by Miles, Amy
Bastien slips down onto the floor, kneeling beside me. “I don’t expect you to say anything or even respond in any way. I just… You deserved to know nothing has changed.”
He starts to leave, but I reach out and grasp his hand. He turns, surprised. “Tomorrow, we leave for battle…” I trail off, feeling heat stain my cheeks.
“Yes.”
I know it isn’t fair for me to ask, but I do all the same. “Will you stay with me? I just… I need to be held.”
I know what this request costs him. I can see it in his eyes as he nods and helps me rise. He turns his back as I peel out of my jeans and slip under the covers. Crossing the room, he opens the cupboard and pulls down a spare blanket.
The mattress creaks as he sinks down on the bed beside me. He slowly unties his boots and sets them aside. He pauses with his hand over his zipper, and I hold my breath, wondering if I should turn away. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he meets my gaze, holding it for a moment before he twists and lies down beside me, covering his fully clothed form with the blanket.
I roll onto my side, my mind a mess of doubts and fears until he turns to cradle me. Stretching his arm around me, he cups my elbow in his hand and rests his cheek against my back. I breathe out a slow breath and close my eyes, comforted by his presence.
Fifteen
Warm sunlight streams down onto my face through the window, glowing beyond my eyelids. I don’t want to move for fear of breaking the spell that sleep has woven over me, calm and peaceful.
I blink as I wipe away the last dregs of sleep. The snowbirds call forth the new day, and I must rise. As I stretch my arms overhead, bending them to accommodate the headboard, I instantly become aware of the fact that I’m alone in the bed.
Placing my hand on Bastien’s pillow, I realize he has been gone some time. His warmth has fled, yet his scent still lingers. Rising up onto my elbows, I see that his blanket has been neatly folded and left on the chair.
I don’t remember him leaving me during the night. He must have tiptoed out in the early hours before dawn.
A smile crosses my lips as I roll over to find a single flower laid across the pillow. I lift it and breathe deep its rich aroma. Bastien, I sigh inwardly. If only you could be mine.
A deep exhaustion still clings to my body as I push back the covers and double over into a full stretch. My muscles are sore and weary, unprepared for the battle that lies ahead. Today we’ll begin our journey to Drakon’s base. By nightfall, we’ll be deep in enemy territory.
The ever-present reality that this might be my last day on Earth hits me as I run my hand over the space Bastien lay upon. My nails trail over the silky emerald blanket as I resist the urge to scoot to his side of the bed, just to feel close to him again.
Let me go while you still can, I think as I glance about the room, taking in all the small details that Bastien knew only I would appreciate. Pillows are piled high around the headboard, far more than any guy would ever need or want. It is only now that I realize there are white eyelet lace curtains framing the frosted windows and real glass in the frame, not plastic or worn spare material. The mums smell lovely as they stretch toward the light of the sun. The vivid yellows, oranges, and reds are brilliantly backlit. This is a room I could’ve fallen in love with under different circumstance.
Grasping a small jug perched upon a stool beside the sink, I pour clean water to wash up with, finally cleaning away the dirt, grime, and tears from my body. I take the time to wash out my hair, towel drying the excess moisture from my long strands before heading for the wooden closet where I dumped my bag yesterday.
I bend over to reach for my bag but realize the door is ajar. Drawing the door toward me, I’m inundated by the scent of Bastien. I close my eyes as I try to deny how easily it affects me, dredging up memories of being in his arms. I slam the door shut and turn away, my hands shaking slightly as I dig out my black uniform top and pair it with my camo pants. I need a day of being me instead of who everyone else expects me to be.
I’ll no doubt stand out when I walk through camp, but to be honest, after yesterday’s meltdown, I don’t think there are too many people who aren’t going to stop and stare.
It takes me longer to lace up my boots than it should, the quiver in my fingers not having faded completely. I run my fingers through my hair and consider winding it into a bun but decide against it, letting my damp hair flow freely down to the middle of my back.
If Eamon were here, he would scold me for being so careless, reminding me that I would catch a cold in the blustery winter air. This is precisely why I don’t dry my hair. Because there is no one to nag me.
I glance at myself in a small mirror that has been propped up on a rectangular table, its white pine top layered with uneven grains, yet to be sanded. As I grab the mirror, I wonder if Bastien overlooked this detail or if he found beauty in the flaw.
Pinching my cheeks to liven up my washed-out complexion, I set down the mirror and take a deep breath. One night with Bastien is hardly enough, but it is all I can hope for.
I don’t look forward to seeing Niyah. Will she know Bastien stayed with me? Is she the reason he snuck out?
Sometime during the night, Bastien confessed to me the truth behind his relationship with the olive-skinned beauty. She is his genetic match, just like Eamon and he are mine. Another relationship torn apart by a destiny that none of us could control.
Bastien can no more love Niyah than I can swear him off. Kyan had hoped that when Bastien met Niyah, something within him would trigger, allowing him to move on, but Kyan’s plan failed. Instead of bringing Bastien peace, he only made things worse.
To his credit, Bastien tried to warn Niyah, but he told me she wouldn’t listen. For some reason, that bullheaded streak of hers doesn’t surprise me. It certainly makes sense why she was so fiercely protective when I showed up. She knew she didn’t hold Bastien’s heart. I do, even if I can’t accept it.
Closing my eyes now, I remember the moment he stole my heart for the second time.
“Were you ever tempted by her?”
He shrugged indifferently. “She isn’t you. Even if she is the right one for me, I would never choose anyone over you.”
“But you have Niyah…”
He took my hand in his and drew it up to his lips. “But she doesn’t have me.”
Those final words tore through my poorly constructed willpower and sent it tumbling to the ground. I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on Bastien that I was doomed, and he just sealed my fate… again.
The base is a barren wasteland today. No one is in the training yard. No one dares to brave the freezing temperatures. Except me.
The rope burns in my hand as I pull myself up the wall. My feet shuffle higher, slipping dangerously on patches of ice. Gritting my teeth, I release the rope and leap the final five feet. My numb fingers grip the top lip of the wall. I grunt as I slam into the wood, smacking my ribs against the wooden planks.
“That was a foolish thing to do,” a voice calls from below.
I swing my weight back and forth, tossing my leg up so it catches on the ledge. With my arms trembling, I pull myself upright, perched with one leg on either side.
“Afraid I was going to fall?” I call down to Niyah.
“Hardly.” She rolls her eyes. Her chestnut hair is drawn tightly back from her face into a severe bun. A few wisps fly away about her temples. Her cheeks are rosy from the wind. “We leave in less than an hour and you’re here risking your life like an idiot.”
I grin and swing my leg over the side. She cries out as I push off from the top of the wall and plummet. She hardly has time to raise a hand in warning as I land with a solid thud on the ground. The top layer of ice coating the mud-slicked yard spider-webs around me as I rise.
She looks between me and the thirty-foot wall. Her gaze hardens as she drops her hand. “You like to show off, don’t you? Makes you feel special. Better than everyone else.”
I grin as I wal
k past her, making sure to toss my hair into her face as I pass. “Nope. I’m just better than you.”
I sense the attack a split second before she strikes. Ducking to the side, I narrowly miss a well-aimed kick to my head. I spin and crouch low, weaving side to side. She matches my movements, never dropping her gaze as she circles around me.
Her lips peel back into a sneer, her hands poised in front of her. “What are you waiting for?”
“For someone to stop this childish display,” a voice calls from behind us. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know Bastien stands less than ten feet away. Judging by the sounds of scuffling feet, he isn’t alone either. “I come out here to get you two so we can leave and I find you brawling.”
“It’s not exactly brawling,” I say, rising from my crouch. “I haven’t hit her yet.”
She takes a swing at me and I step back. Niyah growls as she spins and leaps toward me. Her eyes widen in surprise as Bastien’s arms close around her, yanking her back. “Enough. If you can’t let this go, I will leave you here.”
“But she—” She starts but cuts off at a fierce shake of his head.
“You are a soldier. Start acting like one.” The temptation to stick out my tongue at her is nearly more than I can bear. “And you.” He rounds on me, his neck stained red with anger. “What were you thinking to jump off that wall? You could’ve been hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
Bastien steps closer to me, blocking Niyah’s view of us as he gently takes my hand in his. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he whispers.
Painfully aware of Niyah’s close proximity, I step back and offer him a rueful smile. “I thought you like a bit of danger.”
A smirk cracks his stern exterior. He rushes to wipe it clear as he turns and addresses the men at his back. “Let’s head out.”
All are suited up and ready for battle. Their uniforms are black as night, their laser guns newly polished and charged. Thick woolen coats fall over their broad shoulders. Their faces are nearly completely concealed by facemasks to keep out the worst of the cold. Heavy black gloves protect their hands.
Small packs rest between their shoulder blades. There is no need for hiking packs. The trip to Drakon’s base will be done by vehicle.
It is time.
Niyah makes sure to bump my shoulder as she passes. “Stay away from Bastien or you’ll regret it.”
The winds whip about my legs with cruel intensity. I tuck my hands deep into my armpits to keep them warm. Strands of hair whip about my face, lashing against my wind-burned cheeks, but I don’t free my hands to tuck the strands back. There is no point. In only a few seconds, they’ll be yanked free again.
The metal truck bed below me is frigid despite the blanket tossed over the floor. Six men huddle around me. The sound of teeth chattering can be heard over the crunching of ice beneath the tires.
I haven’t spent much time in trucks. I can still remember the first time Kyan made me step foot into one. I clung to the dashboard with such force that I nearly ripped it clean from the windshield.
Gasoline is still a rare commodity. It is too volatile to be transported over open roads so it is smuggled in small barrels across enemy territory. Sky Ships are the best mode of swift transportation, but that won’t help us today. I personally don’t feel like being shot down from the sky.
The men around me are silent, each trapped within their own cocoon of misery. Mine has little to do with the elements, though. My internal battle is one that can’t be won, knowing my failure will endanger the lives of the men beside me.
These are the same thoughts I ponder each time before I enter battle, but today is different. It is not just my life that I worry about. I have never truly fought beside Bastien. We ran for our lives a few times but never really fought. What if he makes me lose focus and someone gets hurt?
Surely Kyan knew this would be a struggle for me. Knowing him, he thought it would be a good training exercise. He does have a way of turning potentially deadly situations into a learning experience.
My unofficial bodyguard sits beside me, his shoulders nearly wide enough to span a third of the truck bed. His arms are mounded with muscle, his neck so thick I doubt Bastien could fit two hands around it. His hair beneath his hat is cropped short into a military cut. His eyes are wide and alert as the forest blurs past us.
Bastien is being overprotective. If this had been Eamon, I would’ve accepted the guard with a lot of sarcasm and no small amount of protests, but not with Bastien. I know his fear is stemmed from an emotion far deeper and far more frightening.
We both know how horribly wrong this mission might go. Bastien’s only concern is getting me back out alive, mission accomplished or not. Gorgan will see to it. It wouldn’t surprise me, should the battle take a turn for the worse, if he doesn’t toss me over his shoulder and barrel straight through walls just to get me out.
Despite Gorgan’s imposing height and breadth, he is actually a rather gentle giant. His voice is deep and velvety. His smile is broad and warm enough to melt the ice from the end of my nose. “Are you warm enough, miss?” he asks, leaning in closer.
I nod, biting against the near constant tremor in my lip. Without asking permission, Gorgan curls his arm about my shoulder and draws me into his side. Bastien casts a glance toward us but nods his approval before returning to his conversation with Olaf, a man who loves his knives even more than I do.
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Illyria?” I smile up at my guard.
“At least one more time, miss.”
I laugh and gratefully sink into his side. There is zero cushion to snuggle up to, but beneath his arm, I can feel the ice beginning to thaw from my bones.
Niyah leans forward to interrupt Bastien, placing a hand possessively high on his thigh. I try not to stare, but it’s hard in such a confined space. I would’ve felt better if he’d shoved her hand away, but he is too busy arguing his point to notice.
“Don’t worry about her, miss,” Gorgan calls down to me softly. The man beside me emerges from the collar of his uniform to glare at us. I can’t seem to recall his name, but the scent of smoke hangs thickly on his jacket. It sparks a memory—campfires and melting pots used to create new ammo. He yawns and returns to his dark hovel. “She’s usually like this before battle. All fierce and blustery. It’s just her way. Don’t take it personally.”
Oh, it’s personal all right.
I stomp my feet against the truck bed as we whizz down the road. What started out as a mildly cracked concrete street has given way to a rutted dirt road slicked with ice and downed tree limbs. The driver seems particularly bent on hitting as many bumps as possible.
Dorian, son of Milorn, sits before me, his shoulder-length white hair flapping freely in the wind. If his white hair were not startling enough, his tiger eyes would be enough to make you pause. I long to ask how this could be. I’ve only ever seen vivid, solid colors. Never a design such as this, but Bastien warned me against speaking of such things to him.
This young man has a love of crossbows with poison-tipped arrows. He is currently in mid-argument with his companion Adonis, a stark opposite of Dorian. Where Dorian is white and fair, Adonis is ebony skinned with tight black curls upon his brow. Adonis carries four laser pistols. Two at his hip, one at his back, and one tucked into his boot. Gorgan warned me to watch out for him. He is as deadly with his charm as he is with his guns.
“All right, listen up, everyone.” Bastien’s voice cuts through the winds. I lean in close. Gorgan does the same, and I remain within the shelter of his arms. All hint of merriment vanishes, replaced with a grim tension that I know all too well. “The attack plan is simple. We get in and get out. No alarms. No firefights. We meet our transport soon for the next leg of our journey. Conserve your energy. Keep your weapons dry. Stay alert.”
He smiles at each man in turn. “You are the best of the best. That’s why I picked you.”
I half expected so
me form of acknowledgement to Bastien’s praise. A smile. A nod. Something. The men remain stone cold as statues. They’ve been trained well. Bastien should be proud.
“We ride through the night to read the edge of the southern province by dawn. From there we will gain access to a second transport and travel throughout the day. Our plan is to arrive at Drakon’s base before sunup. We’ll use the cover of night to hide our approach.”
“Illyria’s mission is to acquire a ship,” Niyah says, assuming command from Bastien. He leans back, watching. I can’t tell from the depths of his hood if his gaze is upon me, but I have a sneaking suspicion it is. “Our sole purpose is to assure her safety until that time. If we fail, she fails. That is not acceptable. Is that understood?”
The men dip their heads in unison. “Good. Prepare to disembark. We’ve got a long trek before us.”
Sixteen
The next day is a blur of snow, ice, and darkness. We sleep when we can, alternating watch shifts. During the day, we huddle under blankets to keep from being seen from the air above. Our truck has been painted white to help conceal it on the snowy roads.
The shocks of the old truck are worn and in disrepair, making our ride even more excruciating than necessary. As I watch the moon drift across the sky on the final night, I vow that if I must, I will walk home.
My hips ache; my head pounds. I’m hardly in proper condition to fight. None of us are, but that doesn’t matter. I can tell by the tense set of Bastien’s shoulders that we’re drawing near.
No one talks. The last of the untouched food was tossed over the side nearly ten minutes ago. I hardly remember chewing let alone what exactly it was that I ate.
Nervous tension ripples through my back, stiffening my already tight muscles. My legs are cramping. My only prayer is that I don’t fall out of the back of the truck when we stop.
My stomach is queasy as the vehicle begins to slow, skidding slightly on the newly frozen ice. I grip the edge of the truck, willing myself not to be ill. I don’t want to show any weakness, but I’m pretty sure vehicle travel doesn’t suit me.