Chapter 14
Carver sat down without another comment.
She was absolutely ridiculous. She was right, but ridiculous.
How they ended wasn’t his fault. At least not entirely.
She never should have followed him to the army.
That’s where it all started. If she had just stayed.
Stayed with her mom. Stayed safe. Stayed away from him.
He was the one with something to prove. He was the one with a chip on his shoulder.
The war had taken his father, and as a consequence his mother.
One of his father’s best friends, who became Carver’s mentor, drafted him in long before he officially signed up.
He could still see the shock on Clara’s face when he told her he had enlisted.
Tears filled her eyes immediately, but she was too kind to respond with anger in the moment.
Anger came after the news fully processed and she didn’t speak to him for almost a week.
They lived on the same property, yet she wouldn’t deign to acknowledge him.
When the week was over, she came back with an entirely new attitude. Things were back to being good. He loved her, told her so, and told her once basic training was over for him, he would propose. He bought a ring the week before basic training, and stored it with his clothing the day he left.
He never expected to see her in the line up. The first day of basic was mostly paperwork; men and women were separated. Clothing was issued, rooms were assigned. It was strategic, and preparation for the difficult training about to ensue.
Day 2, they lined up and met their commanders and training groups.
Training groups included men and women, and somehow, whatever form of fate existed put Clara in his group.
He almost screamed at her there and then.
She wouldn’t look at him. She held her head high, and the look of utter confidence was one he’d never seen her wear. Damn her stubbornness.
Even then, he thought it would be a matter of time before she dropped out. But she had done something he never expected of her. She not only survived, she thrived.
Carver pulled out his own journal, and jotted down some of these thoughts.
The train car lurched and he cursed under his breath as his pen slid across the page leaving an ugly line behind.
He noticed Clara stand out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t look as she stretched.
Watching her would not help his thoughts be more constructive.
He kept writing, losing himself in the words. When the train rolled to a stop, he was surprised by how much time actually passed. Like habit, the door was opened, and Clara hopped off without comment.
He got off long enough only to get food, and then resumed his writing. It helped bring some clarity to the thoughts he had too often. He hated this war–hated what it had taken from him. His father, his mother, Clara. Everything he loved, taken from him because of Noxvalis.
Noxvalis was more scientifically advanced than Quorath, and they desired world domination. They remained peaceful only to the kingdoms that were as advanced as them, or offered a trade they couldn’t resist. It was people from these kingdoms that would attend the festival.
The kingdom of Calyndor, for example, had offered one of the royal daughters in marriage to the prince of Noxvalis—cementing the alliance between the two kingdoms. The girl was queen now.
She married in only months before the prince succeeded his father.
It was all political, all about power. And he hated it.
He glanced up, and since Clara wasn’t back to the train yet decided he should read the note from Command.
“Carver -
As usual your mission is to retrieve the item. It is labeled DF23, and should be a bright purple color. Intelligence tells us there are 10 vials, and it is vital all 10 are retrieved. You run point on this mission. Clara will have your back.
You will enter the city together, as instructed. You’ll find rings in the bottom of your bag to complete the husband and wife ensemble.
Command”
No mention of the previous mission. As a spy, he was never supposed to see the intel he collected.
On the last mission, a single piece of paper fell out on his return.
It shouldn’t have been damning. He shouldn’t have read it.
He didn’t read it–not fully. His eyes just glanced over the page long enough to see “creatures” and “bioengineering.”
His mistake was asking Command if they ever heard of “creatures.” Their response was a blatant dismissal, followed by, “If you want to keep your position, we suggest you follow the rules, Operative.” They knew.
Nate confirmed it later, and Carver waited for weeks to find out if he would be punished.
Now, he was here.
Clara got back on the train only a few minutes before the door was closed, and he hastily folded the note and shoved it in his bag. She would hate that he was the one in charge of this mission. She would hate the rings even more.
He didn’t think she would speak at first, but once the train chugged to a start, she did. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But it does. We agreed to trust each other enough for the purpose of this mission. I shouldn’t have been a bitch to you.
Not to mention, I came a little too close to breaking one of the rules.
” She said the last part with a gentle smile, and he knew he had to offer what she was looking for, regardless of how he felt about it.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry; we’re good.” None of it felt true, but she didn’t question his sincerity.
She nodded. “What were you writing?”
My feelings about you. My feelings about this mission. All of the feelings I’m not supposed to freaking have. I’m trying to figure out if this is my punishment from Command. But he wouldn’t say that. So he just shrugged the question off. “Writing helps me think.”
“Drawing does the same for me.” It felt like mutual ground–a thin line of connection he was terrified to break. An admission from both of them. So basic, and yet for them it was a massive step.
“How are you feeling about the assignment? We’re getting closer.”
“Yeah. This is our last day on the train. They’re supposed to drop us in the closest city we can travel to, right?”
“I think so.”
She stood, back to her stretching. This time, he decided to join her. “This isn’t at all what I expected when I was called into Command.”
“Nor I.” He agreed.
“You’ve done a list of assignments for Command before, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but never with someone. They were always intelligence based. In and out. Just me. I work best alone.”
“Hey, thanks.”
He sighed, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Sureee. I think you’re enjoying my company more than you’re willing to admit.”
She bent down to touch her toes, facing away from him. He looked away, you have no idea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The train lurched suddenly, and Clara lost her balance, crashing into him.
He managed to catch her before she hit the wall, and stood there awkwardly with her in his arms. Her hair smelled familiar, even better than he remembered, and he resisted the urge to pull her against his chest the way he would have before.
Instead he held his arms out aloft, providing her the security she needed to regain her balance, but not holding her.
She quickly got her footing back, her cheeks pink from the encounter, “Sorry,” she murmured stepping away from him.
“Breaking the rules, I see.” He teased.
She glared at him, “That wasn’t my fault.”
“I know. But it’s fun to tease you all the same.”
“I swear I wasn’t trying to break the rules.”
Carver paused at the defensive tone in her voice, “I know,” he emphasized. “That’s why it’s funny. If you were intentionally breaking the rules, we’d have a different conversation.”