a solitary spirit, a man who craves freedom as much as I do. Only he chooses to control the world around him in order to achieve what he thinks is freedom, while I escape the cage to fly free for a few hours at a time.
I gasp in surprise when I realize that what I thought was a shed is actually a greenhouse. I touch the glass panels that run the length of it, awe making my touch extremely gentle. Nowadays windows are made of cobbled together sand, which is blasted with high heat. Very few actual glass panes still exist. Yet Diogo somehow got his hands on enough to create a greenhouse.
I pull the door open, once more shaking my head at his carelessness. Does the man lock anything besides his weapons? He needs to work on his priorities. Most people have access to some kind of weapon, but not everyone has a greenhouse. They're so rare, in fact, that I would think he should have a full-time guard on this one. Of course, it's unlikely anyone knows it's up here. Except for Diogo, and now me.
I step through the door and into the humid environment within. Looking around I realize what care he's taken with these delicate buds. Probably growing them from seeds into beautiful, full plants. As I wander the short rows I try to guess at what I'm seeing. Fresh tomatoes, cucumber, some other things I don't recognize. Herbs, I think. We have community gardens to help sustain food rations, but the plants tend to be specifically bred for hardiness and desert living. Water is carefully rationed and there isn't much left over for the gardens. Apparently Diogo lives by a different set of rules.
Tentatively I reach out and rub the leaf of a tomato plant, avoiding the big, juicy looking red bulbs. I don't want to accidentally knock one down and ruin it. I bring my fingers to my nose and inhale the aromatic scent My mouth waters and tears spring to my eyes.
I'm about to sink my face into the plant to take in as much of the delicious fragrance as I can when I hear a tiny chirp. I think it must be coming from outside but then it happens again, and I hear the flutter of wings. My heart pounds as I trace a path to the very back corner of the greenhouse, steeped in shadows. There, up high on a shelf, I discover a bird's next. Sitting on the edge, looking at me suspiciously, is a tiny desert wren. Her feathers are ruffled and she's eying me angrily. I realize she must have eggs in her nest.
"Are you trapped, darling?" I ask her, searching all around. Then I see it, a small section where a pane of glass is missing. There's plastic covering most of it, maintaining the integrity of the humid interior of the greenhouse, but with just enough space for a small bird to fly in and out of.
A splash hits my hand and I jump. I bring a hand up to my face as I realize I was startled by my own tears. I didn't know I was crying. The beauty of the greenhouse and the little bird has shaken me. What does Diogo see when he comes in here, when he shares this space with the wren? Why did he keep her, a bird that shares the same name as his elusive rebel enemy? He's provided Sanctuary for her, a safe place to hatch her chicks. Yet she's still trapped. That window can be closed at any time, on the whim of a Warlord.