“Xan! Why are you out in that rain?” The blonde asked, racing down the stairs to greet her shivering friend.
The normal brightness of Xan’s eyes was darkened with what Celine presumed to be sorrow. “It’s Myri.”
Before Celine had the chance to ask anything else, she heard a deeper voice from behind her speak up, reminding her that there were other people there as well.
“Myriad Amherst?” Celine looked back at Jax, tearing her gaze away from her friend. The young king looked like he came straight from his bed. His dark hair was still mussed up, covering some of his eyes; and he was only wearing sweatpants, not even having time to throw on a shirt. Surely that wasn’t kingly. “She didn’t come today.”
Xan was turned to the king now, her voice holding heavy weight. “She’s bed-ridden from Scorchen since morning. Although I am fully aware that your job offers are closed, I have come here to beg you; anything, for the money to buy her some medicine. I’m not even sure the most expensive remedies will help her, but I’m willing to try.”
Xanthene Holland was known for being brave and bold, but in the state that she was in, she looked quite vulnerable.
“You are aware of Myriad’s technical skills?” Jax asked, and Celine felt herself growing anxious. All this diplomatic behaviour was making her impatient. She knew just how important it was that Jax took this approach, and she knew that she should feel grateful. But something was tugging at her guts. She wanted Jax to just accept Xan, to help her friend out.
“We trained in everything together.,”
“You’ll take her place then. There will be a formal introduction tomorrow, and for now, Miss Carson will show you to your room.”
A characteristic smile blossomed on the wet girl’s face. “If that means dry clothes and a bed, lead the way, Carson.”
Areya looked ruffled at Xan’s informal way of addressing her, though she started to lead the 18 year old down the hall.
“And Hollingsworth?” Celine turned to see Xan, looking back at her a bit pitifully. “Your bags will be here tomorrow. Your father blew a gasket this morning. He had brought the Martins boy by in hopes of a proposal, only to find out where you were. He forbids you from coming back, but your mother is working on him.”
“Thank you, Xan. Goodnight now, you must be exhausted.” Xan gave her a little sad smile, before following Areya again.
Celine felt something in her cry out. She knew that doing this would invoke her father’s wrath; in fact, she should’ve been glad he didn’t find out any sooner. And she didn’t regret coming either. If staying meant that she would have to get married to a stranger and miss out on a chance to actually doing something, she was rather thankful she had left.
But something, against all of her logical reasoning she hoped that maybe her father would be proud of her for a change. Instead of rambling on about how well one of her elder brothers was doing, if he would just raise his head and see his baby girl doing something. It was a long shot anyway, she told herself.
Despite her best efforts however, some of her emotion must have shown through, because Jax gently suggested, “There is no problem if you stay here.”
“Thank you,” she numbly responded. She had given a curt curtsy and was about to walk away, when the rather silent Jan piped up.
“Sometimes it seems that Scorchen is a weak spot in your armour, Hollingsworth.”
She had turned, almost in surprise that he dared to say anything like that to her. Numbness transformed into anger. “There are lives at stake. You just can’t let people die like that!”
“Yet they do.” The steely calm of his voice only heightened her fury. The logical part of her informed her that a rise was what he wanted. Well, he’s going to get it.
She heard the faint scattered protests of the others in the room, but she shoved those aside. Her eyes were fixed on january’s cold ones, and her veins were filled with liquid aggression.
“Well, I’m going to do anything and everything in my power to save them. Do you know anyone who has died from Scorchen?”
He was silent.
“Of course, you don’t. I’m not surprised. But again, I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone you loved died of Scorchen and you didn’t care. Because you don’t love. If you did, you would realize why I had just tried to save a girl’s life.”
“Don’t say things that you don’t know, Hollingsworth.” His voice was low and threatening, almost making Celine stop. Almost.
“How do you sleep with blood on your hands?”
“You’d be surprised. Compassion can be your weakness. And I don’t want your besetting flaw to destroy the rest of this place.”
“January,” Jax warned, and Celine realized once again that she wasn’t alone. The others were watching, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
Determined to get the last word, she gave another shallow curtsy to Jax, and another glare to Jan. “Well, let compassion be my sin. There are much more that are worse,” she spat, eyes blazing at January. “Goodnight.”
She ran up the stairs, her bare feet sliding on the cold marble floor, still wet from standing next to the sopping Xan. Maybe a good night’s rest would cool her down.
But as she lay in the soft bed, it didn’t feel the same as before. She knew that the next day would be eventful, even more than the rather exciting day that just passed.
But she couldn’t get a wink of sleep.
Five
Z WAS about to make a joke on how bad drama at breakfast would be for digestion. Then Paris just had to drop the G-bomb.
Last night’s fighting match between Celine and January left tension that was still present the following morning. Z had privately agreed with both of them. Jan was being heartless, but Celine had picked two rather expressive arguments within the course of 24 hours due to her ‘compassion’. He could see why January would like to warn her, but his means of conveying the message wasn’t quite picked at the right time or by the right means.
Z found January’s personality to be the most cryptic. He just couldn’t read the dude’s intentions. Nox, though friendly, possessed an awkwardness and shyness that cast him away from the group; Celine was passionate about the matters that she had felt quite clearly, and was also quite friendly, though she had already firmly decided to not associate with Jan or Paris. Blare, Wes, and Xan were yet to be decided. Z had opinions, though he didn’t want them to be completely decided before he could actually know them. Finally, Z could tell that Jax felt with his heart more than he thought with his head, and Paris was just cruel.
As demonstrated by this morning’s activities.
Everyone was seated in the dining room, eating not-so-quietly; idle chatter that made Z doubt that they all had met only yesterday, filling the room.
Despite her somber reason to be part of the group, Xan was probably the entertainer of the group with an incredible energy drive.
Blare Defalco had that same energy around her, though her’s was more stagnant. Although she wasn’t creating a catapult out of her sugared berries like Xanthene, she had a certain glint in her eye that Z recognised, one that would make him immediately join up forces with her during a prank war.
Wesley, the unbelievably hot guard (Z liked to appreciate any form of beauty), was kind of a personality let-down. If Paris was a little more easy-going, Celine less sensible, Blare not almost imprisoned because of him, and Xan less zoned in on her strawberry fort, Z was pretty sure that they would all drool over Wes. But he apparently believed in ‘honour and sacrifice’ and more lies that he wanted them to swallow. He was like Jan, stiff and arrogant, but while Jan openly said what he felt, Wes dropped his feelings in annoying hints. And he didn`t quite own up to the fact that underneath all his desirable angles and shadows, he was cold and unforgiving.
Z hoped Jax would see that while Jan had hope, Wes did not, because if he had to hear one more `brave exploit from Wesley Hunter`s Majestic and Totally Fake Tales’, Z would get up and stuff the decorative flowers in
his mouth. No matter how gorgeous his eyes were.
Luckily, before the newest story could begin, Nox threw open the doors, out of breath. Everyone looked up at him, and his cheeks flushed, whether from embarrassment or from the exercise, Z didn`t know.
“Sorry, Your Majesty. January, Avelapoulos, Defalco, Hunter, Z, some girl I`ve never met, Hollingsworth.”
“Nox, this is Xanthene Holland,” Jax introduced, as Nox made his way to the open seat next to Celine. The boy gave Xan a nod, before taking his seat.
“Hey, are you the guy with the spitballing record?” Xan asked, a bit of admiration creeping into her voice.
Nox looked confused for a second, but then he remembered the competition of the night before, smiling at the memory. “Yep. What was it, Z; a good 3 meters past yours?”
Z scowled playfully, “You cheated. Took a running start without warning. I would’ve won.”
“Because you can take a running start in a spitballing contest,” Jan muttered, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear and laugh at. Even Paris raised an eyebrow, and Wesley let out a sound similar to a dying duck.
(Z was quick to decide that the world’s ugliest sound? It was this guy’s laugh.)
Z felt the corner of his mouth pull up, partially due to the fact that Jan was showcasing such a positive attitude, and partially because it was entertaining to be part of such a large audience. “Whatever, Jan.”
Cue more restrained laughter.
Z felt his gaze quickly move to Celine, and even with just a sight of her, he immediately felt bad, withdrawing his gaze back. She looked worried, tense, and tired, though some of the hard lines on her face were lessened by the recent laughing demeanour at the table. Xan’s news last night had not been the greatest. Why would any father kick his daughter out? —more so because she got such a high position so close to His Royal Highness, himself. But again, Z figured not all parents were like his uncle.
Well, that’s what Z called him, though they both didn’t share any relation. They didn’t share any of the same features, and most certainly not the same blood. Technically, however, they did. Since the operation, around 47.026% of the blood flowing through his body was his uncle’s and it was because of that gracious donation, that Z had lived.
“Do you mind if I cut into your conversation with a sort of, what’s the word, enlightenment?” No one dared minding in front of the king. “Well, you have gotten to know each other and formed opinions of each other. I want to hear them. One opinion, on anyone in this room, excluding yourself. And after that, I have another proposition, one that might make, some of you at least, even more uncomfortable.”
There was uneasiness, and slight disagreeance was uttered, though none of it loud enough for Jax to pay any heed. “We’ll start with whoever might be willing to start things off, and then whoever will blurt out their opinion next,” Jax sheepishly ran a hand through his head, adding, “I don’t exactly have a formal plan.”
It all felt so awkward for Z, in fact, he had believed the entire team felt it. The king of NNR was right in front of them, and they were on friendly terms. Jax was calling them by their first names, and they were to call him Jax as well. It struck Z with surprise upon meeting Jax. He was humble and sheepish about many things; he was so easy-going and open to making acquaintanceship with them. But again, Jax was their age, Z actually older than the king. And growing up so alone in the palace, learning how to rule as his only companion, Z really shouldn’t have expected much difference in his want for friends, if he would venture to call himself a friend of the king.
Celine’s somewhat shaky, yet clear voice pierced his thoughts. “I have a feeling I’ll hate this future ‘preposition’. Well, I believe that January will base a horrible observation on me, which—do not fear, Jan—I most certainly return,” Jan sent a somewhat respectful yet angry glance at Celine. “And Z might just burn down the palace down any minute now,” she jokingly added, as if to relieve the tension she just laid down. Her words did justice to their intentions, and Z stuck his tongue out at her in response to her comment.
“Not fair Hollingsworth. I’ll have you know I’ve restrained burning this place for 36 minutes and 57 seconds.” While Celine had received many scattered chuckles, no one held back their laughter at his retort, though Z could swear they all, ever-so-slightly, scooted away from him.
Nox spoke up, “I believe that Xan, though her energetic appearance, is actually quite loyal and serious when it comes to those she trusts.”
Xan only smirked at him, and spoke up when it was clear that no one else was going to. “I believe that everyone here has a past they would like to forget. Which, in some way, has led us all to be here.”
January piped up almost immediately, who started a rant on Celine and her flaws on compassion, and more boring points to which she showed little response, unlike last night. Soon, after passing a confused Wes and cryptic Blare, it was Z’s turn.
“Well, I think that despite our many differences, Jax chose us because we can fight. We all have a passion for something, whatever that thing might be,” Everyone stared at him in shock, and he almost felt offended. “What? I can be smart sometimes.”
Paris was smiling, though Z doubted it was due to his joke. No, there was too much malice in that expression for any good intentions. “Well, Nox. She—sorry—he’s a dear. But I fear a great, grave secret has been kept from us.”
Z realized with a start, that she had already stood up, and was walking towards the boy, who looked terrified. “Paris, no.” Nox’s voice was a hoarse whisper, pleading. Z’s mouth opened to warn Paris, but the king beat him to it, standing at an alarming rate, his chair scraping against the cool marble floor.
“Avelapoulos,” Paris practically ignored the king’s warning tone of voice.
“Your Majesty. Some secrets carry a weight that one should not conceal from their king, and most certainly not in the situation that we are in. I wish to show you a betrayal that you wouldn’t have expected.” Everyone’s eyes were staring at Paris with a mixture of curiosity and horror.
And with one single fluid movement, Paris grabbed a fistful or Nox’s hair and gave it a vicious tug. Z half expected a strangled cry of pain, but another part of him knew what weighty secret Paris spoke of.
Loose clothing, not staying over for the night, the unusual quietness, Paris’ ‘slip’ of the tongue.
And down tumbled Nox’s dark tresses. “You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone Paris.” Her voice caught Z off guard, as he had only associated Equinox Carter’s voice with a low, masculine one. Hearing her actual voice was quite unsettling.
The malicious grin on Paris’ face only seemed to grow, but she managed an oh-so-sweet-and-innocent front to cover any of her see-through intentions. She had done something worth getting kicked out for, though there was no way Jax could. Not with her speech on how ‘this was for the better’ beforehand. “Don’t take it personally. But if you keep such big secrets from your king, I’m afraid I will have to inform him. It could be the matter of his safety, you know?”
Shameful tears trailing down her flaming cheeks, Nox shook her head. “You don’t only deceive others by lying, but you lose their trust as well. Because you dig into everyone else’s business to see if you can find any blackmail-worthy material.”
The table, busy with laughter only a few moments ago, was quiet in utter shock. Regardless of everyone’s opinions on each other—regardless of Z’s opinion on everyone—every single breathing soul in the room was surprised at Paris’ cruel nature. And if they had been previously acquainted with her wickedness, they most certainly never expected it to go this far.
Nox’s chest was heaving in and out, and Z wasn’t sure if it was due to her tears, rage, shame, or a terrifying mixture of all 3. “Nox,” Jax’s voice was quiet and gentle, a tone used to coax a frightened animal down from a tree. “You don’t have to leave.”
“No. Thank you, for the gracious offer, my king. When the rules have been lai
d down as firmly as they have, it cannot be easy to break them like this, so I am honoured. But I have to leave. I cannot stay in front of my victor,” Nox turned to Paris as she spat the word, “so humiliated. I think your team will be just fine without me and my skills.”
Z wanted to shout out, to tell Nox that they wouldn’t be fine without her. He looked at the king, whose fine features seemed to be crafted from stone. He was expecting a similar response from Jax, who had so far proved to be quick-tempered and impulsive. But something was holding him back. There was a grim look that spread across his face, and an understanding, yet reluctant, nod. Nox looked relieved and practically ran out, following a shallow curtsy. She was hesitant at the door, as if reconsidering.
“I have another observation. Everyone here is a survivor. Shrewd, and knowing what they want and at what price. You can use that well, or for some horrible reasons; some of you have already decided,’ she added, looking at Paris. She once again moved to the door, only to once again stop. “One more thing. Trust is something you should hand out sparingly. Because it could mean life or death. Some people are willing to take a running start in this game, but some will dig you a grave, and promptly shove you in it.”
Hearing the ‘running start’ comment reminded him of only a few minutes ago when the mood was decidedly much better, Z almost smiled. Almost.
But he was determined on getting one more smile out of Nox, so he said: “Beware the grave-digger.” Nox managed a small smile at Z’s playful mockery, though her eyes were serious.
“That’s right, Z. Beware the grave-digger.”
And finally, pleased to have edged in the last word, Nox’s dark hair flew out the door behind her figure, probably never to be seen by Z’s eyes again.
Something about her warning sent chills down his spine. The depressing silence wasn’t helping either, but he didn’t care enough to make another joke.
Sitting in sullen silence, brooding in tension and pure shock, was suddenly displeasing to Z. Whatever normality they had begun to form as a team, was now shattered.
The Reformation Page 3
