50. Forty Seven
Forty Seven
Cecil
“What was it that you did differently?”
Eden sighs, looking at me pointedly. “I already told you. Nothing.”
We stand across from one another on the manor's overgrown grass, parallel to the long dirt driveway.
The sun peaks over the edge of the horizon and the morning air is chilled.
Creed is still asleep, Eden insisting that she not wake him.
His training will begin sometime around midday. Little Prince needs his beauty sleep.
After Sylvie attempted to cripple Eden, I decided that we’d continue our training at the house.
It wasn’t only for the safety of Creed and Eden.
With all the selflessness I had to give, I was doing it for Sylvie’s benefit as well.
Because if she ever laid a hand on Eden again, I’d have to go through with my promise of ending her life. That would have been a shame.
A week passed in a blink, and I seemed to be the only one on edge.
Eden and Creed were chummy as usual, chasing each other around the house and conversing over dinner.
There were moments here and there where I would catch her watching him longingly, like she missed him with mere inches between them.
She’s yet to tell him of her mother’s journal entry. At this point, I don’t think she will. Though I think it’s horseshit, there’s a part of me that feels guilt for knowing something that he doesn’t. But it’s not up to me, so I try not to think about it.
“I’m not saying it was a conscious decision, but something had to have been different. How did you feel?”
Eden looks at me with exasperation. “It felt like my wrist was going to break.” She motions down to her bound arm.
Veda swore up and down that it was hardly a sprain, but I still insisted it be wrapped in bandages.
Twice I’ve found Eden not wearing them, and twice I’ve demanded that she retrieve them and put them on.
When we first met, she was so frightened of me, she’d cower when I breathed in her direction. Now, she’s much more generous with her attitude.
Stepping close, I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Looking down my nose at her, her chin juts up in defiance.
“You’re being difficult on purpose.” Her eyes flick past me, avoiding my stare. “Why?”
She attempts to push me away, but I lock my knees and stand firm. With limited space to reply, she brings one hand up to sign, “I’m not.”
Her front teeth worry her lip, and like a kitten to a string, my attention hones in on the action. Raising my thumb an inch, I catch the skin and tug it free from her mouth.
“Tell me how you felt,” I insist. She huffs indignantly, but she doesn’t try to pull away.
“Anger,” she responds. The word pries my attention from her words to her eyes. The morning sun glints off the silver, making them appear metallic. There’s a hesitation in the slight furrow of her brow.
“Anger? Just anger?”
She nods.
I hum in consideration, looking off to the distance. Could that truly be the difference?
“And before? How did you feel the other times?”
Eden frowns, shrugs her shoulders. “Fear.”
Personally, the power of anger has always served me better than the power of fear. Backed into a corner, an animal will lash out irrationally. Thoughtlessly. But to be angry…
It’s safe to say I work best out of spite.
“Okay,” I nod. “We can work with that.” Before I drop my hand, I tug her chin up and press a quick kiss to her lips. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Once released, she gives me a dirty look, but there’s a whisper of a smile on her lips. In an effort to hide the blush that creeps up onto her cheeks, she dips her head.
Ambling to the edge of the field, I lift the old metal water bottle to my lips and drink deeply. The liquid tastes tinny as it fills my mouth, but soon I’ll be too thirsty to care.
Making my way back towards Eden, I unzip my jacket and toss it to the side.
Her eyes fall to my bare arms, throat bobbing on a swallow.
A smug smirk twitches on my lips. Fortunately for me, she’s covered head to toe.
Long pants and long sleeves ensure that my focus is perfectly intact.
It’s a lesson I learned on our first day training.
After one too many hours of working on her footwork, she complained of being hot and removed her sweater.
Beneath was a simple gray tank top, but it may as well have been the finest piece of lingerie money could buy.
I was quick to excuse myself and took a very uncomfortable shower. She’s reduced me to a teenage boy.
“This time, I’m not going to come after you. I want you to focus and see if you can move me back.”
Eden tugs at her sleeve, shifting on her feet. Her face is screwed up in concentration.
I bounce on my knees, widening my stance to brace myself. It’s only been a few days of trying to get her to throw me the way she did Sylvie, but each attempt has proved futile. Not only has she not moved me, she also refuses to make a peep. Well, ‘refuse’ is my word choice. Eden simply says,
“I can’t.”
A rumble sounds in my throat, but I shove down my aggravation the best I can.
“Come on, try to think of something that really pisses you off. Like… I don’t know. What did Sylvie say to you?”
She averts her gaze, rolls a shoulder.
“Okay. What about your dad? He was an asshole. Think of him.”
She nibbles at her lip, but makes no other movements.
“Eden. You have to be angry about something. Your life hasn’t been rainbows and roses—”
“I can’t.”
“You have to try. We’re running out of time—”
She stamps her foot soundlessly in the grass. “I know!” The outburst has me blinking in surprise. If only she would use that fury.
“So, what? You’re giving up because it’s hard?” My words aren’t angry, but they overflow with disappointment. I throw my arms helplessly to the sides.
A fire burns behind her eyes, but her fingers twitch with apprehension.
“I’d like to remind you that it was you who agreed to this training. I tried to stop you,” I say lowly, keeping my tone even and unaccusing.
“You promised I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone,” she shoots back.
My brows draw together.
“Is that what you think this is? I’m training you as some deadly weapon?”
She simply looks back at me as if to say, Isn’t it? My fight dissolves, and I’m suddenly very, very exhausted.
“I only want you to be able to protect yourself.” My fingers catch in my hair as I tug on the ends. “I’m not expecting you to go out as some soldier. No one is expecting that of you. I’ve made it perfectly clear what your role is.”
“Which is?”
My first reaction is to say the truth, which would be, “I have no fucking clue”, but I pause and think on it. There’s a beat of silence before I finally respond with,
“You’re one of us. That’s all.”
Eden still looks at me with unease, so I take steps forward until I can reach her hands. Folding one of hers into both of mine, I trace the pale blue veins beneath her skin. She pulls herself back, and a frown forms on my lips until she begins signing.
“I cannot hurt you.”
“It’s for practice. I’ll be fine—”
“You don’t understand. I’ve tried,” she insists, staring up at me imploringly. “It won’t let me. I think it’s because of…” Her lower lip falters, and she looks down at our feet. “What I feel for you.”
Despite my efforts to forget them, her words from the night on the beach slam into me.
My chest aches as I peer down at her. I heave out an exhale.
I really, really do not want to have this conversation.
It’s selfish of me, but it feels wrong. I don’t deserve it.
But I want it. And those two warring emotions take up too much real estate in a mind that is already being pulled in a thousand different directions.
“Okay,” I mutter. Her eyes snap to mine, overflowing with relief. “Okay. We’ll figure something else out.”
Spindly arms wrap around my waist, and the flyaway hairs on the top of Eden’s head tickle my chin as I rest it there.
“You don’t need to worry about me, ya know,” I mumble into the breeze.
Eden’s scoff is muffled by the fabric of my shirt. I can’t help but grin.