Reditus

by Mary M Wallace

  Declan didn’t know what she was asking. “Do what?” he asked. “Draw?” he motioned to the sketch pad and shrugged. “I just always could. I took as many art classes as they’d let me when I was in school, but even before that, I was always doodling on something.” He stopped talking when she began to shake her head.

  “Not that,” she said. “Lots of people can draw well or paint or sculpt or whatever,” she waved a hand almost dismissively. “I mean, how do you manage to get it so right?” She sighed, frustrated that she couldn’t find the right words. She tried again. “You see people. And then you somehow manage to draw them just the way they are. It’s a gift.” She handed him back his sketchpad. Declan took it absently, but he was thinking of her words. He looked at Bree for a long moment.

  “I just draw what I see,” he said simply. He didn’t know any other way to explain it to her. She sat up and leaned toward him. He met her halfway and kissed her. Smiling, she leaned back into her previous position and picked up her book. Declan flipped a page in his sketchpad and began drawing a new picture.

  This was how they’d spent a large number of their evenings over the last week, either at her place or Declan’s. They’d settled into a routine of sorts. After dinner, usually spent in the common dining area with the rest of the team, Bree and Declan would sometimes walk the halls for a bit before retiring to one of their quarters. Usually, Rowan joined them for dinner. He wasn’t part of their team, but he was family. Bree was finally beginning to think of this place as her home and this as her life, rather than a temporary means to an end. She knew that should bother her, but it didn’t. She was happy here in this safe little cocoon away from the rest of the world. They had all their needs met along with a good deal of their superficial wants, her family was safe, she was with Declan. As long as she didn’t have an active mission, Bree could almost forget the outside world and Ephraim’s army existed. She thought she could easily live here forever, if not for the lack of sunlight.

  She knew that it couldn’t last much longer. The war would intrude eventually. They’d been here for over a month. Zoe had become increasingly concerned during their phone conversations and Bree was running out of lies to tell about her absence at school or her plans to return. The ever–present guilt was gnawing at her and although she knew she could trust Zoe completely, she also knew that lying to her was the best way to keep her safe. At least that’s what everyone kept telling her. She trusted these people, but she wished there was another way. Plus, she missed her best friend. She’d grown closer to Sawyer over the last month and she counted the other woman as her friend, but she’d known Zoe for years and there was something about that kind of bond that she didn’t have with anyone else.

  Bree sighed and lowered the book to her chest. She couldn’t concentrate on the Great Siege of 1972. Declan looked up from his drawing, his gaze questioning. To her horror, Bree felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked hard and rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. “I miss Zoe,” she said quietly.

  Declan’s eyes softened and he tossed his sketchpad onto the coffee table. He opened his arms and said, “Come here.” Bree didn’t hesitate. She dropped the book to the floor and moved her feet from Declan’s lap. Turning, she shifted so he was leaning her back against him, her head tucked under his chin. Declan wrapped his arms around her and she placed her hands on them. She felt him kiss the top of her head. He murmured, “I know you already know this, but she’s better off not knowing. Safer.” Bree nodded but didn’t speak.

  “You’ll see her again. We’re going to find a way to end this thing and our lives can go back to normal,” he said. Bree didn’t know if he believed the words he was saying or not, but she pretended that she did. She nodded again and stroked her hands along his forearms. His words might not have made a difference, but the comfort and safety of his arms around her helped chase away much of her sadness. She breathed deeply and focused on the man holding her, pushing away thoughts of Zoe, the war, Ephraim and the world outside this room. For right now, this was all that mattered. Everything else would wait.

  Declan spoke, breaking the silence. “Tell me about your book,” he said.

  Bree smiled. She knew he was indulging her. He didn’t really care about Praetorian history. “Do you really want to hear it?” she asked. “I know you think all this history stuff is boring.”

  Declan kissed her cheek. “I like to hear you tell it,” he said.

  Bree pointed to a thick book on the coffee table. “Hand me that one,” she said. Declan leaned over and hefted the large book, handing it to her. “This is a little of the history,” she said. Declan’s eyes widened at the word ‘little’, but he said nothing. He’d been hoping to take her mind off Zoe and it was working. She opened the book and began flipping through it, looking for a particular page.

  “Okay,” she said. “Remember how Sawyer told us that the Praetorian Guard started with ancient Rome?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m not going to go too much into that, but it is pretty interesting. It started as this small group of soldiers, protecting the city and the emperor and putting down uprisings. They even did some volunteer fire fighting sometimes. Anyway, the guard eventually became too large an entity and corruption was everywhere. There was a core group of actual Praetorians, by birthright, but the Guard itself was made up of hundreds, maybe thousands more who had no abilities at all. The emperors of the time had grown power hungry and terrified of losing that power so they recruited these huge personal armies and called them Praetorian Guard, even though they had no actual link to the original Praetorians. They paid them to be their own personal mercenaries. One even had the guard kill the current emperor so that he could take over the throne.

  “Eventually, seeing that the organization had become corrupt and no longer stood for something good, most of the Praetorians with abilities––the real Praetors––broke away from the main guard, leaving it to its own devices. They worked to help the people of Rome for decades in secret. Over time, smaller groups broke away and moved to other countries and continents, continuing their work in secret. England, Australia, America. As the world became more settled, the Praetorians spread across the globe.”

  Declan smiled at hearing Bree’s voice become animated, caught up in the history she so loved to read about. He wouldn’t have chosen to read any of this information himself, but listening to her tell it was something he thought he could happily do forever.

  Bree went on, “This is one of my favorite stories. The first historical record of a woman Praetor fighting alongside men was in 1305 in Scotland. Until that point, women weren’t allowed to openly fight. They were expected to sit back and tend to the wounded or cook the meals. They could defend themselves, if need be and were taught basic self–defense, but they were encouraged to only use it as a last resort. During the English invasion of Scotland (which a group of Praetorians in England strongly advised the king against), a lot of English Praetors wanted to fight alongside the Scots but the council voted that they stay out of the dispute. It was argued that more people would die if they got involved. It was best to let the two sides fight it out amongst themselves. Some disagreed and left the group.

  “So, this woman, Alice Godfrey was one of the ones who left England to help the Scots in secret. The council turned their backs on guard members who went against their rule, so it was a big deal for a single woman in the late 1200s to just leave her home and safety to go help fight a war. At first, the Scotsmen were like all the other men of the time. They didn’t want a woman fighting with them. Even the Praetors she’d left England with were content to let the women stay away from the front, even the ones who had abilities that would be good in combat.

  “Alice wasn’t having it, though. She took some armor from a dead Scot and marched out onto the battlefield with the Scottish army and the other Praetors. Her ability was kind of a strange one. It’s described as a kind of shield but I think it was sort of like a force field. She could project it aro
und others too, as well as herself. When she came out of the first battle completely unharmed, the Scots started thinking of her as a sort of magical being. They couldn’t understand how she did what she did, but she was never injured. Over time, she could shape the field into a weapon. Literally, killing the English soldiers with an invisible blade. She became a legend.

  “When the war with England ended––that one, anyway––she was middle–aged. She took it upon herself to train the other female Praetorians to use their abilities to fight, instead of just helping after the fighting ended. By then, she was such a badass and had such a reputation that no one tried to stop her. Eventually, the council was petitioned to allow the Scottish “deserters” back into the fold. They agreed, but tried to argue against women fighting.”

  Declan chuckled. “Let me guess,” he said. “Good old Alice wasn’t having any of that?”

  Bree smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “She rallied the rest of the Scottish Praetorians—men and women—to stand up and say no. By this time, she’d been fighting alongside them for close to 20 years. They all knew her and trusted her. It wasn’t hard for them to follow her. The council saw it for what it was. They also realized that women fighting meant greater numbers and math doesn’t lie. Being practical men, they had no choice but to let it happen.” She twirled one hand out theatrically. “Thus, the birth of our modern Praetorian social structure. All because a lady named Alice saw something she didn’t like and decided to change it. It’s kind of cool how so much can change because one person stands up and says enough.” She trailed into silence but her words stayed with Declan.

  She closed the book and laid it on the floor beside the couch. She turned slightly in Declan’s arms, snuggling more tightly against him. “Thank you,” she whispered, smiling as she felt his arms tighten around her.

  He knew she realized what he’d been doing by asking her to tell him about the book. Still, he was grateful to hear the smile in her voice instead of the sadness from earlier. “Any time,” he said.

  Chapter 27

  Even on their free days, the team usually woke early and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. As a result, they often found themselves eating breakfast together. This morning, Declan and Bree were finishing up as Sawyer and Rowan entered with their food. They stuck around for a bit longer, the four of them seated together, talking and laughing. After a few minutes, Corbin joined them with his own breakfast. Bree thought back to that first morning and the tension between Corbin and Sawyer. It was gone now. The two of them seemed completely at ease together and Bree imagined that this was what they’d been like before that mission so long ago. Sawyer had told her that they’d talked things out after the incident in the training arena. She hadn’t gone into detail about that conversation, but Bree knew how Sawyer was. She preferred to keep her personal life to herself as much as possible. Bree didn’t want to pry; she was just happy that her teammates were finally getting along. Much of the sadness seemed to have faded from both their eyes since that first mission.

  She also hadn’t failed to notice Corbin’s gaze lingering on Sawyer when she wasn’t looking. She wondered if there was something more between them than just friendship, but Sawyer had never mentioned it and Bree hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to ask her. She had the feeling that conversation wouldn’t go over well. She was just glad the two of them weren’t at each other’s throats anymore.

  It had been over a month since their first mission and they’d been on several more since. Nothing as dramatic as that first night, but they’d all been deemed a success as everyone came home in one piece. Regardless, it seemed to Bree that they were one step behind Ephraim with every mission. They’d arrive to find buildings empty, seemingly having just been cleared out. She didn’t feel like they were any closer to understanding his motivations or stopping him than they’d been before she’d come here. As frustrating as that feeling was, she told herself that at least they were doing something. They were trying. Sooner or later, he would make a mistake that would benefit their side.

  After breakfast, Bree and Declan took a long walk. It was hard not to feel a little confined within the walls of the compound. Because of this, they took a lot of walks. They frequently ended up in the large room with the tree. She felt an odd connection to the tree that she couldn’t fully explain. They’d both come to be in this place where neither truly belonged but they’d found a way to survive and to thrive. She knew it was just a tree and she’d never tell her strange musings to anyone else, but she still liked to visit it as often as possible. When they got back to Bree’s quarters, Declan mentioned needing to speak with Conrad. He left her with a quick kiss on the cheek saying that he’d be back by lunchtime.

  As soon as she was alone, Bree went to her room and took Charlotte’s journal from the little table beside her bed. She wasn’t sure why she still hadn’t told anyone about the book. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to share it. She felt oddly close to Charlotte and although the woman was long dead, Bree felt a strange urge to guard the woman’s privacy. She was nearing the end of the journal and part of her was sad to see it end even as she felt an almost obsessive drive to finish it. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to learn. So far, she’d just ended up with more questions than answers, but it felt like she was in the middle of some great mystery and she needed to solve it. Taking the book into the living room, she settled onto the couch and flipped to the last entry she’d read.

  The further along Bree had gotten in the journal, the more melancholy the entries had become. Charlotte was dedicated in her writing so although the book was nearly full of entries, the writing so far had spanned less than a year of her life. She wrote of her desire for a family and her increasing frustrations with a husband who often left her alone for weeks at a time. She was conflicted because she loved Ephraim and respected his work, but she was intensely lonely. Watching her sister’s family seemed to convince her more fully that having a child would solve her problems. Ephraim had promised to stay home with her when they had children. They would raise a family together and she would be happy again. She was sure of it. The only trouble was that he didn’t seem ready to have children or to give up dangerous missions. When she would bring up the topic, Ephraim would usually change the subject or find a way to deflect without directly telling her that he wasn’t ready.

  In the last entry Bree had read, Charlotte had written that she was pregnant. She worried about telling Ephraim. Although he’d never said it aloud, she could tell that he wanted to wait a bit longer before having a child. She worried he would be angry with her, even as she was overjoyed at the thought of becoming a mother.

  I’ve suspected for weeks, but I now know with certainty that I am pregnant. I’m unsure how Ephraim will take the news. He’s been so reluctant to discuss the idea of having a child and he’s been so careful to take measures to prevent it. As for myself, I cannot pretend to feel anything but joy. I haven’t told anyone yet; not even Olivia. I know she would be thrilled, but for now I want to hold it close to my heart. When Ephraim returns home, I plan to tell him. My hope is that he will feel the same happiness at the thought of the new life we created together.

  As she read, Bree found herself smiling at the happiness that was so obvious in Charlotte’s writing. Her daily entries chronicled her early pregnancy symptoms with great detail and Bree almost felt as though she were there with her, witnessing it firsthand. When Ephraim returned, Charlotte was excited and nervous to tell him about the baby, but she finally worked up the nerve. She wrote that his reaction was mainly surprise. He’d seemed almost frightened of the idea of becoming a father but eventually he expressed happiness and wonder. He vowed to be the best father and husband he could. Charlotte gushed over his sweet, romantic gestures for her during the pregnancy. For the first half of her pregnancy, he didn’t take any missions that would require him to leave her for more than a single night. She was blissfully happy and her journal entries bordered on sappy. Bree found herself skimming over many
of these entries. She loved romance as much as the next girl, but she could only take so much.

  As she read on, one of the entries took on a different tone. Charlotte wrote that Ephraim had volunteered to take a mission that would mean his leaving for a week. She’d asked him to stay, to find someone else to go in his place. He had refused and they’d argued before he left. While he was gone, Charlotte’s emotions ranged from anger to despair to betrayal. She felt as though her husband had chosen the Praetorians over her and their child. Her love for him hadn’t lessened, but the new life growing inside her had changed her. The love and protectiveness she felt for her child had become the most important thing in Charlotte’s world.

  She thought of her baby often, wondering if it would be a daughter or a son, wondering if it would look more like Ephraim or herself. She imagined the child growing up and felt a sense of dread. She imagined having a perfect, wonderful child who would eventually grow up to live in the same world of violent uncertainty that she found herself in. Would she have a daughter who would grow up to marry an absent husband? Would she give birth to a perfect little boy who would eventually follow in his father’s footsteps? She’d never imagined how hard it must be for a parent to send their child off to fight and possibly die for whichever noble cause the council deemed necessary.

  Bree sympathized with Charlotte. Her own parents had chosen to leave rather than raise their daughter in a world of violence. Although she wasn’t a mother and couldn’t imagine that responsibility, she understood the desire to protect the ones you loved. She thought about the gift her parents had given her when they’d decided to raise her away from this life. She’d been able to choose whether she wanted to be a part of it. Charlotte hadn’t had the same choice. Bree turned her attention back to the journal.