Chapter 1 #2
I wear my armor that night, by way of a dress.
It belongs to Mercy, a dusky pink thing, the color of faded rose petals.
The collar is trimmed with lace, and the waistline is uncomfortably tight.
I clip my bangs back with a pearl-encrusted pin and try not to feel like I’m wearing a costume.
I fold my hands in a fist to hide my chipped, onyx-painted nails.
“You look pretty,” Mercy says as we descend the stairs.
“I’m trying to get on his good side,” I reply.
If I have any hope of convincing Warrick to let me go with Mercy to the Forge, I have to act like I am following his rules. And there is nothing he cares more about than appearances.
Sullivan waits by the door. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline when he sees me. “Hardly recognized you.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s just a dress.”
The dining room is small and dim. Warrick prefers practicality to extravagance.
The polished wood floors are covered by an outdated scarlet rug.
A single chandelier hangs from the ceiling, twinkling golden light across the room.
There is a portrait of Malric Vale, the Supreme Director, hanging on the wall as a token of respect.
Most well-off families do it in case he visits them.
The worst part is that Warrick doesn’t particularly like the Supreme Director.
Not that he would ever voice his opinion.
I reckon it’s because he hates taking orders and not because Malric Vale is a serpent.
Warrick sits at the head of the mahogany table, composed as ever. His gaze lingers on Mercy approvingly, but when it reaches me, disappointment sharpens his expression. Until he catches sight of my atrocious outfit.
“You made an effort,” he says with a pleased smile. “You must want something.”
“Mercy isn’t a soldier,” I say, bypassing any formalities. “You’re sending her to the Forge to punish me. She could die out there!”
“She’ll be trained,” he replies. “We will see if she possesses your hunger.”
“I’ll go with her,” I say, immediately. “I’ll look after her.”
Sullivan speaks before Warrick can refuse. “It would reflect well on you to send both girls. The Supreme Director may look upon your decision favorably.”
There is a gleam in Warrick’s eyes. One that unnerves me.
“I have a different plan for Haven,” he says. “Ender Vale was recently promoted to the role of Commandant. A big accomplishment for him, being only twenty-one. He will oversee the entirety of the military institution.”
I frown. What does Ender Vale have to do with anything?
I know little about the Supreme Director’s son except that he is an accomplished soldier and quite easy on the eyes.
Sometimes, he graces his father’s side during official announcements.
Raven hair fluttering in the breeze, full lips tight in a practiced scowl.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “So, about me going with Mercy, I thi—”
“You’re engaged to him,” Warrick says abruptly. “He arrives tomorrow.”
My grip tightens around my fork.
Mercy gasps, and Sullivan stiffens.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say between clenched teeth. “You hide me away like a secret, and I am to believe you paired me with the son of the most powerful man in New Foundry?”
A knife lifts from the table, hovering inches from Mercy’s throat.
Warrick is a Kinetic. He has the power to manipulate objects in his surroundings.
With one raise of his hand, he has put my sister’s life at risk.
It isn’t the first time he’s used his powers to threaten me.
And it never gets any easier, watching my sister’s eyes widen in fear.
He knows that she is my weakness. The one person I will always protect, no matter what.
“If you defy me,” Warrick says calmly, “your sister pays the price.”
Fear locks my spine. I wouldn’t put it past him to slaughter Mercy to teach me a lesson. After he killed our mother, I expected nothing less.
“Haven accepts the engagement,” Sullivan says, answering on my behalf.
Sullivan warns me to keep my mouth shut with a pointed look. But I have no intention of mouthing off to Warrick, not when he holds my sister’s life in his hands.
Warrick lowers the knife, and it flies across the room, falling back into his palm. He uses the same blade he had pressed to my sister’s throat to cut into his steak. Blood oozes out of the corners, puddling beneath the slab of meat.
“You are not fit for the military,” Warrick says. “Just like your mother, you are incapable of being loyal.”
The words hang between us, harsh and unrelenting, and for the first time in years, I feel the weight of everything I’ve lost. My heart bleeds like an open wound at the mention of my mother.
He wants to force me into this marriage to punish me for years of defiance. He knows that Mercy won’t survive the Forge. It is known for its brutality. It carves away weakness, replacing it with cruelty. And that is assuming she survives till graduation.
Warrick wants me to break, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I refuse to let him win.