Chapter 26
The fight with Knox follows me for the next few days. Everyone heard us yelling, and it’s humiliating. Maybe even more so with Rook playing witness to the entire exchange. I don’t understand why he came to my rescue, but I do appreciate it all the same.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, examining the mottled purple bruises Knox left on my arm, and then tug down the sleeve of my shirt to keep them hidden.
The last thing I need is a conversation about this with anyone. I know I shouldn’t just brush it aside, but it was a onetime thing, and . . . I sigh. Even I can hear how ridiculous I sound.
I don’t know what to do, though. Who would I even tell? My father certainly won’t care, and right now, he’s the only one who could save me from this future.
Then I make my way down to the cafeteria, where I’m headed off by my friends.
“Poet!” Silver says, wrapping her arms around me and drawing me into a hug. “We’ve barely heard from you lately.”
“How are you doing?” Hazel asks, her gaze sharp but kind.
“I’m fine,” I answer a bit warily. We haven’t talked because I haven’t been answering their texts, but they’ve been avoiding me in public.
“We heard what happened with Knox. And General Sol? I couldn’t believe it when she called you aside. What an honor,” Silver says, looping her arm through mine. “What did she want to talk about?”
My heart sinks. My instincts were correct—she’s fishing for gossip.
“Nothing important,” I answer, pulling my arm from hers. “Speaking of Knox, I’m late for lunch.”
“You two are doing well?” Hazel asks, blinking her dark eyes framed by long lashes.
“Sure,” I say. “See you later.”
I toss a wave over my shoulder and hurry away, not in the mood for interrogation or discussing how Knox and I are doing.
He’s been even more clingy since our argument. I think it’s part of his desire to prove to everyone we’re fine and he has things under control. After all, if he can’t control me, his helpless little fiancée, how can he be expected to rule our House?
And because of that, I can’t keep my secret about cadet training for very long.
A few minutes later, we’re standing in the lunch line when the attendant spies me. “Poet Graves?” she asks, and I nod before she turns around and deposits a tray on the counter. It’s a large plate laden with chicken, veggies, and pasta. “This is for you.”
“What’s that?” Knox asks, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you getting a special meal?”
“No reason,” I say, scooping up the tray after a quick thank-you.
Knox fills up his plate and follows me through the dining hall.
I scan the room, noting a group of second-years chatting by the door.
Then I spy Jackson and Sal at a table toward the back.
I’d prefer to eat alone, but I know Knox will make a fuss, so I resign myself to his presence.
“What aren’t you telling me now?” Knox accuses as we sit across from Jackson and Sal.
I pick up my fork and dig into some noodles, stuffing them into my mouth.
“I just . . .”
“That’s a cadet meal,” Jackson says, peering up at me. He doesn’t say it with any judgment—just a question and maybe a touch of concern. The big blabbermouth.
“A cadet meal? Poet, tell me you didn’t,” Knox says. “Tell me you did not sign up.”
I sigh and twirl my fork through the noodles. “So what if I did?”
“Are you serious right now? You don’t think you’re already in enough trouble?”
I shrug and take another bite. “Isn’t that precisely why I shouldn’t care? It’s not like I can make my dad any angrier.”
Sal scoffs from across the table. “I think you’re underestimating Scion Graves.”
I frown, knowing he’s probably right.
“Poet—” Knox says, and I put up a hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. I’m doing this. I’ll keep up with all my other classes like I’m expected to. If I flunk out of training, then so be it; I’ll finish my general degree like my father wants.”
“And if you don’t flunk out?”
I understand he means the question to be a worst-case scenario, but I can’t help savoring a tiny thrill of satisfaction knowing he thinks I could finish.
“Then . . . we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Knox glares at me, his jaw tight. I can see the thoughts running through his head, trying to decide how to change my mind.
“Please,” I say, hoping to appeal to some sense of his decency.
I know it’s in there somewhere. I used to love him, and even if it wasn’t in a romantic way, we were friends.
That little boy who wanted to protect me from my father all those years ago has to be somewhere in there.
“Just let me do this. I’m not hurting anyone. I need to try.”
“To what end?” he asks, and I try not to flinch. To what end, indeed. I can never actually be a Breaker, according to him and my father, but again, I keep all thoughts of defiance to myself.
“To prove to myself I can do this.” I pause and inhale a deep breath. “And for Raine.”
It’s a dirty trick. A low blow to use my brother’s name in this way. But I know Raine would be rooting for me. I know he would approve.
Jackson makes an aww sound, and his lower lip thrusts out. “How can you say no to that?” he asks, and I think Jackson just became my favorite person in the entire universe.
“He’s right,” Sal adds. “Look at her. She just wants to honor her brother’s memory.”
I can’t believe they’re defending me. I hold my breath, afraid of sidelining whatever careful momentum they’re building on my behalf. Who would have thought Jackson and Sal would become my advocates?
“It’s not like she’s really going to make it past first year anyway,” Sal adds, and my temporary admiration deflates. He digs into his food, clearly oblivious to the fact that he’s just insulted me, but I let it go, because Knox appears to be considering his friends’ arguments.
Sure, why listen to me about my own life?
Obviously his friends’ opinions should take precedence.
“Fine,” Knox says, and I blow out a tense breath. “But we keep this between us. If Grady or my father find out . . .”
“Trust me, I have no intention of telling either of them,” I say, wondering when the hell Knox started calling my dad by his first name.
He presses his mouth together and then attacks his plate without another word. I think I’ve won this round, and I hate myself for being grateful to him, but I guess this is what I’ve been reduced to.
Still, I’ll take it.
As I pick up my fork, I notice Trinity on the far side of the cafeteria. She’s sitting across the table from a girl with dark-brown hair, wearing the burgundy shirt of an E-squad recruit. Trin is leaning in while the girl talks, and I frown, wondering what they’re doing together.
“How was your second initiation last night?” Knox asks Sal across the table, turning my attention toward them.
“Fine,” he says as he looks away.
“You passed?”
“Of course I fucking passed,” Sal says. “What do you take me for?”
“What did you have to do?” Jackson asks.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Sal answers.
He’s right. No one is allowed to disclose the details of their second and third initiations, but that doesn’t mean everyone follows that rule.
“Tell us,” Knox says, digging for more. The second test is designed to expose your weaknesses and fears. What is Knox afraid of?
“No, fuck off,” Sal practically snarls, and it’s obvious Knox is touching a nerve. They’ve been friends forever and have always been loyal, but Knox is very competitive.
Sal constantly rises to Knox’s bait, while Jackson tends to ignore them both when they get this way.
After that, it seems none of us feels much like talking, so we all move on to eating quietly, surrounded by cafeteria noise.
Trinity has left, and I don’t see the girl she was talking to anymore.
I stare around the room, my gaze lingering on Stevie and the members of House Aria as I consider the upcoming rounds of initiation.
What will my next test be? They can’t ask me to repeat the same test, so they can’t make me fight anyone again.
But they could still ask me to hurt someone.
If I refused, I’d be without a House. I close my eyes at the thought, wondering if I could bring myself to do it.
I’d be cut off from everyone and everything I know.
I could consider Asale or Tera, but I have no clue what kinds of tests they give. It could be something equally bad. Or be something I know absolutely nothing about. What if Asale asked me to design a tool or code a computer program? I’d fail before I even started.
After all, the point of pledging is to prove your worth. That you deserve to be a part of Society. And as Stevie told me the night I ran the tower of fire: they can’t make it too easy.
Suddenly, my lunch sours in my stomach, and I drop my fork with a clatter.
“I gotta go.” I stand up from the table, and without waiting for a response, I leave and head to my room to grab my things. I have my first gym session today, and I’m eager to get there early.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the gym to the sound of music blasting through high-set speakers, the low murmur of conversation, and the clink and clang of weights. I inhale the smell of rubber and sweat, weirdly thrilled to be participating in mandated exercise.
Quickly, I scurry to change into my gym attire—purple shorts and a long-sleeved top—before I go to meet my trainer.
I notice a few other people from cadet training, including Rook, who’s talking to Brooklyn, one of the Storm Breakers from our first day of cadet training.
Rook’s gaze finds me briefly before it flicks away, and I try to ignore the weird emptiness his brush-off leaves in my chest. We haven’t spoken since he defended me against Knox, and it seems I owe him yet another thank-you for his help.
“Poet,” comes a voice to my left, and I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of Henry. “I’ll be your trainer today.”
It’s so good to see him, and I offer him the first genuine smile I’ve felt in a while.
Over the next hour, I follow Henry’s instructions as he leads me through a series of exercises to help build muscle and strength.
It feels amazing to empty my mind and lose myself in the movements as sweat pours down my forehead.
This is exactly what I need. Something to distract me from everything going on.
Throughout my training, I remain aware of Rook on the near side of the room. Brooklyn puts him through his paces, and our eyes meet once or twice. Every time he glances my way, my stomach does this little dip that it really shouldn’t. I’m helpless to control it.
Knox assumed something about Rook and me the other day, and while I dismissed it, the truth is, I do feel something when I’m around him. I know it’s wrong. Nothing could ever happen between us.
I might not want to marry Knox, but Society depends on a man like my father ruling House Fiama. I recall my conversation with General Sol. That a change in leadership wouldn’t benefit any of us.
If he loses his position, it could create instability, and all those terrible things could happen again.
I can’t be the reason people suffer.
I’d accepted my duty to my city and Society, but I never thought about how it would feel to find something, or someone, I could never have.
I let out a sigh. Does it really matter? The way Rook looks straight through me every time our glances meet suggests my misplaced interest is entirely one-sided anyway.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Poet. Control the things you can.
I can’t have everything I want, but I can become a Breaker. I grit my jaw and force my rubbery arms to complete another ten reps for Henry.
“Great job!” he says and helps guide the weight back to the rack. “Now, let’s work on your quads.”
I smile back and move into the next exercise.
Finally, the hour is up, and Henry leaves me with a schedule of what to work on for the next week. Weight training is four days a week, with another two days of cardio and one rest day, with stretching or yoga every day. This is a lot, but I’m determined to keep up.
After a quick shower in the locker room, I’m off to history, finishing the day with an hour of math. By the time I return to my room, I’m so exhausted I can barely move.
I open the door to find Trinity alone, tapping away on her phone while she lies on her bed.
“Hi,” I say. “How are you? What have you been up to today? I saw you talking to someone earlier.”
She looks at me, and I can tell from her bloodshot eyes that she’s been crying.
“What happened?” I ask, my questions forgotten as I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed.
She shakes her head and shows me the messages on her phone. They’re from her parents. They aren’t cruel, but they aren’t particularly encouraging, either.
“They said I needed to pass my next two tests or . . .”
Tears roll down her cheeks as she clutches the device to her chest.
“Or what?” I’m genuinely curious what they plan to do. Mr. and Mrs. Robins have always been kind to me. They’re fair and reasonable, even when Trinity and I were causing trouble.
“They’ll disown me,” Trinity says. “My sister will become an only child.”
I sit with those words.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“What?”
“How can our parents raise us for our whole lives, then just . . . reject us because of this? Why are we all so convinced this is the only way?”
“Poet, what are you saying? Of course this is the way. Without Society we become like they did in the Warming Age, with no order, no discipline, leading us down a path to destruction.”
I chew on my lip as I stare out the window. The skies have been quiet this week, which has been a relief, but I sense another storm brewing in the distance.
“Yeah, I know that’s what we’re all taught.”
I push up from Trinity’s bed and walk to the window, noting a distant flash of lavender on the horizon. Thankfully, it’s recent enough since I absorbed my last dose of Spark that I’ll be able to weather this one inside.
“Poet?” Trinity asks, and I turn around. “What am I gonna do if I fail?”
She stares at me with watery gray eyes, and her sincerity guts me. She has no clue what comes next, but neither do I. I wish I could give her the answers she seeks. I wish we could return to the old days when we were two little girls worried about clothes and parties and not much else.
But those days are over. Our innocence was stripped away the moment we were asked to kill a man with our bare hands.
“I don’t know, Trin. I don’t know.”