Chapter 7
Ford
“No, I am not in a bad mood,” I barked, my tone betraying any sort of credibility I had.
Soren’s eyebrow lifted an inch higher, so much so I was debating mentioning that it was in danger of disappearing into his hairline, but then he’d probably take a swing at me and then he’d really see me in a bad mood.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I muttered in acquiescence, needing to give him something to go on or else I was going to be subject to questions I didn’t want to answer.
"Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t,” Soren shot back, and my fist curled in preparation to snap it across his shit eating grin.
I hadn’t lied. I hadn’t slept a wink.
The entire ride back from the barn, Esme had spoken to me in sterile sentences, cleanly detailing the slip of fabric she’d found, the figures she saw disappearing into the night, and every other microscopic observation that she’d gleaned in the span of two minutes.
She’d spent several minutes slowly walking me through how what she’d seen pointed to the conclusion that the Prince had been there. That she didn’t want to betray Roger, but that he clearly had a closer relationship with Elijah or the Prince than he’d disclosed.
All things I’d surmised when she’d told me what she’d seen, and only strengthened by the trust I had in her.
Trust, I thought with a chuckle of disbelief. I would never lose my trust in her wit and her skills, but my trust in her emotional state was shattered.
It was why I’d doubted that she simply just had that much to share with me over the course of our ride back to the camp, and instead was tempted to believe that she’d been rambling to avoid any further conversation with me.
The camp was quiet when we got back, it being the dead of night and all, and we didn’t want to draw attention for sneaking out, so we’d cleaned up Sky and Shadow then made our way back to our tent in utter silence.
Silence used to be something I’d say we were good at, comfortable enough with each other that we didn’t feel the need to speak if we didn’t have something to say.
Comfortable was nowhere near an apt descriptor for our dynamic. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
Esme barely took two seconds to drop her stuff back into the tent before she was running off to the creek to cool off.
I didn’t know whether it was everything that had transpired or how much was left unsaid, but while I watched her walk away, there had been a solid tug in my midsection that almost sent me stumbling after her.
When she came back, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold water, I swapped with her, suddenly craving a dip in the frigid river.
She was asleep, or at least appeared to be, by the time I got back, and I’d spent the rest of the night wide awake, listening to her breathing, and wondering where I’d fucked up.
There were several moments over the course of the night where I genuinely thought I was about to be sick. My system was breaking down along with my worldview, threatening to crumble while I readjusted to everything I’d learned over the past twelve hours.
“Well, I didn’t get any sleep either,” Soren said, bringing me back into focus. I’d forgotten he was standing there.
I groaned loudly, knowing what he was alluding to. “Please don’t. I’ve already heard enough. You two aren’t as subtle as you think.”
Soren barked a thoroughly pleased laugh, and an ugly part of me flinched in a jealous reaction over the strength of his relationship with Bellamy. “That was not what I was referring to, though accurate. I’ll withhold details so I don’t offend your sensitive ears.”
I almost smiled, almost. I was too deep in my bad mood to actually find humor in his words.
“I was referring to the fact that this war might be taking a very, very different turn,” Soren finished.
I grumbled out a sound of assent. At the beginning of this war, things were much more violent. A large part of that violence was Vir’s fault, part of an incredibly misguided attempt at dick-swinging in the form of offensive maneuvers out into the surrounding towns.
It had been a disaster, in no large part to the fact that harming innocents torpedoed morale and wasted resources.
Our overlords back on Vir still pushed that tactic every so often, but unluckily for them, there was enough resistance from the Muli-bound soldiers that we’d scaled back to a more defensive position starting a couple years after I’d enlisted.
The war itself had grown cold, turning us more into guards of the Bridge than soldiers. Fine by me.
Every time someone tried to get testy, lives were lost. Though protecting innocents (and that depended on who the people in power deemed innocent) was an easy thing garner support for.
I wasn’t bloodthirsty, craving revenge. For those who preyed on others, who thrived off violence—fate would come for them eventually. Even then, I had a short list of people I’d like to direct fate right at, hopefully in the form of a knife to the chest.
As if in answer, the scar slashing down my face started buzzing with memories.
Memories I needed to shove away until I was ready to examine them, to figure out how they played a part in Esme’s secrets.
“Very likely,” I muttered, letting my eyes scan over the camp below us.
Soren had found me up here, helping in the effort to split apart the rock that had fallen over the Bridge.
The force of my strikes had apparently scared away everyone in a ten foot radius, and when someone had seen Soren up and about, they’d had him come interrupt me.
“You and Bellamy realize you’re going to have to go full-blown diplomat, don’t you? ”
Soren scoffed in the back of his throat, and that reaction was the very reason I’d brought up his newfound role.
When he’d been drafted at nineteen—forced into this war by Bellamy’s father in a manipulated draft of the Royal children—he’d adapted quickly to his new life, seemingly happy to get away from the fluff and frills.
It was a cruel, yet ultimately kind, twist of fate to have his Soul Mate not only be the daughter of the man who had stolen his future, but Vir’s favored princess—one who was likely to have an incredibly active political future.
“I’ll do what I need to,” Soren said a moment later. “Not just from necessity, but also because I find I don’t mind my Royal duties now that I have a partner in them.”
This time, I didn’t try to restrain my annoyed grumble. Soren barked a laugh in return, clapping a hand over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t try to at least talk to you about this,” he said, his fingers pressing into the muscle of my shoulder in a show of comfort.
“You knew,” I responded, not intending it to sound as much of an accusation as it did.
Soren didn’t even flinch. “I did. Not the full story, and not since the beginning. I found out when she rescued you, and knew it wasn’t my place to say anything.
Bellamy hasn’t told me what her and Esme discussed yesterday, but I imagine she had a way of suppressing the Bond on her end.
I tried, and lasted all of a month before I wanted to—”
Soren cut himself off abruptly and I felt like I might be sick again. With an audible swallow, he restarted. “I didn’t enjoy keeping it from you, but it wasn’t my story to tell.”
“I respect you more for keeping your big mouth shut about it for five years,” I said, trying to bring some levity into the conversation even though there wasn’t a light bone in my entire body. “I’m honestly impressed.”
Soren laughed, the sound expanding towards the end, like his smile had widened over it. I tracked the line of his sight and found Bellamy at the other end of it, speaking to Esme.
The second Soren looked at her, her eyes shot up to hold onto his. Not a moment later, no, the actual second that intangible pressure landed, she felt it and knew it was him.
Shifting my gaze away and towards Esme, I found her doing the same, just in reverse. Following where Bellamy’s gaze was pointed, then to Soren. She had to have known I was standing here, but instead of looking at me, she trained her eyes to the ground.
My eyes narrowed, my hold on her form deepening. Even this far away, I could have sworn the muscle in her cheek twitched, as if her body was telling her to look at me, but her mind refused.
I wanted to take the sledgehammer in my hand and put it through my skull.
I settled for watching her. I could see out of my peripheral vision that Bellamy was approaching us, and Esme nodded in return at something she’d said.
Fuck it, I was letting myself stare. I could have described her with such unerring accuracy an artist could have replicated her likeness perfectly, but I’d never just looked.
Never allowed myself to. It had always felt wrong, when there wasn’t a Bond between us.
Now, I didn’t have the same resolve, knowing that she’d probably read it as me trying to get a rise out of her now that I knew what secrets she’d been keeping.
That was probably what my motivations should have been, but it didn’t seem quiet true.
My muddled thoughts notwithstanding, my eyes were firmly locked on Esme.
The soft smile that she gave Bellamy as she walked towards us, that line at deepened at the edge of her lips making an appearance. In the morning light, the soft brown of her hair shone like a river after a storm.
Despite everything, she stood proud and tall, agility and strength obvious in every little movement.
In her athletic tank top, those long arms of hers were on full display, exposing smooth skin I’d never really touched.
Skin I knew was dotted in tiny dark marks, not quite freckles, but something unique to her.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, irritation and something darker formed at the realization that I could only catalog those marks on her arms, plus a few on her upper chest and back.
So much of that area was covered by our Mark, the snake that delicately curved around her arm and shoulders, ending at some point on her left hip I’d only ever seen in small glimpses, but never the skin surrounding.