by Rachel Aaron
“Yes, ma’am,” Rosalie said, relieved.
“And your entire squad has kitchen duty tomorrow for keeping me up late dealing with this rot,” the lieutenant added grumpily, pulling out her papers again. “Dismissed.”
* * *
The paved training yard was dark and empty when Rosalie finally left Brigitte’s tower. All the soldiers were still at dinner, lingering over their meager rations to stretch their one hour of free time before bed as long as possible. Given the hollowness in her stomach, Rosalie should have joined them. But hungry as she was, sitting down next to her fellow soldiers like nothing had happened felt impossible. So she sank on the steps leading up to the wall and tried to sort out how everything had gone so wrong.
She’d come here to use her superior training in the fight against the titans. Instead, she’d nearly gotten eaten, disobeyed orders, almost started a riot, and been demoted to the lowest rank the Garrison had—and that was just in her first two days.
Rosalie sank lower on the step, dropping her head into her hands. All those big words to her father about showing these poor, under-educated soldiers how it was done, and she was the one who’d been shown up. No wonder everyone here thought she was playing soldier. She didn’t know the first thing about life in the Garrison, as the last two days had clearly shown.
Sniffing, Rosalie forced herself to sit up and dry her face. This sort of thinking was unbecoming of a Dumarque, and it didn’t help anything. If she quit now, all she’d do was cement her defeat, and it was far too early for that. Obviously there was a lot more to fighting on the front lines than she’d assumed. But she could learn. All she needed was someone to teach her, and though the thought made her stomach sink, Rosalie knew just the person for the job.
With that, she hauled herself off the step and set out to look for Jax.
* * *
Finding him proved much harder than anticipated.
The soldiers on watch were eager to talk to Rosalie now that word had gotten out that she was one of those Dumarques, but none of them knew where Jax was. When Rosalie asked if he’d gone into town, the men had laughed for a solid minute. Apparently, Jax never left the base, not even on his nights off. Not even during paid leave, which was absurd. As training for her inevitable marriage, Rosalie had helped her mother manage their household staff for three years, and she’d never had an employee choose to spend their vacation at their job.
Things only got odder from there. The other sergeants said Jax never came down to play darts or cards. The cooks said he never ate in the mess hall. According to everyone she asked, Jax never went anywhere or did anything, at least not with other people. Rosalie was starting to think he was a ghost who appeared only to torment recruits when she bumped into a veteran happy to help.
A handsome old tower guard with steel-gray hair and a battle scar across his left cheek, Cooper not only claimed to know where Jax was but seemed delighted to give Rosalie directions. He was so helpful, she was a little nervous she was walking into a prank. But when she followed his directions to the top of the Trost Gate, there was Jax, sitting alone with his back against one of the big cannons, reading a battered, pocket-sized book by the light of the full moon.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Private,” Jax said without looking up. “But I’m not obligated to see you until tomorrow, so kindly piss off.”
Rosalie set her jaw and walked out onto the gate until she was standing beside him. “Sir,” she said, keeping her voice as clear and genuine as she could, “I’d like to apologize for my actions today.”
“Are you deaf? I said piss—” He stopped suddenly. “Wait, what?”
“I’m sorry for firing the cannon and for disobeying your orders,” Rosalie clarified, bowing formally, from her waist, as she would before a nobleman. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I did not fully understand the situation. It was arrogant and wrong of me to assume I knew best, and I am very sorry for the trouble I caused you and the people of Trost. I promise to listen next time and obey your orders exactly.”
She ducked her head even lower to show her sincerity, but when she straightened up, Jax was staring at her in bewilderment. The expression lasted a full five seconds before collapsing back into his usual sneer.
“If it were up to me, there wouldn’t be a next time,” he grumbled, closing his book. “I don’t even understand why you’re here. You’ve got money and a family who cares enough to spend it on you, and I’ve been hearing all about how famous your dad is. A girl like you could get posted anywhere she wanted. Woermann would probably give you his captaincy if you asked nicely enough, so why do you insist on bothering us? What do you want?”
Rosalie looked him straight in the face. “I want to fight the titans.”
“Oh, well, mission accomplished,” he said sarcastically. “You shot one into bloody chunks. Now go home.”
“One isn’t enough,” she said, desperate to make him understand. “I want to push them all back. You keep harping on about how rich my family is, but the titans don’t care that Dumarque is an ancient and noble house. If we don’t fight them, we’ll be just as dead as everyone else.”
“Good.”
“Not good,” she said, clenching her fists. “Why can’t you see that we’re all in the same boat?”
“ ’Cause I never been in a boat,” he snapped, rolling to his feet. “You want to help the war against the titans? Go home and tell your rich dad to up the Garrison’s budget. Some decent gear would do a lot more good than you prancing around on the wall shooting cannons.”
“I am going to talk to my father about the situation here,” Rosalie said angrily. “The lack of proper equipment for the front lines is deplorable. But that’s not the only thing I can do. You told me earlier that I had no idea what I was doing, and I see now that you were right. I don’t know anything about life on the wall, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn. I want to get better, to fight the titans as well as you do.”
Jax rolled his eyes. “Save your flattery for someone who cares.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you,” Rosalie said earnestly. “I saw what you did today with my own eyes. You killed ten titans in the time it took me to unstick a rusted cannon. That’s the sort of soldier I want to be. One who can fight the titans and win.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Jax snapped.
“Then teach me,” Rosalie said, stepping closer. “You accuse me of being ignorant, but the cure for ignorance is to learn. If I don’t know anything, instruct me. Show me how to be a proper Garrison soldier by your standards, and I promise I’ll never be a burden to you again.”
Jax stared down at her, his blue eyes gleaming black in the moonlight before he turned away. “No.”
“Why not?” Rosalie demanded.
“Because I don’t like you.”
“How can you say that?” she asked. “You don’t even know me. How can you dislike someone you don’t even know?”
“I’ll dislike anyone I want!” he cried. “You nobles might own all the land left in the world, but you don’t own me!”
“I’m not trying to own you,” Rosalie explained patiently. “I’m just asking you to—”
“And I’m saying no,” Jax snarled, crossing his arms tight over his chest. “First, I don’t want to, and second, it ain’t my job. Recruits are supposed to come to the wall fully trained. If you want someone to hold your hand, there’s a thousand idiots downstairs who’re dying to teach Lady Rosalie Dumarque whatever she wants to know. Go bother one of them. I’d transfer you myself, but Brigitte thinks it’s funny to tie you to my back. But don’t ever assume that just because I’m forced to be your sergeant means I care, because I don’t. The only thing I want from you is for you to be gone. That clear enough for you?”
“I’m not asking you to like me,” Rosalie said firmly, meeting Jax glare for glare. “All I want is a chance to pro
ve I belong on this wall. Just give me one month. If you teach me, I swear I’ll do anything you say. I will listen and work hard, and if you still think I’m not serious by the end, I’ll leave. I’ll resign from the Garrison with no questions asked, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Jax tilted his head like he wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. “Anything I say?”
“Well, obviously I won’t commit treason or do anything criminal,” Rosalie said quickly. “But if it’s important to the wall and my training, then yes. Pretty much anything.”
“You sure you ’bout that?” Jax said, leaning in until he was looming over her. “The rumors about me ain’t all true, but they’re not all wrong, either. If you’re stupid enough to sign on knowing that, I’ll teach you just for the joy of watching you fail, but understand this’ll be a hell of your own making. I’m not playing around.”
“Neither am I,” Rosalie said, glaring back at him.
Jax arched a dark eyebrow, and then he stepped back with a shrug. “Your funeral, then,” he said, putting out his hand.
Not having spent much time around commoners, it took Rosalie several seconds to realize he wanted to shake on their deal. Once she did, she grabbed his calloused hand hard, trying to squeeze his fingers just as painfully as he squeezed hers.
“Training starts first thing tomorrow,” Jax said when he let go. “Be up here one hour before the bell, and if you’re not waiting when I walk up the stairs, you’re done.”
“I’ll be here,” she promised. “You won’t regret this.”
From the look on his face as he walked off, Rosalie suspected Jax already did.
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In the predawn dark of the next morning, Rosalie got to the top of the wall fifteen minutes before Jax had told her to be there, and she still beat him by only a hair.
When he saw her waiting, her torch already set in the holder by the cannons, his face turned sourer than an old grape. He didn’t even say hello before ordering her to start on jumps, and not the sort done with maneuvering gear. These were regular old jump squats, crouching down until her thighs were parallel to the ground before leaping as high as she could. The moment Rosalie landed, he ordered her to do it again, over and over and over until her legs were on fire.
Jax didn’t even bother to watch. He just sat on top of one of the big stationary cannons, eating an apple and reading his book, which she could now see was an ancient copy of the Garrison’s Rules and Regulations manual. He yelled whenever the sound of her feet hitting the ground slowed to anything less than a frantic pace, but otherwise he didn’t say a word. If he hadn’t been so obviously trying to discourage her, Rosalie would have been furious at him for wasting their time. She knew his game now, though, and she doggedly played along, jumping to the absolute edge of her ability until the morning bell rang.
She collapsed on the ground, panting as spots danced in front of her eyes. She was debating whether to throw up when a hand suddenly appeared in front of her.
When she looked up, Jax was standing over her with a grudging look on his face. “That wasn’t as bad as I expected,” he admitted gruffly. “Another few months and you might be passable.”
“A compliment?” Rosalie asked as she grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Jax scowled and yanked her to her feet. He let go as soon as she was standing, returning to his cannon to grab a small packet wrapped in brown paper.
“Here,” he said, tossing it at her.
Rosalie grabbed it out of the air right before it hit her in the face. “What’s this?”
“Breakfast,” he answered, hopping back up onto the cannon to finish his apple. When her eyes widened, he looked away with a sneer. “Don’t act like it’s your birthday. I’m not feeding you because I want to. It’s just there’s no way you’ll make it to breakfast with your legs in that condition, and Lieutenant Brigitte threatened to dock my pay if I starved any of you again.”
That was a lot of excuses, but Rosalie let it be. She was too busy ripping open the packet, her mouth watering when she saw two slices of honey-smeared bread and a small apple. “Thank you,” she said as she shoved the bread into her mouth.
Jax waved the words away and hunched lower, staring down at his book like he was trying to burn a hole through the page.
“Do you enjoy reading the Garrison Rules and Regulations?”
His jaw clamped tight. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just making conversation,” Rosalie said, pulling out her pocket knife to slice the apple into wedges. “But since you asked, I noticed you reading it last night as well, and I was wondering why. It doesn’t exactly seem like a riveting choice.”
“It’s not exciting, if that’s what you mean,” Jax said sourly. “But knowing the rules and regs inside and out is key to surviving up here, and it ain’t as though I’ve got anything else to read.”
Rosalie stopped cutting mid-slice, her jaw falling open in horror. “You don’t have any books?”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Rosalie knew she’d stepped in it. “No, I don’t,” Jax snarled, his face turning red. “Books cost a lot of money, and some of us got more pressing concerns, like food and not freezing to death. Not that you’d know about that.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosalie said immediately. “You’re right, that was thoughtless of me.”
Her quick apology seemed to throw him. “Yeah, well, don’t do it again,” he grumbled, turning away.
Rosalie couldn’t help herself. “What if I gave you a book?”
“I don’t want your damn charity.”
“It’s not charity,” she said. “You’re giving up your free time to train me. It’s only fitting that I offer something in return. Since you’re my officer, it’s against regulation for me to pay you money—”
“Section one, article fifteen, paragraph two,” Jax recited. “Regulations Regarding Bribery.”
“—but it doesn’t say anywhere that I can’t loan you a book,” Rosalie finished. “I kept several when I sent back my—” She stopped. Jax had never mentioned the incident with her luggage, which could only mean he didn’t know about it. Not wanting to lower his already rock-bottom opinion of her, Rosalie skipped ahead. “Anyway, I’d be happy to let you borrow one.”
Jax glared at the ground, his face a dark cloud. But the promise of reading material that wasn’t a rules book must have been a strong temptation, because a moment later, he gave her a sideways look. “What you got?”
Rosalie popped her last apple wedge into her mouth to hide her grin. “A bit of everything,” she said, limping toward the stairs. “Let me go down and get them, then you can pick the one you want before we report for kitchen duty.”
“You mean before you report for kitchen duty,” Jax said. “I told Brigitte you volunteered to fill in for me.”
“What?!”
“Consider it part of your training,” he replied smugly, getting more comfortable on his cannon. “Bring your library up tomorrow and I’ll have a look. Until then, I believe Cook’s expecting you in the kitchens.”
Rosalie shot him a killing look. But she was the one who’d promised to obey his every command, so she swallowed her pride and started down the stairs, hobbling as fast as her aching legs would go.
* * *
Despite being considered a punishment by both Jax and Brigitte, kitchen duty wasn’t actually that bad. It mostly involved sitting in the warm mess hall peeling potatoes, practically a holiday compared to scraping bird poop while dangling over titans.
Rosalie took a while to figure out how to cut the slippery potato peel quickly without also cutting her fingers. Once Emmett showed her how to slice away from he
rself, though, things got much better. So much better, they actually finished early. Rosalie was headed for the barracks to catch up on all the sleep she’d missed when Emmett caught her sleeve.
“Rosalie,” he said, his voice oddly serious, “can we borrow your maneuver gear?”
“Why?” she asked, surprised. “We’re off duty.”
“That’s why we’re asking,” Willow said, wiping the last of the slimy potato starch off her hands. “Off duty is the only time we can practice, and we need it bad. If you hadn’t helped us, we’d both’ve fallen off the wall during cleaning yesterday.”
“It’s hard to isolate problems when you’re working with broken gear,” Emmett piped up. “Your suit is quality, though. If we use it, I’m hoping it’ll help us figure out why we’re so bad.”
“Emmett and me didn’t even want to be in the Garrison,” Willow continued, “but it was the only branch of the military we could get into with our low maneuver gear scores.”
“We did pretty well on everything else, though,” Emmett said hopefully. “If we can just improve our maneuver gear skills, I bet we can still transfer next year.”
“Transfer to where?” Rosalie asked. “The Military Police?”
That was where most recruits wanted to go, but Emmett and Willow were both shaking their heads.
“Who’d want to work there?” Willow said scornfully, wrapping her arm around Emmett’s shoulders. “We’re gunning for the Survey Corps.”
Rosalie couldn’t have heard that right. “You want to join the Survey Corps?”
Emmett nodded excitedly. “They’re why we signed up for the military in the first place. Unfortunately, Survey Corps has the highest requirements of any branch when it comes to maneuver gear. I thought we were done for when our scores came back, but then Willow had the idea to join the Garrison instead.”
