Chapter 7 A New World. #2
It was a schedule colour-coded in green, red, and blue.
It was like a class schedule, only it read more like Selene’s class schedules.
First aid and battlefield medicine, communications and technology, reconnaissance and stealth, command and chain of authority, war ethics and rules of engagement, physical and mental conditioning, hand-to-hand combat, weapons proficiency, and tactical manoeuvres and strategy.
Was this a school? A war school? Was I in some sort of student accommodation? I looked down the corridor at the evenly spaced brown wooden doors. Was there another sparse bedroom behind each door?
Voices distracted my investigation of where I was.
They were near, but not moving closer. I walked to the opposite end of the corridor as quietly as I could, which meant moving more slowly than I would have preferred.
The brace was large and added weight and height to my right leg, making my walk off-balance, and I limped, my foot and ankle locked in place, unable to bend naturally.
My whole leg felt stiff and cumbersome to move.
Eventually, and with surprisingly no noise to my ears, I made it to the end of the hall and snuck a peek to my left.
The voices were still too muffled for me to make out, and there was no one down either side of the long corridor that joined the corridor of the room where I had awoken. I decided to get closer to hear the voices.
As I crept agonisingly slowly, taking the utmost care with each step to remain quiet, the voices became clearer.
There were two voices, and I recognised both, but I couldn’t place where from. They were familiar to me, but didn’t belong to anyone that I knew well.
“When are we going to wake her up?” a woman asked.
“We will allow her to wake of her own accord,” a man answered, his voice sounded almost jovial in a weird way, like he was laughing at the question, not quite condescending but like being amused by a child's question.
“Don’t speak to me like that,” the woman warned. “I’m not some low-level cannon fodder. She wants her awake. We can’t know if any of our efforts have worked until she’s awake, and we can’t continue the treatment with her unconscious.”
I knew they were talking about me. Unless they had someone else injured or asleep in a nearby room. Talk of treatment had my attention. What treatments? For my leg?
The man laughed.
“I know who you are. You’re nothing special. Are you? If you were, that old hag wouldn’t need her, would she?” he mocked.
What were they talking about?
“If that ‘old hag’ heard you, you’d be dead and skinned. Nothing but a rug at her feet,” she replied. “We all know what you are.”
“I make no attempt to hide my ambitions,” he replied. “The same can’t be said for you and yours.”
Silence.
“I know all that goes on in my home,” his voice took on a sinister tone.
“I know you’re a let-down. They all are, but not precious Percy.
No. That girl, that na?ve little flower, left to grow wild and free, and you hate that, they all will, until plucked by your own nightmare, she’s something special.
I wonder how special. Oh, did I scratch too close to something?
” He laughed obnoxiously loudly. I wished I could see the interaction, know the expression he was responding to.
“Remember whose hospitality your lot enjoys. You are welcome because it pleases my ambitions, and our goals are equally met in this alliance. I am not an old witch’s servant.
That role belongs to you. If Lady Flores is growing impatient, you can appease her discomfort.
The flower girl will wake in her own time according to the advice of my personal healer. ”
Lady Flores? They weren’t talking about me.
Angry footsteps momentarily stomped in my direction before turning and drifting off. I had stopped breathing in my attempt to be silent, and I took a harsh breath to refill my lungs.
More footsteps followed, no anger to the steps, a slower pace, but these steps grew closer and closer.
A man in a navy suit, trousers, black shoes and a white shirt, the top buttons undone and revealing chest hair, turned the corner.
I remembered his smirk, his dark hair and sharp yellow eyes instantly. His hair was slightly longer, styled as would be expected of a Lord of House Halvorsen. It made him look younger, but then I guess he could only have been in his mid-twenties.
“Lord Arvid,” I greeted as he turned the corner.
“Percy,” he returned, with a sly smile, not a hint of surprise.
“How nice to see you awake, and up and moving too, without assistance. I should never have expected anything less from one of such an indomitable spirit,” he continued.
“I was on my way to wait for you to awaken, but you seem to have awakened earlier than expected. I was surprised to catch your scent.” His smile morphed into something almost sinister, something cruel.
“What were you talking about?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m sure you're familiar with the main subject of our discussion,” he replied.
“Me,” I supplied.
He nodded and looked to the window beside him.
“It is almost lunch, and the recruits will be returning soon. Would you like to join me for lunch this afternoon, Percy? I can provide you with a private shower, more fitting clothing,” he grinned and looked me up and down, “and a fine meal, before you're swept up by the chaos of waging a civil war,” he offered.
Civil war?
“The New Foundation wants a civil war?” I asked, shocked. Dylan, Harris, and even Ana wanted a civil war?
“Oh, now, girl, don’t use affectation with me. It’s hardly surprising, is it?” he asked.
“You’re hardly surprising,” I told him. “Who are you planning to double-cross for power this time?” I asked.
He laughed, and it seemed genuine.
“She told you?” he asked with slight surprise.
“Why wouldn’t she?” I asked.
Selene had told me the role that Arvid had played in Valen’s death. She had been upset that she hadn’t been able to personally kill Valen.
“Maybe to protect her delicate lover?” he shrugged, and his eyes grew sharp, cutting. “It’s easy to forget that you are so very far from innocent, despite your look.” He grinned. “Your hands are bloody after all.”
I instinctively looked at my hands. For a moment, just one dreadful moment, they were sticky red, a broken piece of bowl clenched between my fingers.
“Calm down.”
I flinched back, away from him, trying to wipe the blood from my hands on the cord trousers.
Arvid was suddenly in my personal space, and I hit my back against the wall.
He grabbed my shoulders.
“Percy, shh,” he said softly. “Now is very much not the time to have a breakdown. We are on a tight clock before we lose any opportunity to speak in private.”
I looked at my hands.
Clean.
No blood.
I looked back up at him.
“Come with me,” he demanded, taking hold of my upper arm.
I began to protest before a shrill beep of an alert sounded, and I flinched back against the wall. Almost immediately, I could hear excited voices from below us outside.
My heart raced, and I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of being confronted by Dylan, Harris, and especially not Ana.
“Come on,” he continued, and I allowed him to lead me further down the corridor in the same direction as I had come from.
We continued past the corridor to the room where I had awoken, then farther past more joining corridors. The building was clearly large and laid out in a grid-like system.
He ushered us down a corridor as voices began to join our floor, and doors began to open and shut.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“Quiet, please,” he said with bite, and looked behind us quickly.
We continued down the corridor. This one had far fewer doors.
“In here,” he said, stopping abruptly and releasing me to take a key from his pocket and unlock a door.
The door opened, and he pushed me forward, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. When the lock clicked into place, the edges of the doorframe glowed faintly.
He walked past me towards a cabinet with glasses and drinks.
“Sorry for snapping at you for speaking. There are some here with excellent hearing, and I don’t want it to be common knowledge that you are awake and walking about quite yet,” he explained as he took two glasses and uncorked a bottle of white wine.
“Why is it so important you speak to me before anyone else?” I asked as he poured the wine.
The room was a study of sorts. There was no desk, but there was a large coffee table, a drinks cabinet, a small sink, a fridge, a sofa, and four assorted yet stylish armchairs. There were two more doors within the room.
“I suspect this will be the only time we will be able to speak alone, unmonitored. Once they know you’re awake, you’ll be under lock and key, so to speak,” he answered and walked towards me, handing me a glass.
I looked at the glass, hesitating.
He raised an eyebrow and brought the glass to his lips, taking a drink.
“I’m not trying to poison you. It’s a fine dry white, made from grapes from our vineyard five seasons ago,” he told me.
It hadn’t even crossed my mind that he might try to poison me.
“I don’t drink alcohol,” I explained.
Selene wasn’t there to refuse the drink on my behalf, but I knew that she wouldn’t approve.
“Really?” he asked.
I didn’t respond. He shrugged and set the glass down on the coffee table.
“Please take a seat.” He turned back to the drinks cabinet and fridge, “I can offer you sparkling water, a cold-pressed orange juice, or a canned iced espresso. Which would you prefer?” he asked.
“Coffee,” I answered. I was tired and felt I needed all my focus when dealing with Arvid.
He opened the fridge, pulled out a small black can with silver lettering, and offered it to me.
I accepted the can and popped it open. The smell of coffee was instant, and I salivated at the smell alone.
How long had it been since I had had a coffee?
Too long.
I sat down in the nearest armchair and took a sip of the iced espresso. It was good.