Chapter 13 #3
“Yes,” Soren responded, and I shot him a hard look when I realized he was holding back a smile while looking at me. He could fuck off. His smile dropped, which I thought was a fine testament to my ability to spark fear in his heart.
Bellamy picked up where Soren trailed off, trying to figure out if I was serious about killing him.
“It’s not a surprise he asked. He is well aware of the high-ranking soldiers out here,” she said, with an almost…
calming tone to her voice. And looking straight at me.
“He probably just wanted the best of the best to serve as our body guards.
I forced a laugh through my nose, trying to seem jovial, before getting distracted by Esme.
Her fingers were tapping on the table, not unlike typing over a keyboard, stringing together letters only she could see.
You should get her something to write with. Or her glasses. Don’t make her strain herself.
Just then, Peter walked by the table, stopped, then redirected.
“I know that look,” he muttered to Esme.
“Oi, Dulik!” he barked at the captain like he was calling on a dog, an image that threatened to make me smile.
Whatever humor I’d felt was promptly wiped off my face when Peter said, “Grab Prescott a piece of paper.”
Oh, so HE can get her what she needs? The Bond nearly shrieked, then fell into a series of angry snarls when Dulik approached. Lucky for him, he kept his normal leering to a minimum, just stopping by for a second, or else I was pretty sure I’d find a way to blind him with that paper.
Peter followed him, only breezing by for a moment, and yet doing more for Esme than I’d done all day. It wasn’t the fact that he did it or some weird sense of competitiveness. It was simple anger at myself, at the fact that I knew exactly what Esme needed, but hadn’t acted on those instincts.
Bellamy and Freya were looking at something off to the side, small smiles in place, likely from some young soldiers messing around. Esme was scribbling, nothing legible, just doing something with her hands to help focus her mind.
Soren, meanwhile, was looking at me with a too-observant stare and a shit eating grin.
I shot him a look back that said, What?
Soren grin widened, but stayed silent. The only hint he gave was the way his eyes dropped to my folded hands on the table, before turning to his Soul Mate and taking an obvious sniff of her hair.
I followed his gaze down to my hands, finding nothing amiss other than bone-white knuckles.
Esme, thankfully, was distracted, lest she read into anything and pull away again. Her gaze remained unfocused, and she started to speak without checking to see if anyone was paying attention.
I was, and everyone else got it together quickly.
“We have to take the Prince up on his offer, clearly. We know shockingly little about the inner workings of Muli life. There has to be something there, something we can use.”
“They certainly owe us a little show of kindness,” Soren quipped, then his voice filled with ire. “I guess we’ll have to make it clear that we won’t retaliate and try to murder anyone blah, blah, blah.”
“Darling, I think that’s just you,” Bellamy said with a smile, placing her hand over Soren’s. Though they were both finding humor in the situation, I knew Soren was still working through the lingering emotion of finding Bellamy bleeding out in a field.
Just the slightest bit of attention given to that thought, and the Bond sent a wave of panic so intense through my body, I thought my heart might stop.
Then, with no consideration that I was in public, had a Soul Mate who was not welcoming attention, nor any care for my own life, the Bond added with a grumble, You think that’s bad? Imagine how it feels when you’re actually in danger.
Esme, none the wiser to how close I was to dragging her into a room and making her relay every detail of how she’d rescued me in some twisted attempt at masochism, continued, “We’ll just need to play it right.
If we make it too public, it may come across as a willingness to surrender and they’ll make another attempt at us. ”
“They still don’t know we made it back across—presumably.” Esme’s eyes shot up when I spoke, hearing something in my voice. I held her gaze, refusing to be the first one to look away. She lasted about five seconds before blinking and turning towards the rest of the group.
Five seconds was progress. Yesterday it was more around two or three.
“Peter will have something to say about this, surely,” Bellamy said. “But you’re right. We should go. Pull focus away from the camp and let them regain their bearings quicker, use the benefit of the hidden Bridge to make sure we’re well prepared. Maybe pry some information out of Carson.”
With a few nods, the conversation moved quickly into the mundane—a skill borne from years of having to compartmentalize.
I’d never been as good as the others at it. It had taken me a full year at the beginning to sit through a meal listening to people talk about nothing without wanting to scream.
A fact that was clear now, obvious in how much effort I had to expend trying to participate in the conversation instead of brooding about the dangers to come and the role Esme and I would have to play.