Integrity glanced at the food and frowned. There was a slight film on top of the, no doubt cold, soup. The cheese on the sandwich was probably warm and squishy. “I'm sorry the food isn't fresher. It's probably not very good.” She knew that even cold soup and squishy cheese was better than anything Ben was getting in the prison, but she still felt like a heel for presenting such unappetizing food to him.
He laughed lightly. “Oh, yes, I'd much prefer my fetid water and moldy bread.” He sighed theatrically. “I guess I'll just have to make do with this feast.” His easy smile eased her nervousness greatly. He picked up the sandwich and handed half to Integrity.
“No, you eat it. You need it more than I do,” she protested, trying to hand her half back to him.
He tilted his chin down and looked up at her, making her heart beat erratically. “Please eat some. I'd feel like a dork if you didn't eat, too.” He gave her a pouty frown, as though he might start crying if she denied his request.
Letting her hand fall back into her lap, Integrity said, “Okay.” When he still made no move to eat, she took an obligatory bite of her sandwich.
“Thank you.” Ben took a huge bite and swallowed before speaking again. “So, tell me, why didn't you eat your lunch? It's obviously been here for a while.”
“It's the cheese, isn't it?” She wanted to kick herself for sounding like a desperate puppy trying to please its owner, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. “I'm sorry it's all squishy.”
Before she could continue, Ben laughed and held up a hand. “Would you stop?” he said gently. “The sandwich is great. I know you didn't eat your lunch because your tray hasn't been touched and,” gesturing toward the window over his head, “the sun will set in an hour or so. It's almost dinner time.”
Integrity looked at the sandwich in her hand, watched her fingers smash the bread. “I haven't been very hungry.”
A moment passed in silence. Her inner tension mounting, telling herself she shouldn't feel guilty for not wanting to eat, she finally looked up at Ben. He was finishing his sandwich. Gesturing at the bowl of soup, he said, “May I?” When she nodded, he picked it up and, tilting the bowl up, drank it down in one go. He wiped a hand across the back of his mouth as he set the bowl down. Looking at her intently, he asked, “And why haven't you been very hungry?” Integrity shrugged and looked at her hands once more. Realizing that she had mangled the sandwich, she set it down on the tray. Ben's smooth voice flowed around her, quieter now. “Why haven't you been eating?”
For some reason, Integrity found it much easier to talk if she kept looking at her hands, not studying her nails. “I guess I've been sad lately.”
“Why?” When he spoke this time, Integrity could sense how much closer he'd moved, closing the distance between them. She felt his breath on her hair as he spoke, but she kept her head bent. She wanted to shrug, but found it difficult to move, every atom of her being seeming to reach for Ben. When she did not speak, Ben whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear, “Have you missed me?”
She was surprised to find that her head was lifting, her eyes searching out Ben's face. He was so close. Her breath caught in her throat and stayed there for a moment. Ben brushed the fingers of his hand across her cheekbone, his icy skin causing her to shiver involuntarily. “I think you did miss me,” he murmured. Integrity dropped her gaze automatically, feeling as though Ben could delve into the depths of her mind, but he made a small sound of negation and raised her up to face him once more. His hand slid from underneath her chin to gently clasp the back of her neck. He moved slowly closer. Integrity felt light headed, like she might lose consciousness at any moment. With each beat of her heart she felt certain that his lips would touch hers, that he couldn't possibly get any closer without making contact.
“Oh.” The gasp was not loud, but it was enough to make both Ben and Integrity instantly alert. Their heads immediately snapped to the doorway, where Galia stood, a look of astonished shock on her face. The tray she held in her hands sagged lower and lower, as though she was unaware of its existence. Gathering herself, she jerked the tray back up and said, “My deepest apologies.” Obviously flustered, she set the tray down on the floor and turned to go.
Ben was up in a flash. “Galia, wait.” The girl stopped, but did not turn back. Ben walked to her, and, holding her gently by one arm, led her to one of the armchairs. “Please, sit,” he said, and Galia, after a moment's hesitation, did so. Integrity stood, walked over, and hovered behind Ben, not sure what to do. Ben sat down on the coffee table and ran his hands roughly over his face, up, down, up again, and over his hair to the back of his neck. He sighed deeply. “Do you have any idea how bad your timing is?” He sounded tired rather than mad.
“I have an idea, sir,” Galia said meekly, sitting stiff as a ramrod.
He sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, and looked at Galia. Integrity felt nonexistent. “I'm going to have to ask you to not tell anyone that you saw me here.”
“Certainly, sir.” Integrity hadn't heard Galia talk like that since they had become friends. She sounded so robotic, so servile . . .
“I mean it, Galia.” A tone of authority rang in Ben's voice. “No one can know. You can't tell anyone, for any reason, at any time. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” No emotion, no sense of confusion or curiosity, no sense of Galia . . .
Ben stood swiftly. “You are excused. Show no sign of anything out of the ordinary.” Galia rose and exited the room without a glance at Integrity.
Her stomach churning, Integrity looked at Ben. She'd never seen him like this. While he hadn't been rude, he hadn't been the Ben she knew. Is he mad at me?
Ben turned to her and, seeing her worried expression, gave her a reassuring smile and pulled her into the comfort of his arms. “Hey,” he said gently, “why so worried? We can trust Galia.” He pulled back and smoothed the hair away from Integrity's face. “She protected us before, right? She'll do it again.”
“I trust her, I'm just worried about you.” After a slight pause, Integrity asked, “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” he crooned, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “You didn't do anything.”
She shrugged noncommittally, relieved that he wasn't mad at her. She didn't like confrontation, ever, but tension with Ben was so bad. She had enough tension in her life; she certainly didn't need any more.
He sighed and gave her a tight smile. “I should probably go.” She could hear the reluctance in his voice. She had an insane urge to jump on him, wrap her arms and legs around him, and never let go. Thankfully, it passed before she could act on it.
“When will you come back?” Please tell me I didn't just sound that desperate.
He reached out and touched her arm lightly. “Soon. As soon as I can.” Integrity felt her heart turning to lead, sinking lower and lower in her torso as she watched him walk to the window, give a brief wave, then disappear over the sill and down the building. She didn't have the strength to watch his descent. Giving her suddenly weak knees a break, she sank into the nearest armchair. She shivered slightly in the brisk breeze that flowed through the still open window, but couldn't bring herself to close it. As long as it stayed open, there was a chance that he'd come back. Wasn't there?
Đ
The next day Integrity felt jumpy, waiting for Galia to come with her breakfast. She knew she'd have heck to pay over yesterday, and she wasn't entirely sure what she would say. What could she say? “Sorry that the guy I want to call my boyfriend, who, incidentally, is supposed to be in jail, was mean to you” didn't seem quite right.
When Galia finally rapped on the door, Integrity was on her feet instantaneously, smoothing her shirt nervously. Integrity said, “Hi,” trying to sound cheerful, but Galia simply nodded her head. Without ever making eye contact, Galia set the tray down, then turned and started for the door again. Obviously, she was upset. “Galia, wait.”
Galia stopped, but didn't turn to face Integri
ty. “Do you require something, miss?” Her voice was cool.
Feeling like a heel, Integrity threw her arms out wildly. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? Ben was a jerk yesterday. I should have told you about him. I don't know why I didn't.”
“Is that all, miss?”
Integrity grunted in frustration. Moving across the room, she placed herself directly in front of Galia. “Please don't be mad with me.”
Finally raising her gaze, Galia looked confused. “I'm not angry, miss.”
“Miss. Miss! Don't call me that!” Realizing how mad she sounded, Integrity smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Now I'm being a jerk. If you're not mad, how come you won't talk to me?”
“We can talk, if that's what you'd like.” Integrity could see that Galia just barely stopped herself from calling her “miss” again.
When Galia made no move, Integrity said, “Come sit down, at least.” An awkward silence grew while the two situated themselves. “So,” Integrity hedged, “don't you have any questions or anything?”
Galia fiddled nervously with her hands, something that was extremely out of character for the normally calm girl. “Why was Ben here?”
Integrity shrugged. “I don't know. He came to visit me.”
“Did you help him get here?” Galia was still looking at her hands, avoiding Integrity's gaze.
“No,” Integrity replied, confused. “How could I? I never leave this room.”
“Did you ask him to come here?”
Integrity was starting to get frustrated. “No. I haven't talked to him since we were brought back. He just came.” She tried to keep the impatience from her voice.
“So he came here of his own accord?” Galia was looking intently at Integrity now.
“I guess so. I didn't force him, if that's what you think.” What, does she think that Ben couldn't possibly want to see me without being compelled?!?
“Oh, no, that's not what I meant at all. I just . . .” Galia trailed off.
“You just what?” Integrity had no idea what they were even talking about anymore. Galia shook her head slightly. Integrity took a deep breath, then said, “Please, Galia, what were you going to say? I promise I won't get mad.”
Galia waited a moment, then looked at Integrity, a look of resignation on her face. “I'm trying to understand. Will you answer a few more questions?” Integrity gestured for Galia to continue, and she said, “Why did you leave here with Ben?”
Integrity scoffed. “What do you mean, why did I leave? I was a prisoner! Why should I stay?”
Galia looked at her hands for a moment, still now, seeming to store that information. “What happened while you were away from Westmarch?”
Integrity felt strangely defensive. 'Nothing happened! We stayed at a few hotels, drove a lot. That's it.”
Galia studied her for a moment, then straightened and took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Do you know what Ben is?”
Integrity rubbed her eyes roughly. “What's that supposed to mean? Ben's Ben.”
“Why does Westmarch exist, Integrity?”
Galia's face was so serious, Integrity had to suppress a shiver. She felt a sheen of sweat break out along her hairline. Barely more than whispering, Integrity countered, “Why does Westmarch exist, Galia? Why are any of us here? Why hasn't the Army swooped in and leveled the whole place?”
“I'm not certain I should tell you.” Galia sounded apologetic, even as she almost visibly withdrew.
Forcing herself to keep her voice low, Integrity said, “What could I possibly do with the information? What harm could I cause?”
Galia stood and walked the length of the room. Integrity didn't know how long she could stand the silence. After what seemed an eternity, Galia turned to face Integrity and said calmly, “The reason your Army has not destroyed Westmarch is because they do not know it is here.”
Integrity wrinkled her eyebrows. “How can they not know you're here? It's a freaking castle! You can't exactly hide it!”
“Regardless, your country does not know Westmarch exists.”
Integrity shook her head in confusion. “Okay, whatever. So why is Westmarch even here?” Better to get some answers that don't make sense than no answers at all.
Galia walked back toward Integrity while she answered. “Westmarch exists so that we have somewhere to live.”
Integrity wanted to punch something. “What's that supposed to mean?” She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice. When Galia did not provide any further information, Integrity gritted her teeth and asked, “And why do you need a place to live that's so far away from everyone, a place that the U.S. doesn't even know about?”
“We do not mix well with your people.”
Integrity stood, frustrated at the vague answers she was getting. “My people? What do you mean by my people? Are you aliens from another planet?” Sarcasm ran fluidly from her lips.
Unexpectedly, Galia laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers and struggled to gain control of herself. “No,” she laughed again, “we are not extra-terrestrials.”
“Okay, so then what are you?” Integrity threw herself back into her chair, more roughly than she intended to—two of the legs left the floor and she had to flail wildly to keep from tipping over backwards. Not exactly how I want to appear in a serious conversation, she thought grudgingly.
Galia's face sobered in an instant. “This is precisely what I'm not sure I should tell you. Do you honestly not know?”
Integrity felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. Something's not right. “No, I honestly don't know. Why shouldn't you tell me?”
Avoiding the question, Galia queried, “Have you any guesses as to what we are?” When Integrity shook her head blankly, Galia continued. “Why should we choose to live so isolated? Why do we have our own system of government? Why do we have a king and queen?”
“The only thing I've ever thought is that you might be a cult, polygamists or something.”
“We do not practice a polygamist lifestyle, nor are we a cult. We choose to live so removed that we may lead the life we choose without interference.”
Integrity swallowed. “And what is that life that you choose?”
Galia studied her intently. “You really don't know, do you?” She sounded mystified. “I'm afraid I'm not the one to tell you our secrets.” Before Integrity could protest, she held up a hand to silence her. “I need some time to ponder on this. I'm afraid you'll have to grant me that much. There is obviously a reason why Ben has never told you about us.”
Integrity felt the sharp ache in her forehead that meant she was about to cry. “Galia, please!” she begged. “I don't understand any of this, or why you won't just be straight with me!” Despite her efforts, a tear slid over her bottom lid and dropped down her face.
Galia looked remorseful, but firm. “Give me until tomorrow. That's all I ask.”
Integrity wiped at her face angrily, shoving the tears aside. “I don't have much of a choice, do I?” Bitterness colored her words, turning them an unpleasant shade.
Galia gave her a sad smile, then stood. “Tomorrow.” The single word hung in the air long after the girl had left.
Đ
Galia struggled to order her thoughts as she walked down Integrity's hallway, carrying a silver tray with two minute cups filled with a thick, dark liquid. How she phrased her questions would be vital.
She had spent the past several hours trying to subtly gather information about Integrity and Ben, all to no avail. No one seemed to know that the girl even existed, and as far as anyone knew Ben was on an indefinite hiatus. It was odd—usually the staff was plugged in on everything at Westmarch.
She stopped for a moment before she turned the last corner to make sure her hair was smoothed into place and to adjust her skirt. Turning the corner, she walked fluidly down the hallway toward the two guards, her long stride the envy of any runway model. The smile on her face was natural, unforced. “Hello,” she
said softly, careful to keep her voice low enough that Integrity wouldn't hear her, but loud enough that the guards would not suspect.
Bowman, the elder guard, nodded silently, but Paul lit up; Galia didn't normally greet the men when she came to bring the prisoner food. “I brought you some refreshments,” she continued, practically purring. Paul looked slightly stunned and Bowman tried to appear nonchalant. Neither man could hide their pleasure when they saw what was on the tray.
“Where did you get it?” Paul breathed, almost reverent. As he picked up one of the small cups, he said, “It's even warm!”
Galia laughed lightly. “I would not serve it any other way.” She held the tray out to Bowman, who took the cup after only a slight hesitation. Both men threw the drink back like a shot. While Bowman plunked the cup back on the tray, keeping his macho exterior, Paul closed his eyes and savored the moment before running one finger around the inside of the cup and then shoving his finger in his mouth. He handed the cup back rather sheepishly. When he moved to open the door for Galia, she motioned for him to stop. “I'm not going in just now, but thank you.”
“I wondered why you didn't have any food. That girl's sure having a hard time adjusting.” Paul looked ashamed when Bowman made a noise of disgust.
Eager to continue the conversation, Galia said, “So you think it's odd that she requires so much food?”
Glancing quickly out of the corner of his eye toward Bowman, Paul replied, “It's not my place to think anything. My job is to keep her in the room and everyone else out.” Somewhat flustered, he amended, “Except for you, of course.” Galia could see that he was mentally kicking himself for rambling on.
“You should get outta here with that evidence,” Bowman grunted, nodding toward the tray. “The uppity-ups wouldn't be happy to know you'd taken anything from their stash.”
Still in control, Galia raised one finger to her lips. “What they don't know won't hurt them.” There was so much more she wanted to ask, but she sensed that Bowman was growing suspicious, so she decided to cut her losses. “You're right, I have ample work to occupy my time. I'll be back later to take care of the girl.” Both men watched her walk down the hallway until she was out of sight, then resumed their normal stances and became as still and lifeless as statues.
Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series Page 8