by R. H. Scott
Elijah swerved right as if he would overtake Joss on that side, and the other driver took the bait, swerving to protect his side behind Sloan’s vehicle. But Elijah quickly braked—a double tap on the disc—and then rapidly revved, clearing Joss on the left hand side. Elijah pulled up behind Stone, with Joss coming up on the side. Suddenly, aware of the game being played, Stone swerved his vehicle, blocking Joss and allowing Elijah to take the lead. A surprised laugh escaped Sloan and it shocked her. Her life had changed so greatly since Elijah had come into it—she had lost everything she had ever clung to, had been uprooted and thrown down a treacherous path of loss and danger, but somehow, in the midst of such fear and misery, she found she still had the ability to laugh.
And she realized that in Elijah’s presence she could still find the good in the world. She eyed him up, his green eyes watching the road, a half smile painted across his handsome face, the wind flicking through his dark locks. She had missed him during his silence, as he retreated into himself to heal his own wounds, and she was amazed how much she had wanted him—the old him—back. She had become reliant on the knowledge that he loved her . . . and in turn, she was developing some kind of feelings for him. It wasn’t what she felt for Jared—not by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn’t an all-consuming love—but it was something. She didn’t want to overthink it, she didn’t know what it meant, but it was there and she finally felt like she could be letting him into her heart.
An obvious result, seeing as he had been there the entire time, trying to heal it.
Sloan idled on the steps of Stone’s cabin porch, running her hand down the wooden support beams. “You did it,” she said, glancing around at the students making camp.
“No, you did. You pulled Elijah and me back in; you got us going again,” he answered, circling a cigar against the flame of his match. He rocked in his seat and smiled at her approvingly. She noted the jammer, idling beside him.
“I just gave you an idea.” She shrugged, turning to leave.
“Sloan.” He was shaking his head, blowing out a plume of thick smoke.
“Sir?”
He stood, taking a step towards her. “I wanted to tell you, before everyone else,” he whispered, his grey eyes glancing down and then back up to her. “I wanted to tell you everything.”
Her hand flickered at her side. Sloan hadn’t realized how much it affected her, learning so late in the game. Hearing him say this now, even as a small gesture, meant a great deal to her. In a way, she was comforted by his words. So much had come to pass between her and the general, but ultimately, without him, she wouldn’t be here. Without him, she wouldn’t be regaining any sense of identity. He thanked her for pulling Elijah and him back into the fight . . . but long before that, he had pulled her back from the edge of her darkness.
“Thank you, sir.”
She idled on his porch a moment longer, contemplating the effect so much truth and honesty had had on her life. She looked up to him knowingly.
“I need to tell him.”
She couldn’t live with hypocrisy—she couldn’t acknowledge the power of honesty and then keep such secrets. He nodded at her slowly—he knew what she was referring to.
“Do you love him?”
She shrugged, looking upward and taking a deep breath. “He’s in my heart.”
She let her gaze fall back to him.
He stood, nearing her. “You should know this better than anyone by now—the truth is a dangerous thing. Think about that before you rush into anything.”
The others were swimming, camp had been made, and a fire was slowly burning in the ashen pit. Stone was in his cabin and Elijah had disappeared. Sloan walked apprehensively towards the burning wood of the fire, circled it slowly and took a few paces forward. She kneeled, letting her hand hover above the soft dirt and pine and ash. This was where he had fallen dead.
Slowly, she lowered her hand to the ground and traced an outline of where he had lain. She closed her eyes and could see him: his uniform and nametag, his still body.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, once again apologizing to Kevin Young. She could only hope that he could hear her . . . that he could forgive her.
She felt a presence behind her, a hand lowering over her shoulder. “You saved my life that day,” Elijah whispered, kneeling beside her.
She readjusted herself to look at him. “Two people died just so that I could find out the truth.” She thought of Donny—his muffled cries still so clear in her mind.
“Countless people have died upon learning the truth,” he answered and his sentiment resonated strongly with Stone’s former words. The truth was dangerous.
She stood and he mirrored her. “Elijah . . . there are things you don’t know, things I haven’t told you.”
“About you and Jared?” he asked, looking at her knowingly.
She nodded, feeling an awful anticipation.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to know, Sloan.”
“But—”
He cut her off too quickly, waving his hand around the campsite. “Are you with me—in all of this—are you with me?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
Easy to say when you don’t know. . .
She grabbed his hand. “Then you need to know this . . . I—wow, I don’t know how to say this—I may be starting to have feelings for you,” she whispered, locking in on his green eyes.
He stared at her, as though he hadn’t heard her admission. Then a small smile crept over his face. A happiness played in his eyes. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her forehead, spinning her round.
“I knew it. I knew you were meant to be mine.”
Sloan tensed under his words, knowing all too well who they reminded her of—who had first said such a thing to her. And in an instant, she couldn’t help but wonder if her admission had been a mistake.
Sloan glanced around the circle. She recognized Joss, Samuel Chase and Coop, whom she had just met. Kristin Burke, her betrothed Bill Anderson, she recognized from the Calling. Lily Tana was from Masse’s class, and Toni and Stephanie were twins from her math class. Aside from Elijah and Joss, the captains were Michael Lane, Jo Hart and Sava Strong. She had met the others too, but wasn’t great with all their names just yet.
Stone sat front and center, a stubbed cigar in hand, peering over the fire at them all. “Look around. Get to know one another right now. Trust the person sitting next to you to never give you up. Trust them to never break under the pressure of the Order.
“Do whatever you have to on this excursion to create the army we need you to be—the one Donny sacrificed himself for.”
Sloan was wedged between Elijah and a boy she had never met. She thought of Stone’s order . . . Trust wasn’t something that came easily to Sloan—nor was it something she seemed overly deserving of nowadays.
The general continued. “We do have a loose plan; some of you have heard the details before. Our number one priority is to evacuate the youngest children and return them to their families. This effort will require all of you. There are 204 children under the age of fourteen in the Academy. They will be the first ones to board any Skyshell out of here. As soon as we make a move, Romani will know and we will be facing the entire Academy guard as well as any students who won’t see the truth.” Stone leaned in, the fire flickering across his stern face.
“We’ll need a distraction then—something to buy us time while we move the kids,” Joss pointed out. Others nodded in agreement.
“I will take care of that,” Stone answered vaguely.
“How, sir?” Michael Lane pressed.
“Just trust that you’ll know when the opportunity to move arises.”
The captain nodded.
Sava chimed in next. “And
if we do escape—where are we going?”
“The Others on the warfront have a place they are prepared to collect us from once we reach the mainland, Strong.”
They all sat in silence for a long moment. It was all really happening—Donny’s death had sparked action. There was no time to idle, no time to second-guess.
Stone stood. “Right—get some sleep. Tomorrow you begin training together.”
Elijah leaped up and helped Sloan to her feet. She followed him into their cabin, offering a few quick goodnights to the others as they passed by.
Sloan took a deep breath, letting her gaze fall over the cabin. The space where Elijah had first tied her up, where they had physically wrestled over the truth, where they had first begun to bond. She crossed her arms and watched him turn away from his newly lit fire. He smiled as he walked over to her, stopping just inches away.
Slowly, he rested his hands on her shoulders, running his thumbs over her collarbones. She looked up, watching his green gaze flick over her body. She knew she had a place for him in her heart, she knew she cared about him—but to what degree? As if reading her mind, slowly, he inclined his head to her, bringing his nose to her own, his lips just above hers.
We have kissed before, she reasoned, and it wasn’t awful. But she could also remember their kiss after Young—the one that had told her how he saw her differently. What had changed since then? Nothing really.
Slowly, he brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her gently. His hands streaked up her neck, his fingers playing with her hair. This kiss wasn’t like the others—it wasn’t electric with novelty, it wasn’t sad with newfound realization . . . it was loving. She kissed him back, slowly loosening her crossed arms. She let her hands fall to his chest, and she tried to clear her mind—she tried to just be in this moment, to let the happiness she recognized when she was with him lead the way.
But as his hand moved for her shirt hem, she thought of Jared—she pulled away from him. “I’m sorry—I can’t.”
He looked at her with confusion. “But I thought . . . ?”
“I said I had feelings for you—I didn’t say I would sleep with you,” she answered curtly, embarrassed by her retreat from him, angered by his confusion—and her own.
“I know that . . . I just assumed. Never mind.” He sighed heavily, taking a step away from her.
She sat down heavily on the sofa. “I know it should be you, Elijah. I know I should want everything with you. You’re bright and kind, you make me happy and it’s not that I’m not attracted to you—because I am, you know I am—it’s just . . .” She let her voice trail off before finishing her sentiment.
But he finished it for her. “I’m not him.”
She could see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes.
She stood, taking a deep breath. “I just need more time.”
He shook his head, stepping towards his fire. “More time to figure out if you want to have sex with me? If you love me?” His voice was angry but quiet.
“More time to figure out how I feel about you,” she snapped back, tightening her fists. He wasn’t entitled to her—he had seemed to understand that recently, but now . . .
He spun around, squaring off with her. “You’re my betrothed—you’re supposed to want me, to love me.”
“I’m your betrothed because you took me, not because I chose you.” The words sounded much meaner aloud than she had intended. She could see the way they hurt him—that wasn’t what she had meant to do. But it was the truth—and the truth was indeed a dangerous thing.
“I’m sorry,” she added kindly, sitting back down. He nodded, slowly sitting down beside her.
“Was it this hard for you and him—to want each other this way?” He spoke the words with stammering apprehension.
Because he already knows the answer.
She wasn’t going to spell it out for him.
“Look, I just need you to be patient . . . I don’t know what I want and I didn’t mean to send mixed signals by telling you how I felt, but I can see how I did do just that. I just need more time to think.”
He nodded slowly, chewing on his lip as he thought over her words. “I know I said just having time with you was enough for me . . . but I was wrong. It’s not enough, Sloan. I want you. And I want you to want me too.”
She shrugged helplessly at his words. She didn’t know what else to say—she didn’t know she felt or what she wanted when it came to Elijah. She didn’t have the same certainty of love or lust with him that she had always had with Jared.
Isn’t that answer enough then?
She took a slow breath, regarding his handsome face, wishing she could just see him the way he saw her. “I still love him, Elijah.”
Elijah’s jaw tensed, a look of frustration crossing his face. “Well—I’m not giving up that easy, Sloan. He can’t just take you back.”
She stood up. She was sick of having to explain this to everyone. “I am not an object. He cannot take me and you cannot give me. When are you going to understand that?”
She turned away from him—leaving him to think about her words.
Sloan stretched her arms out and lay back in the cool grass. They had been sparring all morning. Despite feeling ill when she woke up that morning she had helped the others train, working on their leg locks, their takedowns, their precision and execution and knife throwing. She was officially exhausted. They were all good, some better than good, and a few she was even surprised had never come up against her in a Fight Night.
She sat back up, watching Elijah move through a complicated arm lock with another boy. They hadn’t spoken since last night’s difficult conversation and it frustrated her. In many ways, her relationship with Elijah was indescribably calmer than it had been with Jared. He was understanding and supportive—usually. And she had felt so certain of her developing feelings for him yesterday, but when push came to shove—it was still Jared. She knew it. Elijah knew it. Everyone knew it—but she wasn’t allowed to be with Jared, she wasn’t even supposed to speak to Jared, and even if she did, they hadn’t resolved half of their issues. Yes, in many ways, what she shared with Elijah was calmer, but her uncertainty and his perseverance made it more and more tumultuous each day.
“Joining in?” Jo called to her, flipping a knife in her hand easily.
Sloan shook her head—if sparring was tiring, training was grueling. She wanted to take five and think over her situation with Elijah. “I’m going to sit this one out.” She smiled.
“Come on, Sloan. Our group has two Fight Night champs and you’re really not going to get involved?” The words came from Chase.
“I’m not feeling it—I’m taking five,” she answered tightly. She had already said no.
“No, you have to help out,” he pressed, walking over to her. She got to her feet.
“Maybe later,” she answered firmly. At her sternness Elijah walked over, crossing his arms in front of her.
“Since when did you pass up on training?” He didn’t ask with any anger, but seemed genuinely concerned.
“I wasn’t feeling great this morning—I just need a break,” she explained.
She shrugged her shoulders, adding, “I’m just going to go for a swim.”
“Alright, feel better.” He nodded, offering her a small smile.
She nodded, walking past him and making her way to the lake. She didn’t understand their dynamic—their arguing and their making up, their feelings or lack thereof. No wonder she was feeling ill—it was all too stressful.
The lake was abandoned. Of course it is—they’re all training. She wanted to carry on sparring but she had woken up with knots in her stomach, on the verge of throwing up. It had taken a glass of water and sitting on the floor for ten minutes just to let the feeling pass. She needed a break.
&
nbsp; She pulled off her shirt, toes just touching the water, and closed her eyes as she slowly waded in.
“Are you alright?”
The voice startled her; she spun in the water to see a young man she didn’t recognize. He was striking and she was unsure how she hadn’t noticed him before—with his dark skin and blue eyes. He waded into the water, splashing past her, turning in the lake and watching her.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged, watching him.
“You sure?” he asked, leaning his shoulder back into the lake.
“I said so, didn’t I?”
He stood, the water coming up to his stomach. “Just checking.”
She waded in slowly. “What are you doing here?”
He looked around, a half smile on his face. “Swimming.” He laughed off his obvious answer and waved a hand at her. “I’m Edward Kane,” he smiled.
She nodded her head at him. “Sloan.”
“Yeah, Sloan Radcliffe. The girl who tore Maya Woods to shreds.” He smiled.
Is that what this is about? she wondered, leaning back. “She deserved it.”
“No doubt,” he agreed, sensing her tenseness. “I only brought it up because I liked what you had to say about the hypocrisy of it all.”
Sloan thought back to that night, when everything had changed. At the time, it had felt like the crescendo of the most complicated period of her life—and then things had actually become complicated. “I called Maya a hypocrite because it’s what she is.”
And now, so am I. She wanted to be honest with Elijah—but he’d told her plain and simple, he didn’t want to know. Did that mean she only wanted to tell him the truth to make herself feel better?
Edward’s face became serious. “It was a big deal to the rest of us—still is. Your Winnings secured a lot of necks. Not everyone can fight like you, or Elijah or Jared Dawson.” He waded out of the water, making his way to the bank. She watched him move. He was a big guy, with muscles on top of muscles, and yet a fluidness that belied a certain grace. There was no way he was incapable of fighting for his own life. She wondered what this was all about . . .
