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Revenge

That’s what she said, right? That’s all she was looking out for…herself. And she was sacrificing me to regain her power, regain her wealth, and ensure the survival ofherpeople. But if you really care about people, wouldn’t you care aboutallof them, regardless of who they followed or what they believed?

No. Sasha wanted what was best for one person and one person only. And she was playing with the lives of hundreds of people to achieve her own goals. I just happened to be the unlucky girl that had what she wanted—a title. Well, you know what…screw her. Screw this whole freaking place. Everyone else focused on their own wants under the guise of doing what was better for the masses. If everyone else could do that, then why couldn’t I?

Why couldn’t I just go along with Sasha’s little plan, get my brother back, and then jump ship before I had to say the wordsI do? If everyone else could use me as a little pawn in their freaking games, then so could I.

All was fair in love and war, right?

Well, this sure as hell wasn’t about love, but it was definitely a war between who was going to outsmart the other. I never wanted to play the stupid game, but if Sasha was going to drag me into it, then I might as well double down and start playing. I could follow their stupid little rules and play their little game. But for once, I was going to make sure that I wasn’t the one being used in the end. Not this time. I wasn’t going to end up crying and lost in the woods.

I was done with that.

This time, I was going to focus on one thing—saving my brother. If that meant everyone needed to think I was going to be the future Mrs. Calvernon, then so be it.Fine. I could play that role. But no one said I had to go through with it in the end, right? Brides run away all the time, don’t they?

A heavy sigh fell from my lips as a deep sense of foreboding filled me. Edith’s words rang through my mind all over again. There was one thing she got a hundred percent right—someone was going to get hurt.

The question now waswho?

15: FML

Sasha seemed pleased when I told her I was accepting Charles Calvernon’s offer of marrying his son in exchange for Jacob’s rescue and aid to the Dissenters. But some part of her acted as though she knew I was going to take the bait. And I kicked myself for it. I hated that she knew I would accept the deal.

That was a few days ago, and it had been silent ever since. I was still living in the barracks, but I had been pulled out of my squad for training. No explanation, no instructions, no information.

Nothing.

No one seemed to know anything either, because no one treated me differently or acted weird around me. I, literally, spent the last several days twiddling my thumbs, fretting about the decision I had made and how it was all going to play out.

I didn’t see Edith either. I tried texting her a few times, but she never responded to me. Clearly, she was still upset, and that kind of pissed me off. It was easy to judge someone else for theirchoices when you didn’t truly understand the weight of their decisions. Being put in this position made me think so much of my brother.

How many times had he been forced to choose between the people he loved? Between his parents and me? How many times did he have to decide between honoring his family and country, or acting against them to make sure I survived? How many times did he choose to protect me or save me, knowing that he would be hurt in the end? How many times?

Too many.

Because that’s where Sasha had it wrong. Not everyone was motivated by power, wealth, survival, and revenge. Some people are motivated by love. And Jacob was proof of that.

Jacob sacrificed himself over and over again to protect me, not because he stood to gain power, money, or because he sought revenge or to survive. He sacrificed himself because he truly loved me. And now look at the mess he was in: A prisoner of war in the worst detention facility Telvia had ever erected, scheduled to be burned alive in an arena for all to see.

How the hell could I not risk everything to save him? How the freaking hell could I not sacrifice myself to ensure his survival?

I couldn’t.

It was really that simple. And Edith could be pissed off at me all she wanted, but she didn’t understand the situation like I did. She wasn’t in my shoes, facing my choices. She could judge all she wanted. Hell, she could stop talking to me completely, cut me off, and never help me again if she wanted to, but none of it was going to change my mind.

I was going to save Jacob.

End of story.

But the loneliness and lack of information was getting really old. And, as much as I was annoyed with Edith for not supporting me, I missed her, too. I missed Matias and how muchsimpler things were between us back at the Dissenter base, where I wasn’t at war with hurt and anger, and all I had to focus on was anxious desire—that nervous angst you feel when a kiss lingers between you and the boy you’re desperate to taste.

I hadn’t heard from him. All I knew was that he was “coming back,” but I never had time to ask Edith what that even meant. So I sat, day in and day out, with my stomach in knots and my head swimming with heavy thoughts as I waited for the next damn shoe to drop. Because it was absolutely going to. I just wasn’t sure when.

***

Turns out, it was a Saturday. And when it dropped, the imaginary shoe didn’t so much as drop as it did kick me in the ass.

“Get up, soldier.” I shot up out of bed, startled by the firm, bitchy voice that cut through my dream like Edith’s katana.