by R. H. Scott
“That doesn’t mean you should get him killed.”
He pulled away from her. “Sloan, can we not do this again . . .”
“Just tell me—” she began, but was quickly cut off by the reappearance of Marshal Romani.
Once again, she put distance between herself and Jared, standing to attention. “At ease, soldier. I just wanted to say I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow night.”
He smiled, his tight mouth twisting upward, before turning and disappearing down the corridor.
Sloan turned to Jared. “What’s he talking about?”
“Tomorrow night, before the Calling, he wants me and you to meet the Order.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Some important guests are arriving or something.”
Sloan nodded, no longer wanting to fight with him. Were other seniors invited or just she and Jared? What guests would be at the Academy that demanded their presence before a Calling?
“Just us two?”
“Probably. Like I said, I don’t know— he just told me to get ready for the Calling and go to the Order beforehand.”
Sloan nodded as they made their way to an open pod. She didn’t like having plans sprung on her and she never liked being around Romani. She wanted to know what he had planned for her and Jared, but she supposed they would find out soon enough.
That night, Sloan went to the Infirmary. Jared had fractured two of Kenny’s ribs, knowing injury was the only excuse to miss a War Conference Collective. She idled down the hall, glacial footsteps staggered by her own fear. There was nothing anyone could say to her to make Tandy’s death less painful; how could there possibly be any words to help Kenny? Slowly, Sloan made her way to the bed number and hesitated at the curtain.
Finally, she managed to speak. “Kenny . . . it’s Sloan.” She hoped he was already asleep.
“Sloan?” His familiar voice cracked through her . . . what was she going to say to him? She couldn’t turn back now. She closed her fingers around the curtain, pulling it back slowly. Kenny was lying in the white bed, sheets pulled up to his chest, his hands resting on his stomach. His short hair was messy and he had large blue circles under his eyes. His usually bright face was sallow and gaunt. He looked sick, like he hadn’t slept in weeks . . .
Which he probably hasn’t.
“Hi, how are—” Sloan began, but she couldn’t ask how he was feeling. So instead, “How are your ribs?” stumbled from her with uncertainty. She approached his bed slowly.
“They’re fine. The nurses offered to do a rapid fix, but I opted for the old-fashioned wait-it-out approach . . .” His tone was all she needed to hear to know how he was feeling. His voice no longer had that natural uplifting quality. Conversation with Kenny had always been easy, and despite not being on her table, he had always been with Tandy, which meant she had plenty of time to form some semblance of a friendship with him. She had viewed him as a friend, at least before. What plagued her now was wondering how he viewed her, after she had forgotten him in his time of need.
Was it too late to repair their friendship—was there even a friendship without Tandy? She had been thoughtless for forgetting about him, but she was stupid for coming here now with hopes of normalcy too. Things would never be normal again, not for the two of them. Not without Tandy.
Kenny looked past her. “Is Jared with you?” Sloan sighed at his question. She should have brought Jared—he had remembered to care about Kenny’s pain. She would just say what she could and leave him be.
“Look, Kenny, her Dismissal . . . it hurt me too much, so much so that I no longer thought about who else was hurting. I was selfish and I wish I had handled it all differently.” It was the truth and it was all Sloan could offer him.
He nodded at her thoughtfully. “It’s okay, Sloan. Jared explained everything to me.” She had barely spoken to Jared about it, so what could he have possibly explained? Suddenly, Kenny perked up, looking over her shoulder. “You did bring him! How are you, man?”
Sloan felt a warm hand against her back and suddenly Jared was standing beside her. “I’m doing alright, Ken, how about you?”
Sloan watched Kenny transform in Jared’s presence. He sat up in his bed, a half smile crossing his face, eyes wide as he watched Jared. Jared nudged Sloan to sit on the foot of the bed, which she did. He stood over her, an arm locked around her. Sloan couldn’t have been more thankful. Jared, once again, had somehow known she needed him.
Kenny held his hands up, animatedly talking about his rib injury. Sloan nodded and smiled, laughed where appropriate, and as the time passed she didn’t think about Tandy, or her frustration with Jared, or worry about Kenny in the Betrothal Calling. She had blissfully fallen into the familiarity of their conversation, admiring Jared for his unfailing ability to captivate people. She was reminded of why she loved him so easily: Jared was the one person who could make your life seem like it was a thousand times better than it truly was.
Jared patted Kenny on the shoulder as he said goodnight to him. “Get those ribs sorted out so we can get back to sparring. I need the extra training going into Fight Night,” he offered kindly. Sloan felt a weight come over her at his words. She didn’t want to think about Fight Night, not after such a pleasant evening. She wanted that feeling of normalcy to last just a bit longer . . . but it was clearly gone.
“Goodnight, Kenny.” She smiled at him.
“Sloan, can I have a minute?” Kenny asked, staring at her intently. No. . .
But she said, “Sure,” and nodded, squeezing Jared’s hand desperately as he left the two of them to speak.
She awkwardly sat back down and Kenny abruptly took her hand in his. Had he ever held her hand? She couldn’t think of a time. He didn’t seem to think it strange, though, as he held on to her. “I wanted to thank you.”
Sloan stared down at his tightly clasped fingers, curling around her own. “You have nothing to thank me for.”
He shook his head at her, his eyes sad. “I wanted to thank you for loving her as much as I did, for suffering a broken heart as much as I am, for not knowing what to say to me this whole time because I haven’t known what to say to you either.”
Sloan’s hand was shaking in his. “Kenny, if I could change what happened . . .” she offered, trying to steady her voice, forcing herself to look into his heartbroken eyes.
He shook his head, his jaw clenched, holding back tears. “There is no changing it. She will never come back to us.”
Sloan leaned over and pulled him into a hug, holding on to him to ease the pain they both felt. After the longest moment, she released him and stood. There was nothing left for them. A heart never fully heals. After enough time, you just learned to live with the pain, and the pain existed for a reason. A reminder that part of you had disappeared along with the love you lost.
It was the saddest realization of Sloan’s life.
She shook the thoughts away, patting his knee. “Get some sleep. I will see you tomorrow.”
“I will see her soon,” Kenny whispered.
Sloan felt her blood turn to ice, her hand freezing above the bed, her ears pricked up, keenly aware of every noise on the Infirmary floor. A cold shudder ran down her spine.
“What did you just say?”
He smiled at her question, his kind eyes watching her. “I said, I will see you soon.”
Maybe she was going crazy, it had been a long day and she could have misheard him. I didn’t mishear him, I know I didn’t . . . “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “What did you think I said?”
She stared at him and her heart pounded under his intense stare. She nodded slowly. “Nothing. Never mind.” She seemed unable to shake off the uneasy feeling, even as she disappeared behind the curtain.
She turned down the hall and found Jared waiting by the exit.
She broke into a run, rushing to him, into his arms. She breathed in his warmth, believing that as long as he held her, she was incapable of falling to pieces. Her heartbeat was so heavy she could hear its strained pounding against his chest. What if someone had your whole heart and they let it break? If they hurt you beyond salvation?
She squeezed him tighter and loved him for his immediate response of holding on to her with all his strength. Sloan didn’t know why the thought came to her, but she couldn’t help but realize that she truly felt safest in the arms of the most dangerous person she knew.
Sloan couldn’t help but think about everything that went into a Betrothal Calling as she dressed for the night ahead. The assessments took the students just under six months to complete. The process tested students’ personality, mental acuity, emotional response, physical ability and intelligence. The machine responsible for processing the data and creating viable matches was called Nuptia. A viable match was made when two students shared 98 percent compatibility, and while it was probable for a handful to share lower percentile compatibility, it was near impossible to find multiple matches at a 98 percent tier. During your last exam you could write down a preference for your match. Sloan figured that was for the students’ benefit, to believe you had some role in deciding your future. She had written Jared Dawson down in thick capital letters. She had checked it and rechecked it, until she was certain no one could make the mistake of thinking she wanted anyone else.
She sighed, the memory still lingering in her mind, as she pulled her hair over her shoulders, regarding her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She couldn’t help but think of Tandy while getting ready. Someone would have had to remove her friend’s data from Nuptia.
Whose job was that?
“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” Jared asked, appearing in the bathroom. Sloan eyed him up and down; he was glowing in his military whites. How had she been so lucky to be matched to the boy she had fallen in love with years before?
“I’m thinking about you,” she sighed, turning away from him to check her appearance again. Her long blond locks fell loose around her face, but there was nothing she could do about the slight bruising on her pink cheeks, a result of recent spars, nor could she change the exhaustion she saw in her golden eyes.
“Thinking good things, I hope.” He stood behind her, locking his strong arms around her. This was her favorite place—tucked in against his powerful frame. His strength was something she both loved and feared. She had given her love to a champion fighter, certain if anyone could keep it safe, it would be him. She had never thought about the potential danger in letting someone who could kill with his bare hands hold on to her heart.
He would rather die than hurt me, she thought . . . but he was hurting her. He was keeping secrets from her. And when he held her she knew she could love him through anything. But that didn’t mean she should.
She turned in his arms to face him. “I need you to change your mind about Fight Night, Jare.”
At her words he began to pull away. Sloan couldn’t help but feel that whenever he let her go, he was letting go of them. It was a fleeting feeling, but it shook her to her core.
“We talked about this already.”
She grabbed his hand. “No, you talked. Can’t you just see that you don’t have to do this?”
Sloan searched his blue eyes, looking past the unrecognizable for the familiar. He looked down at her, regarding her patiently. “This is a special night for us,” he said. “Let’s talk about it later.”
She nodded her head, acquiescing, if only because they didn’t have the time to argue; they couldn’t be late for Romani. He pulled her into his embrace. “There will be a later,” she promised. She nuzzled against his strong body, resting her head against his chest.
She wanted to be able to hear his heart still beating.
Jared held on to her hand tightly as they navigated the white corridors. They were headed for a senior floor conference room, one Sloan was certain she had never been to before. They still had no indication as to why Romani had asked to see them before the Calling, but Sloan had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
“I don’t like this, Jare,” she complained, tugging at his arm as they neared the large white doors.
He glanced down at her. “It’s fine. We’ll be in and out in no time.”
She sighed, continuing down the corridor to the doors. Jared knocked and after a minute of silent waiting, both doors opened. Two Academy guards flanked the doors, gesturing for them to enter.
Apprehensively, Sloan stepped into the room, letting go of Jared’s hand. Some sort of party was going on. The large white room had a wall made up entirely of windows from which you could look down on the training field and the rest of the Academy. There were white sofas, where people Sloan didn’t recognize sat, engaging in conversation, sipping on drinks. A quiet classical piano tune filled the room, as servers dressed in ivory uniform carried silver platters around, navigating through the small group.
In the corner of the room Stone stood, leaning against the window. He was speaking to Colonel Luke, but as his eyes found hers he stood up straighter, as if he was surprised to see her.
She turned to walk towards him but the sound of her name froze her.
“Captain Dawson and Lieutenant Radcliffe!” Romani called, crossing the room with a quick stride.
They both stood to attention, saluting their marshal. He smiled at their formality. “At ease, at ease, this is a party.”
Since when did he have a cheery side? Sloan wondered, eyeing him up warily. Jared had spent more time with the Order; was this a side of Romani he had seen before?
He quieted down and eyed her and Jared up. “Ready for the Calling, I see, very good.”
“Yes, sir.” Jared nodded. Sloan ran her hands over her white dress.
“Well, I won’t keep you long. I simply have a few visitors who would like to meet you both, if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me?” he explained, extending his arm out to the side.
Sloan glanced up to Jared but he looked as baffled as she felt. What is going on here?
Romani waited, his arm still outstretched. Jared took a quick breath and then walked towards the back of the room. Sloan followed closely. Romani overtook her and guided them to where a single Academy guard stood blocking a doorway. The guard saluted and then opened the door. Jared walked in first, followed by Romani, and then slowly, she followed.
They had entered a small room with fluorescent ceiling lights and nothing but plush white leather seats. What is this room even for?
Romani walked to the center of the small room, directly under the lights and in front of the chairs. “I will need you two to stand here. This won’t take long.”
“Sir, if you could possibly tell us what you need—” Jared began, but Romani shot an enraged glance towards him, silencing him.
“Captain Dawson, have you not asked me to assist you in a favor later this evening?”
Sloan looked from the marshal to Jared—what favor? What was he talking about?
“Yes, sir. Apologies, sir,” Jared answered formally, standing up straighter.
“Very good. As I said, if you two could please stand here, this won’t take a moment.”
His voice was tense, on the verge of cracking. Sloan rested her hand against Jared’s arm and guided him to the center of the room, appeasing Romani. She glanced around but everything out of the reach of the fluorescent light was too dark to make out. The door was still open and she could see a handful of people making their way over from the party.
Romani stepped into the doorway, turning his back to them. Sloan laced her fingers into Jared’s, glancing up to him. “What’s going on?” she whispered. He looked down at her and shrugged, sincerely uncertain.
Sloan took a deep breath, standing close to Jared under the bright light. Peop
le began to shuffle into the room—Stone, followed by Colonel Luke, Lieutenant Barden . . . the entire Order had come, and several people she didn’t recognize. Sloan felt her stomach tense, beginning to sense her and Jared’s purpose here. There was a woman wearing a neatly pressed pantsuit, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun; a young man, with short blond curls and dark eyes that traveled over Sloan as he made his way to a chair; and an older man, who wore thin-rimmed spectacles and had a bushy grey moustache. Sloan watched the three take their seats, directly in front of where she and Jared stood. The majority of the Order followed suit, except for Stone, who stood, arms crossed over his chest, an angered look across his stern face.
Romani stepped towards her and Jared, stroking his chin with his white-gloved hand, a tight smile still pressed into his face. The Academy guard closed the door and they waited in silence.
“Mr. Franc, Ms. Beaumont and Mr. Degrassi, these are the two I have spoken about to you.” Romani addressed the three strangers.
Sloan eyed them up—she had definitely never seen them before and she couldn’t recall ever hearing those names. The three of them looked over her and Jared and then quickly leaned into one another, exchanging hushed whispers.
Sloan didn’t know what to do. Who were these people? What had Romani told them about her and Jared? She focused her eyes on Stone but couldn’t quite catch his gaze.
“May we?” The stern woman—Ms. Beaumont—spoke. Romani nodded animatedly, seeming to understand her request.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he answered, waving them over. The three of them stood and crossed the small distance, stepping into the fluorescent light. Ms. Beaumont and the older man approached Jared; standing but inches away from him, they began to look him over—inspecting him. The younger man came straight up to Sloan, his intent gaze traveling over her slowly.
She leaned back, wanting to put space between herself and this stranger. She glanced to Romani, wanting to know what was going on, but he just watched as she and Jared were made spectacles of.