by T. C. Edge
I love her too much for that.
Instead, a short silence that seems like it last an hour descends. So much feeling passes back and forward between our eyes. Sadness, anger, disappointment, longing. And when I finally speak, it’s empty words that fall from my lips.
“Sorry, I thought the room was empty,” is all I say.
I begin sliding back to leave the room. Every single exchange I have with her now is similarly terse, similarly tense. It’s the same with just about everyone in my life.
Whether it’s Mrs Carmichael or Zander or Adryan, or anyone else for that matter, there’s always this current of fate to everything we say, everything we do. A burden sitting upon every word, weighing down every conversation.
Nothing is light or unimportant now. There’s no time for laughter or gossip. My world has changed too much for that. I have changed too much for that.
I wonder, right now, standing here in front of my oldest and best friend, if I’ll ever be able to properly laugh again, even when all this is over. Maybe I’ve been changed, just like Adryan has. Irreparably so.
I’m almost out of the room when I hear Tess’s soft voice.
“Brie…”
I stop, turning my eyes back to her. They look so sad and weary. The hostility and bitterness they usually carry these days when they look at me is absent. I find myself drawn into the quiet room a little further.
I move to the sofa and her eyes follow me. I sit beside her, my heart pounding inside my chest, and wait for her to speak again.
“How…how are you?” she asks delicately. “I’ve barely seen you since…since I found you, on the floor in our room. You were sick. And your hands.”
Her eyes fall to them. They’re fully healed now.
“I’m OK,” I say. “It was…nothing.”
I fight the urge to explain, to tell her what’s going on. Something so powerful, so primal in me wants to share it with her. It feels unnatural to keep things hidden, to lie with such abandon.
She doesn’t appear surprised by my silence. Her eyes now drift to my clothes, to the light blue colours of the Unenhanced in Inner Haven.
“How was the date?” she asks.
I have to give her something. She’s trying, and she’s trying hard. My standoffishness isn’t putting her off. She’s making a proper effort, and so should I.
“It was good,” I say. “He cooked me dinner. And we had some wine. He’s not like I expected.”
“A Savant? He’s a Savant, isn’t he?”
I nod, a smile forming and then fading.
“He’s more like a normal person, though. He’s got emotions. He’s…he’s a good man, Tess.”
Now a smile, perhaps a little forced, ripples across her face.
Another silence falls, and I look into her bright blue eyes. In a flash I want to speed inside her, to find out what she really thinks of me. To find out about her life without having to ask.
I creep forward instinctively, still unable to fully control myself, to control my powers at times of high emotion. I dip into her thoughts and find a great sadness in her, her animosity towards me dwarfed by it, drowned by her own desire to see our friendship renewed.
I snap myself out of it, and blink hard. When I look at her eyes again, a hood has fallen, and her own eyes stare for a moment before turning away.
The tension seems to rise. I break the new quiet.
“I’m getting married,” I say.
The words flow out without approval, without any thought at all. Tess turns back to me, and I sense a battle inside her. The sadness seems to flare, but not because of me, because I appear to be happy. It’s a selfish sadness, but one I understand. A sadness that emanates from our diverging lives, our paths that are splitting us up, seemingly for good.
“I’m so happy for you,” she says.
The words are compulsory. Her pulse starts to rise, and her lungs appear to drain. And her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, begin fading out.
“We’ll still be able to see each other,” I say.
I can feel it’s what she wants to hear. Despite the current state of our relationship, the main concern in her is seeing her best friend’s life move on, while hers remains stagnant.
“How do you know?” she asks, dipping her eyes briefly.
“I’ll make sure of it, Tess. Maybe…maybe I could even help you get into a bachelor ball? You could join me in Inner Haven?”
I immediately realise the words are inadvisable. It’s a promise I can’t keep, and wouldn’t want to anyway. I’m not going to be in Inner Haven for long.
She shakes her head, to my surprise.
“You don’t have to do that, Brie. I don’t want any help. I don’t…need any help.”
The shadows seem to creep back up on her. The last thing I want is to sound patronising, not when we appear to be making the slightest bit of progress.
“I know you don’t,” I concede. “Either way, I’ll be coming back here, I promise.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It won’t be on my account. We haven’t exactly been that close recently…”
“Tess.”
The firm use of her name compels eye contact. She obliges, and I continue.
“Whatever’s happened between us recently, you’ll always be my best friend. You’ll always be my sister.”
The smallest of smiles threatens to climb. This one isn’t forced. Inside her, I feel a fire lighting at my words.
“You are too,” she says quietly. “My sister…”
Her smile hovers. Mine now builds, growing tall. I reach across and pull her into a hug, and suddenly we both start breathing loudly, letting our lungs work properly for the first time since I entered the room.
“I’m so sorry I’ve been short with you recently,” I say. “I’ve just been going through some stuff. I…I just can’t talk about it…”
She pulls away, shaking her head.
“You don’t need to explain. I should be the one apologising, Brie. I’ve been a child. Immature. You’re the best person I know. I should trust you more. If there are things you don’t want to tell me, that’s OK. I…I understand.”
I drag her into another hug. It feels so good to have her say that, some of the weight I’m carrying around lifting. A fresh weariness grips at me, and I feel my room calling, my bed calling. A place that, for a while now, has felt uninviting and frosty, my own home no longer a place of refuge.
But now, maybe, that will change. Just at the time when I’m about to leave.
Standing, I nod to the door.
“It’s late,” I say. “We should sleep.”
Her own tired eyes suggest agreement. I get the impression that the room has also become a place of discomfort for her too. That she’s been spending plenty of time down here in the common room, alone, away from her troubles.
No longer.
She stands too, and together we go upstairs, and climb into our own beds, and say goodnight to each other as we always used to.
And with that burden slipping from my shoulders, I fall into a rare, untroubled, sleep.
25
Adryan is true to his word. The following morning brings with it a letter from the Council of Matrimony, confirming the date of my approval examination.
It’s brought to my room by Mrs Carmichael, waking me with some brisk knocking. I croak for her to come in and check my watch to see that it’s nearing midday already.
Tess’s bed is empty, as it always appears to be. Yet this morning, the sight doesn’t bring a sense of deflation to my insides. Instead, the memory of our reconciliation the previous night brings a smile.
It only grows when Mrs Carmichael sits on my bed and hands me the letter. I hastily break the seal and let the words glow, rushing my eyes over them eagerly.
Dear Miss Melrose,
At the request of Mr Shaw, your marriage approval test has
been set for tomorrow afternoon at 2PM.
Should you pass, you will be permitted to i
mmediately
marry Mr Shaw, and will be taken to the Office of Nuptials
to sign your wedding contract with him.
Your liaison has been instructed to escort you to your
examination. Please make sure you dress
appropriately.
All the best of luck to you.
Katherine Kirkland,
The Council of Matrimony.
“Well, that was quick,” remarks Mrs Carmichael. “So, it’s really happening then?”
I nod, rereading the letter to make sure I take it all in.
“So how did it go with Agent Woolf yesterday? I assume everything was alright, since you’re here, safe and sound?”
I put the letter down and briefly consider my response.
“It went fine,” I lie, deciding to keep her in the dark.
Now that the agent has me in her sights, it’s best if I keep all information about my current dealings from anyone who could be under threat. I have some defence against the woman. Mrs Carmichael doesn’t.
Should she learn of the latest things I’ve been up to, they’ll be right there for Agent Woolf to find if she decided to come knocking. Right now, I don’t trust my ability to conceal the information inside my guardian’s head. Only Zander could manage that.
Of course, she probes a little more, and I end up shutting down entirely. Tess appears to be coming back onside. Now, perhaps, Mrs Carmichael will take her place.
That’s the suspicion that runs through my head as I deny her any juicy details of my latest adventures. I probably don’t give her enough credit, though. She quickly quits her attempts to extract the info.
“Fine, keep your cards close to your chest, Brie,” she says. “So this marriage of yours…how does it work? Do you need any witnesses?”
“Are you offering your services, Brenda,” I grin.
“No, just interested. Although, if you need me I suppose I could help.”
“That’s sweet, but I don’t think they require any such thing. Marriage there is just a formality, a legal contract. As far as I know, I just have to sign something that binds me to Adryan.”
“How romantic,” she huffs.
“I don’t think romance was ever part of the equation,” I say.
She peers into my eyes, as if reading my mind as I can do.
“I’d be careful to make sure you live up to that,” she suggests. “You don’t have feelings for him, do you?”
I scrunch up my eyes a little too heavily, and lean away from her.
“Of course not,” I say with a puff of air. “He’s basically a working colleague.”
“Hmmmm. Well, just remember who he is. I’d keep him at a distance as much as you can.”
I yawn, but not through tiredness, and roll my eyes.
“Are you still doubtful? About all of this? Haven’t you seen enough to convince you this is all for the best?”
She doesn’t answer my question.
“I’m just disappointed. I wanted you to marry a normal man here in Outer Haven. I wanted you to be happy.”
“We’ve been through this before. Happiness isn’t relevant to me right now. There’s only the mission.”
“And when it’s over?”
“Then…maybe. But I can’t afford to look that far ahead.”
She smiles and leans in, leaving me with a kiss to the forehead and no further words. I’m grateful for that. Right now, I’m in no mood for a debate or any sort of interrogation. God knows I’ve had about enough of that recently.
There’s not a great deal for me to get up to, however, after she leaves me alone. Again, I’m back to playing the waiting game, confined to this place. I consider heading north and making my way back down to the underlands, seeing Drum and Zander again, maybe doing some more training.
But then I realise that such a thing would be folly right now. Nothing but a chance for things to go wrong. Instead, I satisfy myself with a telepathic conversation with my brother that’s far more effortless than ever before, owing to my flowering mental gifts.
Right now, he’s about the only person, besides perhaps Adryan, who I can be completely honest with. So I quickly explain as concisely as I can – my ability to communicate psychically, while improving dramatically, still takes a little out of me - what’s been happening with me, and where things are going next.
Good, comes his voice, echoing through my mind. Things are moving fast. You’re ready for this, Brie. Have faith.
But what about Agent Woolf? I ask. She’s hunting me down, Zander. She could come and find me at any moment. I don’t know if I can stop her again.
Leave the academy, he tells me. Go somewhere where no one will find you. Return only to sleep. Stay out of sight until tomorrow afternoon, and you’ll be fine.
I take his advice and make for the eastern quarter. For what might be the final time, I climb to the roof of the warehouse and stare out at the mountains beyond. I cast my Hawk-gaze upon the natural formations that have so long enticed me, teasing me from afar.
I always longed to see them closer, to walk among the high passes, but never truly considered such a thing to be possible. Now, the future holds all sorts of possibilities. There’s a whole world out there that I’m longing to explore, adventures beyond the boundaries of this city just waiting to had.
And for that afternoon, I fall into daydreams again, enjoying my final hours alone before my world changes for good tomorrow. I sit and think and just stare out, the sun gliding across the sky and fading away against the horizon, bringing the warming hues of a red sunset with it as it dips.
The beautiful colours change and flow, and soon the darkness begins to descend, and the faint moon appears against the blackening veil above. I stay there for as long as I can allow, getting dangerously close to curfew before working my way back home.
And when I do, I enter the main hall to find an unusual sight ahead of me.
It’s full, all of the academy gathered together. Immediately, a strike of lightning cuts through my chest and I search in panic for Agent Woolf.
Has she come again to speak to me? To speak to everyone? Have I just doomed us all?
I don’t see her, though. Nor do I see fear or dread among the soft, youthful faces before me. Instead, I see rising smiles all round, the girls in particular beaming as I enter.
At the front, I see the cute face of Abby grinning so brightly it looks as through her cheeks might burst. Her little cohort of friends look similarly pleased to see me. The boys appear less interested, the likes of Brandon the bully and his posse looking like they’d rather not be there.
Then, from the side, my eyes turn to find Mrs Carmichael coming towards me with Tess. It’s my friend who steps forward first.
“What’s going on, Tess?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise,” she says. “We know that weddings in Inner Haven aren’t celebrated. So…we thought we’d do something for you tonight instead.”
“This is for me? I…I don’t know what to say.”
I really don’t. I’m rarely speechless but this is one of those occasions.
“Whose idea was it?”
“Well…mine,” says Tess. “It’s my way of saying sorry.”
“Tess…you don’t need to…”
“I do,” she says, cutting me off. “And I want to. It’s nothing anyway. We’re just here to send you off tonight in relative style, for this place at least! Some of the kids have prepared a nice meal, that’s all.”
I spread my gaze to the gathering and feel my cheeks burning. It’s a strange mixture, really, of appreciation and joy at the gesture, with a topping of guilt that all of this is being done for a fake marriage.
“Thank you all so much,” I say, trying to stop any embarrassing tears from assembling. “This really means…the world to me.”
My voice cracks and ends. Mrs Carmichael calls out for the throng to head for the canteen.
“OK, show’s over. All of you, go ahead and get started.”
They don’t have to be told twice. With the typical rush that accompanies dinnertime, the kids begin scrambling down to the corridor at the back. Special meals like this are so rare, and usually only accompany major birthdays or graduations of long-term residents from this place when they move out and get a housing silence. Or, like me, marry.
Now alone, Tess pulls me into a hug.
“I’m going to miss you,” she mumbles. “So much.”
“I’ll be just across the wall. I’ll come back…often. I promise.”
Over her shoulder, I see the look in Mrs Carmichael’s eyes. She knows that’s not true. Only she knows how fake all of this really is.
I have to contend with that growing feeling of fraudulence as the evening goes on. In the canteen, a few sparse decorations have been put up and a two course meal has been prepared.
Even a seating plan of sorts has been arranged, with my spot at the middle table along with Tess, Mrs Carmichael, and a few of the other residents of my age group. Around us, the tables are set by age too, the dinner far more ordered than normal.
The food is nice for this place. I feel a further stab of shame at the thought that goes through my head as I munch on the chicken and potatoes: that as nice as this is, it’s nothing compared to what Adryan has cooked up.
When desert comes, however, I’m greeted with a large chocolate cake that, purely on appearance, looks incredibly appealing. It’s not particularly neat, but what does that matter when it’s so loaded with sugar and tasty butter icing?
I’m forced to blow out a single candle on the top, a little tradition here during any such occasion, before making a speech. I bumble through it, trying not to cry. I feel fine until I see Abby across the room in floods, which only serves to set me off.
I feel completely ridiculous, but the applause at the end of my speech suggests I did a decent job. Then, as we all tuck into the lovely cake, Mrs Carmichael brings out a bottle of her finest whiskey and pours glasses for all of the top table.
Tess digs straight in with a great amount of vigour, while the others are more tentative, a couple coughing and spluttering as I did the first time I tasted the acrid brown liquid. They raise their glasses to me to send me on my way, and my feeling of deception increases further.
