Chapter 17 Clara
The silence remained unbroken as they walked, and Clara was relieved that Carver didn’t push to start a conversation.
She didn’t want him to keep probing into her past, and she didn’t want the flirtation to continue.
Well, she did, but that wasn’t fair or good.
They had to fulfill their assignment and then go their separate ways.
A flirtation would only break her heart again, and he didn’t get that privilege.
Her eyes darted across the scenery, and it was hard for her not to comment on how tall the trees were. How green everything was. Most of her missions had been within cities–high value targets: politicians, generals, anyone with enough power they needed to be taken out.
Though she was given missions, and often in charge of executions, her specialty was interrogations.
There wasn’t a single prisoner who thought she was capable of what she inflicted on them.
They underestimated her, but they quickly learned to look at her with fear.
What would Carver think of her if he knew?
She wasn’t weak anymore. No, she was worse. She was cruel.
The sun began its descent, and even the trees closest to the tracks started to blur together. “How close do you think we are?” Carver interrupted her running thoughts.
“We’ve kept up a good pace; we shouldn’t be far.” She stumbled over a branch and Carver reached out to steady her but she jerked her arm out of reach.
“Our theory about the town’s abandonment having to do with the war?”
“Yeah?” Clara watched her feet more carefully, unsure where he was headed with this question.
“Well, if the war had reached that far, this town we’re headed to is even closer to Noxvalis…” He trailed off and she quickly filled in the blanks.
“We have no idea what to expect. It could be abandoned like the town before, it could be occupied by enemy troops, could have been destroyed. This could be another small attack to fuel the feud, or the beginning of something bigger.”
“Exactly. We’ll see the edges of it soon, though the darkness will limit our vision.”
“What do we do if it is occupied by soldiers?” Clara didn’t like the hint of fear in her voice.
She didn’t like not having the answer. She didn’t like that she trusted Carver enough to give an answer, and to follow him.
She didn’t like the way she unconsciously shifted closer to him as if he could provide the comfort she needed.
She subtly stepped to the side giving herself more space. She was fully independent, she reminded herself.
His response was calm, “We’ll camp in the woods. Maybe steal some supplies in the morning. We’re not close enough to the festival to get away with our identities.”
“Makes sense.”
They fell back into their voiceless rhythm, footsteps and breaths staying even. Eventually Clara admitted, softly enough he leaned his head in her direction to hear, “I’ve never been undercover like this before.”
He stood straighter, and even in the twilight she could see the look of suspicion on his face. “Clara, everyone has heard the rumors that follow the ‘Eclipse.’ How is it you aren’t familiar with espionage and the roles played on assignment? You’ve never pretended to be someone else?”
She shook her head, her braid whipping across her back.
“They used me for in-house operations, primarily. That’s how I earned my reputation.
The assignments I was sent on were almost always high-level targets, and my job was to be in and out without anyone spotting me. No espionage, no interactions.”
“In-house operations?” He questioned.
Clara wondered what she could say to explain. How could she phrase it so she wouldn’t seem as much like the monster she had become? A monster he created by constantly doubting her. That wasn’t entirely fair, but she didn’t care.
“I helped them with…sensitive matters regarding prisoners.” At least, most of the time they were prisoners. One or two of the aristocrats had been placed under her purview as well.
“Sensitive matters,” he deadpanned, and she could feel his gaze tracking her.
“Don’t push it.”
“Okay…” he paused, and in that pause she feared everything he could ask her. Did you torture people? How many people have you killed? And a thousand offensive statements he could pin to her. But instead he said simply, “Is this you asking for my help in espionage?”
“No,” she replied way too fast and he immediately laughed at her. Her heart thundered, still waiting for her worst case scenario to play out. “Kind of?”
“You might want to make up your mind. Double mindedness doesn’t play well in intense situations.”
She huffed, “Yes, I’d like a few pointers.” She may be ahead when it came to actually killing people, but she didn’t know how to interact with them. At all.
“You have to get in the mind of the character you are playing. It’s all an elaborate ruse, right? The more you create a character and understand the inner workings of that character, the easier it is to become them.”
“Basically, it’s like a game?”
“Kinda, but it’s more complicated than that.
” He kicked a rock and it bounced across the ground a couple times before coming to a stop.
“You have to fully understand what you’re doing.
Think about it. People’s intentions aren’t always clear, but you can tell enough from their body language to understand the direction they’re heading.
Like I said with double mindedness, if you’re having to convince yourself to tell a lie, it’s a lot easier to pick up on than if you have already accepted the lie and are presenting your reality. ”
“Huh?”
“Basic psychology. Why do you think psychopaths and narcissists get as far in life as they do? They, at least in part, believe the reality they are selling to other people. It’s the same concept for our mission.
We are the people on the identity cards they gave us.
Our past aligns with that. How would those people act?
What would they think? That is who we have to become. ”
“Are you finally admitting you’ve always been a narcissist?” Clara tried to listen to the breakdown he gave her, but truthfully, she checked out after psychopaths and narcissists.
Carver exhaled loudly. “Ouch. I give you a whole explanation to try and help you and that’s your takeaway? What the hell, Clara, I was just trying to help.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”
“Did you learn anything from what I said? If we end up participating in the festival, you have to act…normal…” He cringed away from his last statement, and she assumed it was in preparation for her response.
“Normal?” She questioned, giving him a chance to correct his statement. She acted perfectly fine, thank you very much.
“Yeah, no offense, but you’re not exactly good at socializing.” Clara clenched her fists at her side to avoid smacking him across the face. I won’t break the rules; I won’t break the rules; I won’t break the rules.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Again, another opportunity for him to change his statement, and he would if he knew what was good for him.
“How many friends have you had in the last couple years? Do you go to parties? Do you talk to people regularly?” Anger welled in her chest. How dare he.
“I have friends.”
“Yeah? And are they nice to you? Are you nice to them? Would you confide in them?” She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he held up a hand, “My point is this. We’re supposed to be from Calyndor.
Girls from there aren’t usually trained warriors.
They laugh. They smile. They have a lightness about them that, quite frankly, you don’t have.
” His eyebrows drew together, and Clara didn’t appreciate how serious he looked.
“Wonder why.” If he wanted happy and carefree, maybe he should have made better decisions. Her heart ached as once again, that fateful day flashed before her vision.
“I’m sure there’s a million reasons why I don’t know. I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“Well, apparently you don’t have to try.” Another biting remark was all she could offer to keep from crying.
“Clara, that’s not—” His frustration bled through every word, but what right did he have to be frustrated?
She cut him off, “Just shut up. We’re approaching the town. Stay focused.”