Untamed

Chapter 6

chapter

six

Ender

Haven has been avoiding me for days, and while I welcome the reprieve, it is a jarring contrast to her behavior the day we met.

Overnight, her barbed tongue and defiance have melted, giving way to a skittish nature.

Her footsteps glide across the library floor, soft as falling snow, and every night her silver platter is left outside her bedroom door, as if she dreads entering the dining hall.

“She’s spooked,” I say aloud.

“Who is?”

Knox sits across from me, inhaling a thin cigarette. We sit in my office, the window cracked just enough to let the night air in. A lamp sits on the oak desk, throwing long, disjointed shadows across the walls. My monitors are dimmed and silent as I attempt to process my thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” Knox asks.

I don’t answer immediately. I watch the smoke he exhales curl in the air, dissipating too quickly.

“How is the sister doing?” I ask instead.

Knox blinks. “Mercy?”

“Yes,” I say impatiently. “Mercy.”

“Since when do you care?”

I drag my finger slowly across my lip, feeling the cold bite of my military ring. The one I received when I graduated from the Forge.

“I get the distinct impression the sisters are colluding.”

Knox snorts. “You think they’re plotting what exactly?”

“You saw them, the day we left, they had a silent conversation,” I say, waving to my head. “Their weird twin thing. I had to separate them in the car to make it stop.”

“I think they might have done that to annoy you,” Knox says, cracking a smile.

“Haven has been tolerable,” I press.

That earns me a laugh.

“That’s your evidence?”

Haven Warrick is sharp-edged and reckless, full of a willful spark that borders on self-destruction.

I remember the way she met my gaze that day; she was unafraid, almost as if she were daring me to try to control her.

If Warrick, the High General, himself couldn’t tame that spirit, I am not arrogant enough to believe I managed it in a handful of days.

“And Mercy?” I prompt.

“She’s settling in as expected. Made a friend already. A few enemies, too.” He hesitates. “There was an incident yesterday. A few Gifted were poking some fun at her.”

“And?”

“She handled it, fought her way out, and her friend called a sergeant before it got ugly,” he says slowly.

“Hmm,” I murmur.

Knox leans forward, elbows on his knees, lowering his voice.

“You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That look that means someone’s already dead and they just don’t know it yet.”

I stand, pacing across the room. The implant at my neck hums faintly beneath my skin, responding to my agitation. Sometimes I forget it is even there, and other times I can’t ignore it if I tried.

“It’s glaringly obvious,” I say at last, stopping by the window, staring out at the watchtowers of the Forge. “They switched places.”

Silence crashes down around us like the empty static between radio stations.

Knox sucks in a sharp breath. “That’s a serious accusation.”

“It’s not an accusation,” I say. “It’s a fact.”

“They could get into serious trouble for this,” Knox says, alarmed. “Identity theft, impersonation of a conscript, falsifying intake records, subverting a sanctioned union.”

I turn back to him, my expression cold. That would get them a few decades in prison, if not executed.

“They underestimated me,” I say. “Both of them.”

“What are you going to do?” Knox asks warily.

A slow smile curves my mouth.

“I’m going to let them think they’ve won,” I say. “And then I’m going to see how far they’re willing to fall to keep the lie in place.”

Because if they did switch, I would ruin both their lives.

“I think it’s time I pay Mercy a visit.”

The training ground falls silent the moment I step onto the dry, cracked grass. The Commons freeze mid-motion, the chatter dying on their lips.

“Line up,” I bark.

Knox is standing in the corner. Arms folded across his chest as he watches the scene unfold. The Commons scramble to follow orders. Even the two sergeants seem alarmed by my presence. I don’t teach lessons. My time is too valuable to be wasted training the Gifted, let alone the Commons.

They didn’t expect to see me here.

Ever since I was promoted to Commandant of the Forge, I’ve been busy overseeing the entire facility.

Not to mention managing my own covert unit.

It’s a lot of paperwork and less field work, which isn’t my idea of fun.

If it were up to me, I would refuse the new title, but just like this foolish marriage scheme, it is another role I must undertake to improve my odds of being voted in as Supreme Director.

My gaze finds her immediately. Her hair is tied in a braid, bangs fluttering loosely above her emerald eyes. Her mouth is set in a grim line. She doesn’t look pleased to see me.

“Mercy Warrick,” I call.

She freezes, and I resist the urge to smile. It is going to be fun breaking her.

Murmurs ripple through the line. A Common being singled out is a rare occurrence.

Haven steps forward anyway. Her chin is raised high, and her back is ramrod straight.

“Today’s lesson,” I say calmly, “is response under threat.”

I could not care less about teaching the recruits. But this pretense requires a fair bit of acting.

I gesture to the rack of training weapons. “Choose.”

Her eyes flick over the options—batons, sabers, quarterstaffs, and blades. Her mouth turns in disappointment when she realizes there are no guns, which was foolish to expect. She reluctantly reaches for the baton. A smile ghosts across her lips as if she is picturing bludgeoning my head in.

How predictable.

I draw a long blade with a thin handle. Not a practice one, but the real thing. These aren’t used so early in their training. The sergeant stiffens. He opens his mouth to object. He thinks I plan to kill the girl, and I haven’t decided yet if I will.

“Take position,” I order.

Haven bends her knees, feet spread apart. I circle her slowly.

Her eyes are keen and calculated, cataloging my every movement. It isn’t the nervous stare of a new conscript thrown into a world they don’t understand.

“You’ve been trained,” I state.

Her grip tightens.

“My sister and I were both instructed by Lieutenant General Reed Sullivan,” she says.

“Interesting,” I muse. “So, your sister is an accomplished fighter, as well?”

“Yes,” she says quickly. “Better than me.”

“Perhaps, I shall test her skill,” I say offhandedly. “I will have to remember to throw a knife at her unsuspectingly and see how she reacts.”

She stills. I use the distraction to swing my blade down. Her baton clashes down on it, and the force of the impact rattles her small arms.

“You’re a weak, little thing, aren’t you?” I taunt.

Her jaw clenches.

“Strike,” I command.

She hesitates as if she doesn’t trust my direction. Too bad. I was giving her an opening. I attack instead. Steel flashes before it crashes down on her baton, scratching the rubber.

She barely manages to deflect the second impact before the blade cleaves her neck. The line of recruits gasp.

I force her backward across the field. She blocks, pivots, and counters, remaining on the defense, but never once striking first. She didn’t pick a weapon that could cut or harm.

Unless she gets me flat on my back and uses it to crack my skull in, the weapon is useless.

Perhaps that is what she is hoping for: pure luck.

She’s getting frustrated. Her swipes come in quick succession.

“There it is,” I murmur. “That temper.”

I twist the blade and disarm her in a brutal flick, sending the baton skidding across the grass. I use her confusion to kick her ankles out, watching her fall on her back. The breath escapes her in a rush. Before she can stand, I press my blade to her throat, holding her in place.

The ground is deadly silent. The steel edge digs in slightly, making her eyes widen.

“What is the point of this?” she asks, frustrated. “Why are you even here?”

“You tell me?” I respond. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Her throat bobs.

“No.”

We stay like that for one infinite minute. My finger twitches on the handle, and I contemplate cutting out her throat for her lies. It is the least of what she deserves. She must think she is so clever, attempting to trick me, of all people.

Her green eyes lock on mine. They burn with hatred.

“Don’t you have innocent people to kill?” she snaps. “Or did you tire of your mind tricks?”

It didn’t take her long to learn about my powers.

“A rebel sympathizer,” I say. My lips curl in disgust. “Of course, you are. Just like your mother.”

I blink, and she slips out from under my blade. One minute, it is pressed to her throat, and the next, she stands above me, landing several kicks to my ribs.

How did she move so fast?

“Don’t you dare speak about her, you worthless scum,” she snarls.

I catch her ankle and yank hard until she falls on her back.

“Lesson complete,” I announce. “Everyone, leave.”

I stand up, dusting my fingers. Haven—because that is exactly who she is—lies flat on her back.

“How did you get out from under me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks haughtily. “You’re slow, and I don’t just mean up here.” She taps her head.

“Funny,” I say dryly. “Answer me.”

She rises, furiously wiping the grass from her uniform. It’s horrid. Ill-fitting and a shade of brown that can only be compared to shit.

“You look ugly,” I remark.

She laughs, a dry, unamused laugh.

“That’s good,” she says. “I hardly care to tempt you of all people.”

“Because I am engaged?”

“Because I am married,” she says.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Oh, yeah? Who is the unlucky fellow?”

“Grayson Sullivan,” she says.

The words come out far too quickly for comfort.

“Warrick didn’t mention it,” I say slowly.

She shrugs. “We eloped. A nice little ceremony at the court office at Arrow Hill. My father is none the wiser.”

My anger bristles. Did Warrick pair me with a married woman? One who swapped places with her sister to avoid her duties and to sneak around with her husband?

I am going to kill that old man if there is even a hint of truth to her words.

Haven spins on her heels, satisfied to have gotten the last word. I grab her wrist and yank her backwards.

“What if I tell your father?” I ask.

She shakes off my hold and spins around to face me. I rub my palm on my trousers to erase her touch.

“Why would you bother?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. “In fact, why are you even here, torturing me right now? Do you have nothing better to do? Did Knox tell you I want to see my sister?”

Her questions are shot at rapid succession. I ignore them all, except the last.

“If you want to see your sister, you’ll do a better job getting on my good side,” I say. “In fact, if you beg me, I might let you speak to her.”

Her jaw clenches so tightly. It’s a wonder she doesn’t snap a tooth.

“May I please speak to my sister?”

“How about you get on your knees and ask?” I suggest. “That may sway me.”

Her eyes turn acidic, and her fists curl by her side. I expect her to refuse, to turn on her heels and flip me off. But she must really like her sister, because she obeys my order. It takes everything in her to lower herself to her knees.

“May I please speak to my sister?” Haven repeats. Her tone cold and abrasive.

Satisfaction rolls through me. I stare at her, tilting my head.

“Good,” I say in a bored tone. “But not good enough. Like your fighting skills, you could use more practice.”

She looks at me like she is picturing a bullet between my eyes.

I walk away from her before she decides to get violent.

Knox is waiting for me on the outskirts of the field. He whistles under his breath.

“That was intense,” he says. “Did you really need to get her on her knees? That was a little mean, don’t you think?”

“How did she get out from under me?” I demand.

Knox shrugs.

“She’s a quick little thing,” he says. “Quite scrappy if you ask me.”

Haven passes us, throwing the middle finger my way.

Knox gasps, clutching his chest theatrically.

“Not for you,” she adds sweetly with a little smile.

Then she’s gone, disappearing into the building.

“I need you to reach out to the courthouse at Arrow Hill, Division Three,” I say. “Check if there are any marriage contracts under Grayson Sullivan’s name?”

“The lieutenant’s son? Why?”

“She says she is married to him,” I say between gritted teeth.

Knox’s eyes widen.

“Do you think that’s why they switched places?” Knox asks. “Because she eloped without Warrick’s permission.”

“It makes the most sense,” I murmur.

“What will you do if they are wed?” Knox asks.

“I will destroy them both,” I say.

Nobody makes a fool of me. And lives to tell the tale.