Chapter 17 #2
“Hey, it’s fine.” Hunter pats Taylor on the back. “No apology needed. It’s a war, kid. Shit happens. And, from what I hear, you’ve been kicking ass. I’m proud of you.”
She freely gives Taylor the praise she so obviously craves from Theia, and Taylor stands up straighter. “Thank you. I’m very glad to have you back. Go get packed.”
Hunter huffs out of a laugh. “That’s it? I haven’t seen you in like two years and it’s all business?”
“No time,” Taylor says, somewhat apologetic. “Theia asked that the negotiations go quickly, as we are needed back as soon as possible. I will speak with Leader Wolfshield privately as you pack.”
Handsome Soldier steps forward. “There is no private audience with Leader Wolfshield.” It isn’t necessarily threatening, but it sure as hell isn’t friendly.
“I do not need your permission, soldier,” Taylor responds icily. There is fire in that ice, to be sure. Her chest rises and falls thrice, purposefully stretching out her fingers at her side.
Hunter plants her gaze on him and raises a hand. “It’s fine, Ahote. Trust me when I say if Taylor wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already.”
Taylor ignores the semi-compliment, still glaring at Ahote. “Miss Piccolo, accompany Hunter, please. See to it she’s not prevented from retrieving her belongings.”
Oh, goody, what a treat. Hunter raises her eyebrows. “Luciana Piccolo as my own private guard. I can’t tell if I moved up in the world or you moved down.” Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Hey, where’s Mason?”
“He lost part of his arm back in the MidCountry,” Taylor says. “He’s at HQ recuperating.”
The former captive whistles. “Shit. Did Maria go with him?”
Taylor nods. “Yes. Miss Piccolo arranged for it.”
“Mighty kind of you.” Hunter walks around Taylor to stride toward me, and sticks her hand out. “Hunter.”
“Lucy.”
“Nice to meet another kidnapping victim,” Hunter replies with a chuckle. “It’s kind of embarrassing, right?”
“I consider us prisoners of war.” I force a smile on my face. “The optics are better.”
“I like how you think, Piccolo.” Hunter winks at me. “Makes us seem more important, you know? And maybe less like we got caught with our pants down.”
Patricia walks forward and Taylor follows her step carefully, as if the leader is going to cut us both down as we stand across from one another. “Luciana. Didn’t you turn out to be a beautiful young woman? You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“I was a guest of your father’s many years ago. You were barely waist-high. Do you remember?”
“No, but I’m sure I should apologize. I was a handful.”
“Was?” Taylor asks.
“Yes, well, I remember you. Your recollection of your behavior is accurate,” she reveals with a kind smile.
“But you were also precocious and smart. You insisted upon taking me to the library and reading aloud your favorite books. It was a nice break from the rigor of inter-region politics. Besides, who doesn’t like a spirited retelling of Hansel and Gretel from the perspective of the witch?
” With a sigh, she removes one hand from her pocket and places it on my shoulder.
“Much belated, but I’m very sorry about your mother.
She was one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and one of the kindest too. ”
A memory sucks me out of the room and plants me at my mother’s burial, standing next to my father, shaking the hands of strangers as they stare at my dead mother and offer condolences much like that one. “Thank you.”
She pivots to Taylor. “Okay. Let’s get Theia on the line.” She waves off the soldier. “Attend to your squad.”
“You’re going in alone with the assassin?” Ahote questions anxiously. Taylor meets his step with one of her own, her features gnarled and tight, short of outright snarling.
Wolfshield’s lips curl upward. “You think me so weak I could not defend myself from an adolescent?”
“In fairness,” Hunter interjects, “she’s no ordinary adolescent.”
Taylor grumbles, “I am not an adolescent.”
“I believe Eos is not so stupid as to disobey direct orders from her superior,” Wolfshield replies.
Ahote grunts. “I didn’t say—”
“You’ve said quite enough. I’ve protected this region for the last forty years, I think I’ll last a few hours longer.” She plants her hands on her hips and skewers him with her eyes.
He shrinks back, machismo deflating. Ahote nods curtly and turns on his heel military style, then vacates the room. Hunter and I are not far behind, walking down the hallway in the opposite direction.
“So, here we are, Luciana Piccolo.”
“Just Lucy is fine.”
“All right, Just Lucy.” She’s satisfied with herself until she takes a look at my face. “Ugh, clearly you spent too much time with Taylor. She’s never appreciated my jokes, either.”
Hunter leads me out into the temperate night, and we cross a grassless courtyard to a row of gray and beige dormitories.
It’s a step up from the cabins in Pennsylvania—there is ample electricity—but they share the same military sparseness.
Off in the distance stands a bowl-shaped building that looks like the abandoned stadium arenas back home.
But this one isn’t abandoned. It sparkles like a diamond, lit by ginormous floodlights on a darkened field.
Inside Hunter’s room, the bed is made with the same sharp corners Taylor uses, but it’s messy. Clothes are strewn about, a baseball bat and volleyball tucked into a corner—touches of a life lived. Touches of a personality allowed to be expressed.
“Looks like you made yourself at home,” I say as she lounges in a chair, propping her feet up on her desk.
“What else would I do for almost two years?” She clasps her hands over her stomach. “I was trained to survive. That’s what I did.”
“Congratulations. Was it difficult to manage between scrimmages?” I tap the volleyball with the toe of my boot.
“Did they not schedule you any activities at HQ? Or was my cot in our cabin not up to your standards?” Hunter smirks at me. “Surely she didn’t make you sleep on the couch.”
I huff and cross my arms. “No, she did not.”
“No, of course not. She’s a bit prickly, but not so bad, right?
I mean, you could’ve done way worse. For example, if I had been there, I’d have killed you.
” She’s trying to get a rise out of me. This is what people like her do.
Poke and prod until she finds what makes you tick, and then she thinks she knows you.
“But Taylor’s always been a sucker for a pretty woman. ”
I grit my teeth. “It would appear so.”
“I’m sensing real animosity here and I’m not sure why.”
“I don’t have a reason to like you,” I reply. “I don’t know you.”
“Life on the run’s made you tough, huh?” She’s playing with me. Toying. Was she always like this? Or did two years amongst the wolves turn her into a predator? “Not quite the experience a young sovereign would expect.”
“Shouldn’t you be packing?” The voice that comes out of my mouth feels off—it’s the one I used with servants in the mansion. It doesn’t sound like me.
But it does the trick as Hunter snorts and nods, silently acquiescing. She starts piling items haphazardly into a military-style duffel bag. “Tell me, Just Lucy, how does the princess of the Northeast end up taking my position in the rebellion?”
“I hardly took your place. Don’t think anyone could, the way everyone’s talked about you.”
Hunter whistles. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. We’re all pieces on the same board.”
“Chess pieces have a hierarchy,” I reply. “With what the Order is giving up for your safe return, it’s pretty clear you’re not one of us lowly pawns.”
“Ah. Taylor didn’t tell you.” A perfectly arched eyebrow raises on her creaseless forehead. “I’m Theia’s daughter.”
I’m unsure how I didn’t see it immediately. The identical brown eyes, same cheekbones, my instant dislike. Probably because I didn’t want to see it, or because I’m too wrapped up in my lovelorn drama. “Oh.”
“So, no, not a pawn. Maybe a bishop. You, though, you’re at least a rook, eh? An heiress who should’ve been killed months ago, under the protection of the rebellion’s highest-ranking soldier?” Hunter links her hands in front of her. “How’s that going? Theia make a deal with your dad yet?”
“He wants to see me in person first.”
“I am sure there’s more to it than that,” she replies. “But Theia’s probably keeping her cards close, as usual. Surprised Taylor hasn’t spilled the beans. You seem close.”
I cock my head to the side. “You think that from the thirty seconds Taylor and I were in a room together?”
And I probably shouldn’t have been so defensive, considering the smirk I receive in response.
“I think that because I know Taylor like the back of my hand.” She continues to pack, an infuriatingly smug look on her face.
“I know the first time we saw you, you could have knocked her over with a feather. She ever tell you about that?”
“No. We did not have much time for long chats in between assassinations and getting shot.”
She pauses. “Taylor was shot?”
“Yes.”
This causes her to snap straight up, indignant. “And what did you do, stand there and watch?”
“I was not there,” I spit back at her. No reason to tell her I was shot too. You don’t expose your wound to a predator.
Hunter scoffs and resumes her task with less annoying joviality than before.
“One day, it’s maybe mid-August and muggy and hot as hell.
Taylor and I are cramped in an old apartment building observing your place.
Taylor is relaying guard positions and the general comings and goings. Suddenly, she goes quiet.”
For dramatic effect, Hunter abruptly ceases speaking. I wave my hand for her to continue.
“And so, my taciturn partner, more neutral and wholesome than a glass of milk, looks like someone whacked her with a two-by-four. Naturally, I gotta see what’s got her so gobsmacked. Lo and behold, there you are.”
I furrow my brow. “Had you not seen me before?”