by Nina Walker
I’d forgiven my parents for abandoning me all those years ago. The truth was, they didn’t know what they were agreeing to when they gave me up. They didn't realize they’d never see me again. At least, that was what my father told me. He’d said he knew I would be raised with the alchemists, but not that the officers who’d taken me would completely cut my family from my life.
I sighed. No matter what happened, or what my parents had believed, it was in the past. It was over and done and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it anymore. And truthfully, it wasn’t their fault. It was King Richard who was to blame—it was the result of a failed system.
He leveled his head with mine. “I mean it, don’t say that. Your mother and I love you just as much as your sisters.”
“Okay.” I smiled, the feel of it on my cheeks was tight and forced.
He meant what he said, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still hurt. His kind words didn’t take away the feelings of abandonment that lingered within me. Maybe only time would heal that, or maybe it would never heal.
“How’s your friend doing?” He dropped his gaze, digging a line along the dirt with his boot. “The one you came back with who was hurt?”
I smiled wide, thinking of Tristan. “He’s fine. I healed him as soon as I could.”
“He’s lucky to have you.” Christopher winked. He put an arm on my shoulder, squeezing once. “And you’re lucky to have him. Take care of each other out there.”
I nodded, biting my lip, fighting the urge to hug him. It was stupid. I should just hug him.
“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” he asked one more time.
We stood together outside the barracks where I’d spent the last three days anxiously awaiting orders for another mission. People rushed around us; it seemed everyone had a job to do but me. They paid us little attention. Dad watched me, and as if sensing what I needed, he pulled me into a hug.
I breathed him in, gazing out at the distance, trying to focus on something other than the torn emotions inside. The sun was rapidly setting over the horizon, the orange semi-circle dipping low and sending out shards of golden light in its wake. With it, a biting chill had settled into my bones.
“I’m sure,” I replied. Something came bursting from me in that moment. Love, maybe? I hugged him back as hard as I could, letting myself sink into him like I had when I was a child. It was unexpected. From his quick intake of breath, I gathered he hadn’t been expecting it either. This was new for both of us.
“Take care of yourself,” he mumbled into my hair. “When all of this is over, we will be a family again.” Then he released me and, giving me one final nod, walked away.
I hoped he was right.
But at the end of the day, my mission wasn’t to my family; it wasn’t even to West America. It was to take care of the alchemists. When this was over, someone needed to make sure alchemy wasn’t treated like a weapon anymore. Magic wasn’t something to be feared, but rather, something to be celebrated and used for good.
I chuckled at the madness of the idea. When had I become such an idealist? As long as those in charge had control over alchemy, our freedom wasn’t a likely scenario. It was too tempting of a power, and too ... different.
But I had to try.
I walked around the base camp for over an hour, ignoring the biting air, trying to survive the torrent of emotions that burned me. Night fell, and still, I continued, arms tight around myself, coat doing little to keep out the cold, boots clomping on the crisp earth. Under the icy air was the faint smell of gasoline and gunpowder. The camp was a mix of metal buildings and thick canvas tents, with clear roads between the buildings. It was sparse but had everything we needed.
Everything I needed was here.
What if I really do want to be part of my family? Should I have left with Dad? I shook the fool-hearted thought away. This was my place. I needed to fight, and I couldn’t do it from anywhere else. Still, why did I feel so broken inside? I’d just given up the opportunity to get out of this mess and let someone else deal with it. Why did I have to be so determined and passionate about protecting the alchemists, when it was my own heart that needed tending?
I groaned and dug my boot into the dirt, leaning forlornly against the nearest building. The cold metal bit into my back, not that I cared. A hot tear fell down my cheek, and I hurried to wipe it away.
“Ugh, get a grip,” I said, slapping my cheeks. I’d turn into Jessa by morning at this rate! I hated acknowledging my emotions. And I especially hated to cry. It was too ... exposing. And weak.
“Are you okay?” Mastin’s voice split through the darkness like a bullet.
I closed my eyes for a second, shame burning, before turning to meet his worried gaze.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I stated.
He nodded once and then moved to rest against the building next to me.
“Why?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew. He was angry with me for nearly getting us killed back in New Colony. It didn’t take a genius to know that. Truth was, I didn’t blame him.
“You confuse me,” he finally said.
I glowered at his profile, the darkness broken only by the security lights and the sounds of distant soldiers. “What about me is so confusing?”
“It’s not you, exactly. It’s not even what you do because your actions are rather predictable.” He seemed to be weighed down by his statement.
“Wow, thanks,” I grumbled.
“It’s how I am when I’m with you that confuses me.” The light caught the planes of his face, eyes piercing.
I let out a breath. “So actually, it’s you who confuses you. Not me.”
He laughed, an addictive sound I wasn’t used to hearing from him. It unnerved me, setting me off my axis, as if everything I saw in him was magnified by that one single laugh.
“What is Tristan to you?”
I stilled. His question threw me off guard. “He’s my best friend.”
“Is he more?”
“No.” But even as I said it, I wondered if that was the truth. Lately, even I didn’t know what Tristan was to me.
“He’s a good man,” Mastin stated.
I nodded. “He’s a good friend.” I emphasized the word friend.
“Nothing more?”
I stared at the ground, dragging my foot along the dirt in a line. “There was a time when I thought maybe Tristan and I would become more.” My voice caught in my throat. “But no, we’re friends and that’s all. That’s what is best for both of us.”
“I don’t think he agrees.” His voice was low and questioning.
I laughed, the feel of it bitter in my lying mouth. If he’d overheard the conversation Tristan and I had back at the farm, the conversation where Tristan had told me to date Mastin, I don’t think he’d be so argumentative. “Trust me,” I said.
He leaned in closer, shifting so we were only inches apart. I studied his green eyes, now shadowed in the darkness. His boyish scent washed over me, making me almost hungry. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the thought. “Still, I don’t think I can compete with that.” He said as he held me in his intense eyes and then they flicked to my lips. A sense of urgency welled up inside me, the hunger begging for a taste.
“Who says it’s a competition?” I whispered.
His eyes shot back to mine. “Isn’t it?”
Never breaking eye-contact, I slowly shook my head.
Then I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. He stilled for a moment, holding me at arm’s length, but then pulled me against him. My mind emptied as he deepened the kiss. For once in our relationship, I was happy to let him take the lead. He was relief and danger all in one, safety and risk. He was everything I wanted. As my lips muffled his inner groan, I wondered if maybe I was everything he wanted, too.
My legs burned. My breath raced in and out as my heart rate climbed. I pushed on, one foot in front of the next, careening forward. It did little
to quiet the thoughts tumbling in my head. Normally running was my escape, the best way to work through my problems—or better yet, to forget them entirely.
Today was not that day.
I careened to a stop, panting for breath, shoulders heaving up and down, waiting for my body to adjust. The morning sun pressed down, the unseasonably warm day reaching into my core. A smile swelled on my salty lips. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple, and I wiped it away with the back of my forearm. The nerves anchored like a rock in my stomach, I stood, taking in my surroundings.
People bustled between the rudimentary steel buildings. The smells of ozone, packed dirt, and rain on its way circled me like a shiny-eyed crow, reminding me of where I was, of what I was, and what I needed to do.
Today I had to tell Tristan about Mastin.
It wasn’t as if Tristan hadn’t seen this coming—he clearly had. Tristan knew me better than anybody. And he and I were just friends, had always been just friends, so it wouldn’t be a big deal that I was dating someone. He would probably be happy for me and that would be the end of it.
Still, I hated how much I was bothered by the thought of telling him.
I walked down the gravel path that led to the main gym. Although Tristan liked to run, the man had always been into boxing, and that’s where I’d likely find him. I pushed the nerves down, opened the heavy door, and strolled inside.
The first thing that hit me was the heat, so stuffy and thick, it was like walking into a wall of air. That could be blamed on the multiple bodies lifting weights and boxing in a small building without air conditioning. But it was the smell that hit me next, an odor truly assaulting, like an onion that had been left to rot in the sun all day. I wrinkled my nose, held my breath, ignored the grunts of testosterone-infused men, and scanned the room.
It didn’t take long to find him. My heart dropped.
His dark hair shined with sweat, his expression set in determination. He landed a punch on his opponent with so much force the other guy fell onto his butt. Unfortunately, the other guy was Mastin.
“What the hell?” I ran forward. “Are you two fighting?”
Mastin sprang back up, barely fazed by the blow. But I could tell he was frazzled, not only by the line of his mouth but by the swiftness of his rebound. Frazzled and angry. The pair didn’t glance my way, instead matching each other blow for blow and kick for kick. Relief washed through me to see they had gloves covering their fists, considering their punches seemed to be fueled by more than the need for exercise. Tristan’s eyes blazed as he took a punch. Mastin jumped out of the way, a goading smirk curving his hardened mouth.
“Seriously!” I yelled at them. “This is not normal.”
Another round of punches flew, blood and spit spraying from both men’s bruising faces. The gloves were making little difference. Couple of idiots! They needed to be focused on the common enemy, not each other.
“We’re just sparring,” Tristan growled. “Nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Mastin?”
“Right,” Mastin grunted, and then he dove for Tristan, who used the sharp jut of his knee in retaliation.
Most of the other soldiers had stopped to gawk at the show. I sent the group a pleading look, knowing they could stop this. But they only cheered the fighters on further with their hollers and bets. I rolled my eyes, annoyed, but also angry. This spectacle was ridiculous and embarrassing. I put my hands on my head as Mastin took a right hook to the chin, spittle and blood arcing from his face. I grimaced, sharing the pain. I should walk away, let them get this immaturity out of their systems. But my feet were rooted to the floor of packed dirt. My fingers itched to use my magic and intervene, but that might make things worse.
Mastin rounded a kick right into Tristan’s kneecap, and he fell with a pained yelp. Mastin used the momentum to attack, jumping on Tristan’s back.
Oh, screw it!
Luckily, my necklace was refreshed with new stones, and I connected with the yellow. It spun out in little strings before settling into me. I jumped between the guys and used my strength to separate them. It was easy, as if they were children and not grown men practically twice my size.
“Sasha, don’t!” Mastin growled.
“I got this,” Tristan snapped, pushing back at me. I didn’t budge.
“If you two aren’t going to act like civilized adults then I’ll have to do it for you,” I said.
I stood my ground, keeping them apart with outstretched arms. For a moment, they pressed against my palms, each flailing to get at the other. Mastin stood back first, arms crossed over his chest as he huffed the air from his lungs. He studied Tristan, then me, pained calculation lighting his jade eyes as they flicked back and forward between us.
I turned back and switched to the green magic, letting it pour into Tristan, who was now unfocused and giving in to the pain. He was bleeding in a few places, and I was certain his knee was broken after that kick. His face scrunched in agony as he held his leg slightly off the ground, finally sinking to the earth, a low groan emitting between gritted teeth. The green magic wormed its way into all the broken parts, healing him in a matter of moments and clearing the pain from his face.
But only momentarily.
He jumped up, brushing himself off and leveling me with a steady gaze. “We were fine.”
“That’s right,” Mastin added, voice deadpan. “We were sparring, a little fun between friends.”
Tristan scoffed. “Yeah.”
“You two are so full of it.” I threw my hands in the air. “But fine, if you want to beat the crap out of each other, so be it.” I pointed east and glared. “Forget that our actual enemies are out there, right now, planning ways to kill us all. Sorry if I think your time would be better served doing other things than injuring yourselves!”
“You’re right,” Tristan said, backing away. “Forget it.”
He stormed from the gym, anger rolling in his wake. I ran after him, catching him just outside the gym.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He spun to face me, squinting against the sun. “Shouldn’t you be back there helping your boyfriend?” All the venom had left his voice now, only defeat remained. Any anger I’d been harboring was lost in an instant.
I stopped, lost for words. Was Mastin my boyfriend? Part of me bristled at the word. Such a needy little word it was. But another part of me lurched forward. We hadn’t technically defined it as such, we were busy with the war, after all. But we were definitely something. And we had agreed to see where that something went, at least when we weren’t busy kicking enemy butts and saving the world from evil dictators.
Last night had been amazing. But it had also been private.
“How do you know?” I asked. And here was the real question. “Why do you care? We’re friends, you and I. You were the one who told me I should date Mastin in the first place.”
He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight.
“Are you counting backwards from ten right now?” I challenged.
It was one of his ways to cope when he was angry. Tristan hated to be angry, said it made him feel like his father. I’d never met the man, but Tristan had confided in me long ago that his father had been abusive toward him and his mother. He still felt guilt for getting out because he’d had to leave her behind in the process. That had been years ago, but the pain of it still lived on.
He snapped his eyes open, raking his hands through his hair. “Yes, I know about it. The guy told me.”
“I was supposed to be the one to tell you. I’m sorry.” Embarrassment washed over me and I shifted squeamishly on my feet.
He shrugged, his face softening. “It’s okay. Really, I just want you to be happy.” He paused, holding my gaze. “If he’s who you want then that’s okay with me. I won’t fight him again or anything.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t fighting, just good-natured sparring?” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. “It started off that
way, if that’s any consolation.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure it was.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go.” Tristan backed away. “I’ll see you around.” He turned and jogged away.
I stormed back to the gym in search of Mastin. He was lifting dumbbells and smiled broadly when he saw me, the earlier pain in his expression now vanished. And that was fine by me. I didn’t want to deal with jealousy; I had already picked him!
It appeared he’d already wiped away the blood by the look of his dirtied shirt. His biceps pulsed as he lifted, eyes squinting through the bruising that was purpling his cheeks. I placed my hand over my necklace with the intention to take care of him, but he brushed me away with the shake of his head.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t sure if it was on principle or because so many of his friends were watching, soldiers who were still uneasy about my magic. Now they’d seen it in action again, they were staring at me like I was contagious. A few were standing with arms folded over their chests, eyes glaring in attempts at intimidation. And still, others seemed to pay me no attention at all, going about their business.
But they all had one thing in common. They all kept their distance.
“All right,” I replied to Mastin. “Let’s get out of here.”
Mastin’s smile curved and he dropped the dumbbells to the earth with a thud and a small cloud of dust. We strode out together, a few whistles in our wake.
The moment we left the gym and had a moment of privacy, he ran his hand down my arm and laced our fingers together. We walked down the path between the buildings. Quiet for a while.
“Why did you tell Tristan?” I asked. “We agreed I was going to do that.”
“He asked.” Mastin shrugged. “I wasn’t going to lie to him. And besides, you don’t need that guy.”
I tugged on his arm. “Don’t say that. You know he’s my best friend.”
He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, a knowing smile lifting his lips. “Yeah, I know. But he doesn’t get to do this.” He widened his stance, dropping closer to my level, eyes flicking to my lips.
He softly kissed the side of my face, trailing the tip of his nose down my jaw until his mouth found mine. I sunk into him, losing myself in the feel of it. We stayed like that for a few minutes, caught up in each other, when someone cleared their throat loudly, breaking us apart.
