Chapter 29 Disaster of an Interview
Disaster of an Interview
SHADOW
Seven Years Ago
For two days, Jessica and I text back and forth. For three nights, I sneak into her room and transport us to my apartment in Territory Five. We spend three glorious nights talking and kissing. I restrain myself to keep the kisses to a minimum, touches light, so I don’t get carried away.
We lie on my couch facing each other, and I run my fingertips along the scar on her arm, relishing the tiny electrical pulses at my fingertips. I watch her face as she talks to me, loving her animated expressions.
“Is it weird that I don’t feel it like I’m supposed to?”
“You mean this?” I ask as I continue to trail my fingers down her arm.
“I feel the tiny electrical impulses against my skin. I mean the connection, the bond. Emily said she thinks you’re my true mate, but I don’t feel that pull.”
I smile. Of course Emily picked up on it. I can’t hide anything from her. “It will strengthen after you transition. Then, you will be my little hormonal teenage stalker,” I joke.
She scrunches her cute little nose. “I guess it’s a good thing I can’t transport, then.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “I don’t think I would mind if you stalked me. It would make me feel like I’m not in this alone.”
“Shadow! I asked you a question!”
I quickly turn my head to Anders, who sits on the opposite side of Chris, in the dining room of the training facility.
The large picture windows let in the natural light of the midmorning sun.
Light glitters off the silverware placed on the tables covered in white linen strategically placed around the vast room.
In full guard uniform, I wait here for Jessica to arrive for her second interview.
When I left her, she was excited over her renewed sense of purpose to be in the guard.
I am not sure what happened between the time I left her and now. She’s running late.
“I told her what time to be here,” I say, my tone flat, like I’m bored, so he doesn’t sense my anxiety.
“That’s not what I ask—”
The door opens, stopping him mid-sentence.
“Have a seat. You’re ten minutes late,” Anders bites, motioning to the single chair placed in front of the long rectangular table where the four of us sit.
This is the table reserved for the Leads and on occasion myself when I used to come in to observe the recruits during meals.
The usual dinnerware settings were removed to conduct this interview.
Jessica is pale, her eyes puffy. Has she been crying? She won’t look at me. She just stares blankly off in the distance.
“I’m sorry. I ran into Dr. York on my way here,” she explains.
Anders, Chris, and Elias ask Jessica the standard questions. She answers them, with less enthusiasm than when we reviewed them the other night.
After a long pause, Chris sifts through a stack of papers, jots down a note, and clears his throat. “Jessica, can you tell me how you can contribute to the guard? Should we let you into the program?”
She looks down at her hands. “Contribute?” she repeats softly, more to herself.
Anders glances at Chris, brows furrowed. Chris raises a hand, holding Anders off from interjecting.
“Jessica, most candidates find a purpose or a goal that they feel they can contribute to the guard. For example, one of the most recent graduates wanted to become a pilot. Now that he graduated, he entered into a pilot program and will serve as a pilot for the royal family.” Jessica continues to fiddle with her hands. “Are you following me, Jessica?”
What the hell is wrong with her?
She blinks a few times and looks at Chris. “I haven’t really found my purpose in life yet.” Turning her gaze downward again, she adds, “I’m sorry for wasting your time. I... I...”
A tear trails down her cheek, falling onto her lap. Elias’s chair scrapes against the floor. He walks around the table and crouches down in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“What did Dr. York say?” he asks gently.
She shakes her head. “Nothing, really. He was glad he ran into me. He wanted to meet with me and my parents to review my lab results.” Another tear falls, and thunder rumbles in the far distance.
“Jessica, your magic is getting stronger. Did he give you a reason to listen to his thoughts?”
She glances at Elias, her eyes bright from unshed tears. “He was fidgeting and wouldn’t look at me. I could feel his concern. He felt sorry for me.” More tears, and then she swallows. “I shouldn’t have listened. I don’t know why I even came here.”
Elias pulls her forward into his embrace, gently patting her back while she cries. Anders tosses his pen onto the table and runs his hand through his white hair. Chris looks at me and at Anders, worry etched on his face.
When Elias urges her back into her chair, he scrubs her face with his large hands, wiping away the tears. “Care to tell us what you heard, so we can understand why you’re sabotaging your interview?”
She wipes her eyes and glances quickly in my direction. Squeezing her eyes shut, she abruptly stands. “I need to go home. I’m very sorry for wasting your time.”
“Sit down!” Anders barks. Elias stands and eyes Anders. “Elias, return to your seat or leave.”
Without a word, Elias sits. Anders issues both Chris and me a warning glare. I am not going to like this.
“Do you want to know why I shouldn’t choose you for the program?” Anders prompts Jessica.
She stares at the floor and shakes her head.
“Because you’re weak.”
My head snaps toward him. What did he just say? Chris places a hand on my chest. Jessica sits, unmoving, as another tear falls. I move to push my chair back. Chris grabs my uniform, holding me in place. “Don’t,” he whispers.
“When we first met, you applied to be in the guard. You debated, fought with me to look at your application. You pestered me about speaking to Shadow. Then, you got into some trouble, and it all stopped. I never heard a word from you after that. I left program contents behind on my desk on the days when you came to clean my office. Not once did you ask me about it. I sent you to tell the twins about their second interview, and you never asked if you would have yours. I gave you all the opportunities to approach me, but you never did.”
Her head whips up. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t feel I was worthy enough to be in the guard, because of what I did!”
I hold my breath. I never told Anders about the night before the guard ball. Chris glances at me, but I school my face.
Anders clasps his hands in front of him. “So, you’re a coward, then. Life happens, and instead of working your way through it and fighting to stay on top, you give up and hide. I don’t need someone like you in the guard.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The bright sun dims, the sky turns a depressing gray, and it starts to rain. Jessica glares at Anders.
He leans forward. “You don’t even have the balls to tell me to ‘go fuck myself,’ even though it’s written all over your face.”
The thunder creeps closer, but still, she remains silent.
I wish she opened her mind link to me. I silently beg for her to say something. Come on, Princess. Do something. Fight. I know you have it in you. We talked about this just last night. I look up at the ceiling, repeating those words in my head like a mantra.
“I was wrong about you. I thought I saw a fighter. Instead, all I see is a weakling, a little brat who uses others to get ahead in life. I should have taken you to the orphanage when I had the chance. You don’t belong in the royal family.”
A loud crash booms over our heads, and rain pelts down on the rooftops, like bullets ricocheting off the metal shingles. The wind howls and beats against the windowpane. The dining room lights flicker.
Face red, eyes narrowed, she grits through clenched teeth, “What do you want from me?”
“Act like you want to be here! Act like you deserve to be here! Fight! Show me the girl who ran from the clinic when she woke up from her coma!”
Her breathing becomes labored, and she trembles. Emotions flicker across her face.
My skin prickles—fear, I can practically taste it. She closes her eyes and squeezes her hands into fists. Wind billows her hair softly around her face. I sense her loss of control and her fear that she will hurt someone.
Chris stops me from moving toward her again. “Don’t,” he warns.
“Get out of my sight,” Anders bites. “When you return home, pack your things. You don’t deserve to be a royal.”
The lights flicker again, and streaks of lightning flash just behind the windows, followed by another boom.
Her eyes open. “I can’t answer his question because I don’t have an answer!”
“You don’t have one? Or you won’t give one?”
A single tear rolls down her pale skin, her eyes rimmed with red. “What the hell do you want me to say?!” she screams.
“Anything to save yourself from the orphanage!”
“Then send me to the orphanage. You’re the one who insists on keeping me here on lockdown!”
Anders pushes, but she is so fucking stubborn. Chris holds up his hand, stopping Anders from continuing. “Jessica, just answer the question. There is no wrong answer. Or tell us what you heard in Dr. York’s mind, so we can understand.”
Tears fall more freely now. Tilting her head, she searches the ceiling, as if beseeching some ethereal being for strength.
She swallows. “When I first wanted to be in the guard, I wanted to learn how to defend myself, to fight so I wouldn’t have to endure…
that torture again. I wanted to protect others from enduring it as well.
I thought I could pave the way for other girls…
young women to join the guard. Then, I.. . I killed Boris.”
A woosh of air leaves Chris. He gawks at her, wide-eyed. For a moment, Anders and Elias look stunned. A barrage of images infiltrate my mind—the same images she showed me in my home. Anders flattens his palms on the table.