Chapter 21 Clara
Now he knows what a monster I am. She thought, but there was a relief in that knowledge.
Now he could stop pretending that he had to be any kind of chivalrous or take care of her.
Regardless of what he claimed his motivations to be until this point, between bringing her a key, dragging a mattress in, and everything else, she knew he was attempting to protect her and she hated it.
She hated that he still saw her as defenseless, weak.
Carver’s silence seemed to stretch into eternity, and though she wanted to fill the gap, she had done enough.
It wasn’t until they reached a clearing, and paused to stretch and survey their surroundings that he responded.
“I,” she looked up, almost startled as he cleared his throat.
“I don’t know what to say.” Clearly. “I’m sorry that you went through all of that. ”
Somehow, it wasn’t what she expected to hear him say and his apology unlocked fury within her. “You’re sorry? You weren’t the one who asked me to put a bullet in a man’s head.”
“No, but I am sorry—”
“Carver, you don’t owe me an apology. For anything. I am not your responsibility.” Ah, that’s where the anger was coming from. Even now, he was still trying to protect her, still claiming her as his responsibility. Hadn’t he figured out by now that she didn’t need him?
“I didn’t say you were, I just meant—”
“Just stop it! Stop trying to explain what you meant! I don’t care about your good intentions.
We’re getting too close to the line and it has to stop.
Far too close. Okay? It has to stop. We’re not friends.
I shouldn’t have told you any of that. We are, at best, partners in this assignment only, and that has to remain our focus. ”
“Can you not interrupt me just one time?” He matched her intensity without matching her volume, “I’m allowed to be sorry that you had to murder someone without it meaning anything more than I think it’s an awful thing to have to do!
If you had told me your friend, what was her name?
Reese? Had to kill someone, I would have had the same reaction. Stop assuming you’re special.”
He was breathing heavily, hands tugging on strands of his hair, and now it was Clara’s turn to have no response.
He was right. She did assume everything he had done until this point was because of their past. But if he was following the rules, that wasn’t the case and she was the one who was nearing a breaking point with them.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Anger still welled in her chest, but she was doing her best to keep her tone calm. Her partner, not ex, didn’t deserve her anger in this moment.
“Wow,” he shook his hair out, dropping his hands back to his sides. “Never thought you were capable of those words.”
“Don’t push it,” she warned, feeling the anger flame a little brighter, “You still have the rules, right?” He nodded, patting the pocket over his chest. “Why don’t you pull it out and read it? I think we could both use the reminder.”
He cleared his throat dramatically, unfolding the page. “Rule 1. The mission comes first. Rule 2. No flirting.”
“Which includes throwing water at me.” She interjected.
“Can I add a rule that you’re not allowed to interrupt me? I really don’t appreciate it.” She rolled her eyes, and Carver continued, “Rule 3. No physical contact. We’ve done okay with that one,” he shrugged.
“Yeah.” As long as they didn’t mention her shaking him awake that morning. But it didn’t need to be brought up, so she agreed with his statement.
“Rule 4. No mention of our history. Rule 5. No defending the other person beyond what is necessary for the mission.” Clara gave him a pointed look, and Carver threw up his hands in defense.
“I haven’t defended you. Not once. I haven’t done anything except keep us both alive for the sake of the mission. ”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. And you can’t read my mind, so you have no choice but to believe me.”
“There’s always a choice.” She muttered, purely for the sake of argument.
“Just let me finish reading.” He closed his eyes momentarily, and Clara almost smiled at how well she pushed his buttons.
“Fine. Hurry up.”
“Stop commenting and I could! Rule 6. If there’s only one bed we take turns sleeping on the floor. Or, in my case,” he grinned widely, “Learn to enjoy sleeping on the floor and always choose that.”
“You didn’t have to sleep on the floor.” Clara started walking again, and Carver folded the page, less carefully than she preferred, as he caught up to her.
“Not a big deal.” He shrugged it off, “Truthfully, without knowing what happened there, that town made me a little nervous. I’m glad we’re out of it.”
“How far can we follow the tracks before we need to divert more towards Noxvalis?”
Carver hooked his thumbs through the straps of his bag, and for a moment Clara envied how carefree he looked.
His hair shone in the sun, and his skin, practically glowing from their amount of sun exposure, looked vibrant.
Glancing down at her own arms, she could already see the pink forming, and freckles had begun to dot her skin from the day before.
“We should check the map when we stop for water. When are we doing that, by the way? You seemed to want to be in charge of the journey, so I will leave our stops to your discretion.” He tilted his head towards her mockingly.
If it had been allowed, she would have shoved him.
Hard. And hoped he’d trip over something and land on his backside.
But it wasn’t allowed so she focused her gaze straight ahead. “Soon. Are you thirsty already?” They had drained their bottles a ways back, but she was still okay. The sun beat down on her head, and she knew they needed water quickly, regardless of how they felt at the moment.
“I’m good right now.”
“Let’s keep walking for a little while then.”
“Yes ma’am.” This time it was a fake salute.
Clara looked out across the other side of the tracks so Carver wouldn’t be able to see her smile.
She missed his goofiness, far more than she realized.
For the last three years, she had learned to hate every memory of him.
She rewrote every thought of him in a haze of red, changing what he meant or his tone.
Now, he was here. And she couldn’t rewrite this moment. Not yet, anyway.
“What was training to be a spy like?” She asked after a while. Her face warmed from the sun, and she knew they should stop for water. Her stubbornness was still louder than her parched throat and she didn’t want to lead them off course yet. A distraction would help.
“Is this something I’m allowed to talk about?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” She smirked.
“I didn’t ask for your attitude.” He said flatly, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips.
“No, that came for free. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”
“You told me yours,” he sighed, “I suppose it’s my turn to tell you mine. There was a lot of physical training in the beginning. Unusual physical training. We even did a stint in ballet.”
“Ballet?”
“Yeah. Sounds weird, I know. But it worked. I learned more about footwork and how to stay quiet from those training sessions than anything else we did. I also learned balance and discipline. It was a lot harder than you would think.”
She laughed, “I’m sure it was.”
“No, really. It was.” He chuckled lightly, “I had bruises on my feet for weeks because of the shoes. By the time we moved on, I could move without a sound.”
“So you became a fabulous dancer.”
Now he fully laughed. Clara couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was another thing she had missed from him. “Not at all. I learned what I needed and forgot the rest.” He pointed at her, “So don’t you dare ask me to pirouette.”
“Oh c’mon, that was my next request.” She groaned.
His smile faded, “Those kinds of things were fun. The physical training part I enjoyed. Yeah, it sucked sometimes, but you learn to love the pain after a certain point.” Clara nodded, understanding that feeling way too well.
The pain was her only escape. “But we’re spies.
So while you learned to kill,” he grimaced as he glanced at her but she didn’t react, “We learned to lie.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” she said carefully, but could tell it was headed somewhere she wasn’t prepared for.
“That’s what I thought too. I think all of us thought that way in the beginning.
It was endless lie detector tests, endless betrayals.
They assigned us stories we had to keep from our friends.
And then it was actions.” He inhaled deeply, “Stab your best friend in the back, not literally of course, then make sure they would still trust you to protect them. It messes with your head. After a couple months, you learn not to trust anyone. Everyone becomes insanely brilliant liars, and it’s absolutely terrifying because everyone is good at it. There’s no one left to trust.”
Clara stayed quiet. Another feeling she understood. Though, she also learned how to rebuild trust, at least partially. She could always trust Reese to have her back. Same with a couple other assassins. To have no one? To wait for everyone to try and take you out? She couldn’t quite imagine that.
Carver’s eyes scanned her face, and they softened when she looked at him. “Not a fun idea, right?”
“Not at all.” She whispered back.
“Okay, I know I said I would let you decide, but I think we should go ahead and stop for water.” His tone was jovial again, but Clara wondered just how many scars he hid. She wore hers proudly, the anger, the ferocity. Every scar was displayed as a dare to mess with her.
He seemed so unchanged from who he had been.
He was still the life of the party, still perfect, still the person everyone wanted to be around.
His words stunned her more than she wanted to admit.
Did he trust anyone? How could he hide that kind of damage and still seem so… happy? She certainly wasn’t.
“Earth to Clara.” Carver waved his hand in front of her face, and she jolted. “Water?”
She swallowed, recognizing how dry her throat was. “Good idea.”
He turned off to walk down into the forest towards the stream. She carefully followed, wondering what else she would discover about him. One thing was certain. He wasn’t the same man who had broken up with her. She hadn’t yet figured out if that was good or bad.