Chosen Soldiers

by R. H. Scott

  “Excuse me.” A junior student bumped into Sloan, knocking her hand into the faucet. Sloan hissed at the pain.

  She wanted to get out of here, to find Jared and talk this out. She needed answers, but if he demanded promises from her, could she make them?

  She turned the taps off and regarded her appearance. Her cheek was red and swelling; a small cut framed her lower lip. She shook her head . . . This night couldn’t get any worse.

  She made her way out of the bathroom, navigating the busy corridor until finally making her way into the hall that she usually trained in—­it had been transformed into a grand room. Soft white and golden lights glistened over the walls. Where there had been training equipment, there were now tables of food and drink, and in the corner, the student band had set up. The usual viewing stands were draped in white cloth and to the far left of the hall, a massive platform with two partitioned rooms flanking either side had been erected. Center back on the stage was the panel desk, where the Order would preside.

  The Order . . . They were the last ­people she wanted to see again tonight.

  Sloan walked closer to the platform. She knew the seniors would be called up first, reliving their own Calling, before commencing the Principle dance—­a formal performance that honored the Calling. Sloan remembered practicing with Jared, learning the dance for the first time. He had lifted her into a dramatic dip. “Don’t let me fall!” At her order, he had safely placed her on her feet.

  “Never.”

  Tandy had been watching their practice, commenting to Sloan afterwards, “He holds you like he’ll never let you go.” Sloan had shrugged to her best friend, eyes still on the boy she loved.

  “He won’t.”

  How had so much changed between then and now? How could Jared be keeping such secrets from her, planning such dark plans; how could the Order be treating them like this; how could Tandy be gone?

  Thinking of Tandy made her think of Kenny. He would have spent today preparing for the ceremony. Which poor girl would now be forced to live with him, to live with Tandy’s ghost?

  Sloan followed the stage, running her hand over the cloth edges, making her way behind the partitioned rooms. When had her life begun to fall to pieces?

  As though on cue, a hand fell on her lower back—­Elijah Daniels appeared at her side. She jerked away from him, letting his hand fall.

  “Don’t ever touch me,” she growled—­a flash of Mr. Degrassi’s smile crossing her mind.

  He smiled at her anger, leaning in, closing the gap between them but careful not to touch her. “I know you were invited to see the Order earlier. I don’t know why but I thought it worth telling you that Jared won’t back out of Fight Night, and neither will I, if that’s what you were talking to them about. Dawson and I—­it’s been a long time coming.”

  “I am not in the mood for this, Daniels.” She was already infuriated—­everyone baited her with their insistence that they wouldn’t back out of this fight, but no one would tell her why. She wasn’t an idiot—­she knew she was somehow involved. She knew Romani knew something, that Stone knew something, and yet, everyone sidestepped the truth.

  Jared had become murderous overnight and Romani had them acting like dancing puppets. Elijah taunting her was the last thing she needed.

  He rested an arm against the stage platform, encircling her with his broad body. Why does he have to look at me like that? She tore her gaze from his brilliant green eyes.

  “You need to stay away from me,” she ordered.

  “I’m not afraid of Jared,” he whispered.

  She looked at the small gap between their bodies—­how could so much complication fit into such a small space? How could she feel such anger towards him but want so badly to keep him alive?

  She glanced up to his face, his mouth so near her cheek.

  “You should be.”

  He brought his hand up to her face, gently moving a lock of her hair. He liked her . . . He liked this, being able to be near her. Was it a crush? Was that the stupid cause of Jared’s irrationality?

  She didn’t immediately pull away from him, hoping to use his interest to her advantage. “What did you do to upset Jared?”

  He leaned down, his breath running over her cheek, hot down her neck.

  “I’m doing it right now.”

  His words broke her from trying to play his game. She scowled, pushing him away.

  “I told you not to touch me. You get that I love him, right? That I will always love him. I am rightfully his.”

  Then why wouldn’t you agree to his promise in the pod tonight? Sloan pushed her conscience away, honing in on Elijah’s hurt face.

  “Are you sure that you’re rightfully his?” He stared at her, challenging, but she stepped further away.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  But it didn’t really matter right now. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to be with Elijah, she didn’t want to spend one more minute of this night parading around for the Order—­but she had no choice.

  “I don’t know why I care what he does to you, but if you have any sense, you will leave Jared alone.” Her words were filled with her natural fierceness, and no matter who he thought he was, he was smart enough to know that she was being serious. She turned from him, ready to leave.

  “But you do care?”

  The question stopped Sloan in her tracks. She turned back slowly. He stood there, shoulders curves awkwardly, green eyes hopeful.

  “You do care about what happens to me, don’t you?”

  She didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know why she felt the way she did—­she feared losing Jared, and that’s exactly what would happen if he killed Elijah.

  She settled on a partial truth.

  “I care that he doesn’t kill you, sure.” Then she walked away.

  Sloan found Jared near the entrance, watching the room around him. She leaned against the wall next to him and he fastened an arm around her small waist.

  Her world felt fragile—­everything about this night brought reminders of her life when it was seemingly perfect, and yet, it all felt so deeply wrong. What the Order had done to them; Tandy being gone; the fact that Kenny would be paired to a stranger; everything with Elijah . . .

  “I hate this,” she sighed, knowing he would know what she was referring to.

  “So do I . . . I promise, Sloan, if you can just see this through, it will all work out.”

  She looked up into his familiar blue eyes and while she wanted to say a thousand and one things, she remained silent, kissing him instead. Was he right? If she had blind faith in their love would things work out?

  With a loud step from the adjacent Academy sentries, the double doors to the hall flew open, and the Order, led by Romani, filed in. Sloan’s entire body tensed up, rage filling her. Jared held her closer, keeping a narrowed eye on their leaders as they shuffled past.

  “Let’s join the others,” he whispered, pushing away from the wall and leading her to where the other senior students had gathered near the platform. The Order had made their way up to the stage and had sat at their large table. Romani waited a moment—­as usual—­and finally saluted them.

  He leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of his white-­gloved hand. “I speak for the entire Order when I say we are most excited to greet the Academy’s newest unions.”

  Sloan glanced around, wondering where Mr. Degrassi and his associates were. Still at that sick party probably.

  Romani pressed on. “Junior students, I have invited you here tonight to witness that which you too will soon be endeavoring. The Betrothal Calling is a practice near as old as this very establishment. We pair up the finest unions and we create more than just marriages.

  “You are the chosen soldiers, those shaped by us to perform great duties in this world.
We provide you with your one ideal partner, the sole individual who knows your mind better than you do, who will help push you to achieve the greatest of feats, who will watch your back when you descend upon the enemy, who will help nurse your wounds and who will have blind faith in you, no matter what.”

  Jared tensed beside her, curling his arms across his chest. Sloan didn’t know if he was simply still mad about earlier tonight or if it was something Romani had said, but she knew that his words had struck a chord in her. “ . . . have blind faith in you, no matter what . . .”

  Was she failing to be what Nuptia had assured Jared she would be—­was she capable of offering him her blind faith? She felt an odd sensation of inadequacy and frustration. Maybe she wasn’t exhibiting blind faith in him, but he wasn’t putting any faith in her either—­he didn’t trust her enough to be honest with her, and she didn’t trust him enough to believe he had valid reasons to be acting the way he had been.

  Romani’s voice pulled her back. “My senior students, I ask that you make yourselves available to those newly paired, to lend them your experience during this transition.”

  Sloan bit her lip, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the hypocrisy of his request. How could he, just the other day, tell them to coldly disregard their Dismissed peers only to then ask them to care about their fellow students?

  “We shall commence the evening with the Principle dance.” Romani leaned back in his chair, speaking softly with the Order. They would each call out a name, ordered by the surname of the partner with the highest ranking. Sloan loosened Jared’s arms, pulling his hand into hers.

  She loved him—­she truly loved him. Why couldn’t they trust each other, though? She would do anything for this boy—­she would give up her own life for him—­but she couldn’t do it blindly; she couldn’t do it on pure faith alone. She needed to see that he trusted her too, that he trusted her before anything else.

  She closed her eyes; she didn’t want to think about this anymore. She wanted the clock to turn back on their lives; she wanted to be back at her own Calling. She leaned against Jared, letting those memories return to her.

  “Tell me you will be mine forever,” he whispered. Sloan had thought he had fallen asleep. She ran her fingers over his back as they lay on the mess of their bed in their new room. Their room. The thought was enough to make her smile. He turned on to his side to face her, watching her in the darkness.

  “I’m yours . . . forever.”

  In an instant he was on top of her, perched on his elbow, his face inches above her own.

  “Promise, Sloan.” His words were an order, a desperate request. Sloan freed an arm from underneath him and touched his perfect face. She ran her thumb over his lip.

  “I promise.”

  He hesitated before finally relaxing, resting next to her, kissing her bare shoulder.

  “Sloan, you know I would die for you.”

  She leaned over, kissing the top of his head. “I know.”

  They lay still, breathing rhythmically, and Sloan couldn’t help but think that her life was as close to perfect as she could ever hope for. He was hers, truly, only hers. The Calling was over and now no one could take him away.

  “Sloan?”

  His voice was a soft murmur in the dark.

  “Yeah?” She stroked his arm, opening her eyes slowly. His head rested on her chest, rising and falling with each breath she took.

  “I’m never going to let you go.”

  She smiled and affectionately squeezed his arm “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  He nodded.

  “You should get some sleep,” she added, gently readjusting him in her arms.

  “I will . . . I just like lying here with you. I love you so much. I always have.”

  Could her life get any better? She had the love of her best friend, of the Academy’s favored student, of Jared Dawson. “I love you too.”

  “Sloan?” he asked again, turning in her arms to once again face her. She laughed at his persistence to keep talking. It was late and they had to wake up early. She couldn’t blame him . . . they had just had the perfect night.

  “Yes, Jare?”

  He raised his hand and cupped her face.

  “I would kill for you.”

  “ . . . Captain Brett Crews-­Tyler and Lieutenant Lara Elizabeth Rhodes,” Amelia Brass called out. Brett clapped Jared on the shoulder as he and Lara made their way onto the stage. They saluted the Order, clasped hands and exited off the stage to take their position on the floor.

  “Captain Graham Anthony Danners and Second Lieutenant Jordan Chey,” Romani called out. Graham and Jordan made their way onto the stage, saluting the Order before boldly kissing. Sloan barely noticed, though. She couldn’t help but wonder where Elijah had gone. He didn’t have a betrothed, no one to perform the Principle dance with. Had she ever even seen him take part in a Betrothal Calling?

  Before these past few days, had she ever even noticed him at all?

  “Captain Jared Jacob Dawson and Lieutenant Sloan Radcliffe.” General Stone called their names.

  Jared led her forward and helped her up the steps and together they crossed the stage to the Order. Sloan kept her eyes on Stone, refusing to look at Romani as they saluted.

  She began to step away when Jared grabbed her arm. Romani abruptly stood.

  “Pardon the brief interruption,” the marshal spoke, pulling a small box from his pocket. Sloan could feel her jaw tensing—­what now?

  He made his way around the table, a tight smile on his face still. He was pleased with them, with their little performance earlier.

  “When Captain Dawson arrived at the Academy, he had a chain around his neck. Hanging from that chain was a token from his mother. After much deliberation we have agreed to let Captain Dawson present that very token to Lieutenant Radcliffe this evening.”

  Sloan stared up at Jared, shocked. What is going on? She could hear the sighs and murmurs of the Academy, just as she could feel a hundred sets of eyes on her. Jared had never told her about any token—­he had never even spoken about his mother. Yet, here they were. Was this the big favor Romani had done for him? Was giving her this gift so important that they had been forced into that disgusting presentation earlier?

  She watched as Romani handed Jared the box, and then Jared guided her out further onto the stage, in full view of their fellow students.

  He smiled broadly—­no longer seeming distracted by his anger or their recent fighting. “As an acknowledgment of my love and commitment to Sloan Radcliffe, I present her with this, my mother’s ring.” Jared shot his hand up in the air, revealing a small gold band. The students erupted in cheers and Sloan realized her mouth was open, her eyes widening—­she was shocked. Not only could she have never guessed this was his big surprise, but she knew students didn’t regain the possessions they arrived with until Departing Ceremonies.

  How had he managed to convince the Order to let him do this—­was it in exchange for showing up to perform for them tonight? Had he truly not known what he had agreed to when he planned this surprise for her?

  Jared leaned into her. “Tell me you’re mine.” His words were soft—­she was the only one who could hear him now.

  “I am yours.”

  It was the only response she knew.

  He slipped the ring onto her finger. The band was small, but Sloan was surprised at its astounding weight. He pulled her into a kiss, a tight embrace. She didn’t understand why he was doing this—­was the ring an apology, a promise, a tie to him? His mouth was soft against her neck as he held her.

  “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

  He phrased it like a question. She knew better than to believe it was.

  Sloan mirrored Jared, turning in circles as they danced. With an easy grace they spun counterclockwise, raising palms to meet one ano
ther again. “Do you like the ring?” She spun out, returning back to him.

  “Of course . . . I’m just surprised.”

  What did you have to do to give this to me?

  He leaned into her. “Good, I’m glad I can still surprise you after all this time.”

  She shot him a knowing look. “You certainly can.”

  She whirled under his arm, his hand landing lightly on her side. He spun her out and brought her back for their final dip. He held her thigh with one hand, his other firmly clutching her back, as he lowered her to the ground in one slow controlled motion. She couldn’t help but think of the promises he had demanded from her—­and the promises she had wanted from him.

  “Swear you’ll change your mind. Promise you won’t get another student sent for Review.” She forced the words out of her mouth as he held her precariously above the ground. He raised her slowly, taking a final pose. The Academy cheered, clapping for them. She barely heard him as he spoke.

  “Everything I am doing, I am doing for you,” he answered through his smile.

  But Sloan wasn’t smiling. She couldn’t help but notice that he asked every promise of her, but couldn’t make one himself.

  Sloan sat between Jared and the others of 27, crowded on the stands. The newest ­couple appeared on stage, saluting the Order, and took one another’s hands for the first time. “Captain Mary Jo Nielsen to be paired with Lieutenant Michael Grate.”

  The Order continued to call out names; unions continued to form. Sloan felt claustrophobic. The weight of the ring on her hand, Jared’s secrecy, Elijah’s taunting and that disgusting performance the Order had forced her to undergo earlier—­it was all too much to think about. She needed air—­she needed to think clearly. Could she just step away without drawing attention to herself?

  Before she could move, General Stone cleared his throat loudly, leaning forward to announce his next pairing.

  “Lieutenant Kenneth Merose to be paired with—­” Sloan sat up straighter, her heart racing.