Page 56

Reina

A lot of times, when Moe talked, it scared people. Maia was never included in that. But ever since that night Moe never came back to the tent, and I’d spotted her leaving Amaia’s in the early morning, things around here had been weird.

Amaia had changed our plans. Not by much, and I supposed, that’s where all the debate that followed had come from. I knew better than to ask Moe what she’d seen, same way she knew dang well it was bad luck to tell someone about their death. It was the only assumption I could come to after their weird behavior. Still, I didn’t question. What did I know? War wasn’t exactly new to me but this position was. I was here to follow orders and shut the heck up. Set a good example for the others.

All of which would have been ten times an easier task if I couldn’t feel the anxiety seeping off her, Alexiares, Tomoe, and pretty much every leader that cared about what happened to her outside of the war.

I leaned over the cold ground, wringing my hair out and tossing it in a towel. This bathing tent was absolutely disgusting. The less time I spent here, the better. Luckily, I could use my own water and avoid the harsh tap they pulled from the ground for the showers in order to limit exertion.

“Release your inhibitions. Feel the rain on your skin, no one else?—”

“Boo.”

The voice caught me off guard. It was still an ungodly hour and I’d thought myself to be alone. There were barriers at least, but when I entered, no one had been here. Of course, over my singing, it was hard to hear anything else. Couldn’t say I didn’t feel safe here, I supposed.

“Oh. Hi, Finley,” I said, taking a step back at the small but mighty blonde who’d managed to sneak up on me.

“ Hi, Reina , pretty voice,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. A smirk tugged at her small, round lips, and she tilted her head, sizing me up. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. You know what they say; early bird gets the worm and whatnot.” I chuckled, reaching for my toiletry bag.

Finley took a feline step forward, “That is what they say. How’s the water this morning? Fresh.”

I’ll be the first to admit, I was not a fan of how she said that last word. Made me think she wanted to drown me in it for fun and I was the one who had the power to wield it. Not once had I felt anything other than general contempt come from her. No real emotion. Not love. Not hate. No fear. No sorrow.

Finley replicated those things, but I never felt the true emotion come from her myself.

She was either really dang good at keeping her emotions in check in front of others, or she was a sociopath. Both were pretty terrifying if you asked me.

“I wouldn’t know,” I answered, adjusting the towel sliding off my short hair. “I use my own. Hard water is bad for your skin and hair.”

“Right. I bet you purify yours first and everything.” She took another step. I flinched as she bent down, reaching past my body. Finley froze. A cruel smile slipped into place and she rose back to stand directly in front of me. “You dropped something.”

Her eyes lowered from mine and down to my throat. They flickered back up again and narrowed. “You’re not actually scared of me. Are you?”

She laughed, as though it was an insane thought, though she had tortured my entire family only months ago. I didn’t respond. Instead, I grabbed my brush from her strong grip and turned toward the flap of the tent.

“It must be nice. To live life so … free.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Not because they held malice, but because her guard had finally slipped. When I turned to face her, her crystal eyes held nothing but pain. “It became very clear in the early days of all this that showing any ounce of empathy would end up with me and my father dead.”

“No one forced you to torture people and be cruel, Finley,” I responded with a scoff. I refused to feel bad for her. There were better people in the world to pity.

“No,” she agreed. “No one forced me. But I had to make a choice, and I chose to survive. Same as you, same as your precious general, same as every person in this camp. I won’t apologize for the fact that survival looks different on everyone.”

“No one asked you to.”

“When we first arrived in St. Cloud, it was a mess. They were doing … unspeakable things to … vulnerable people.”

How bad could it have been if it had been deemed unspeakable by a woman who not only knew where the line was, but crossed it by choice countless times?

“Then why stay?” I couldn’t help myself. I was curious. Everyone had a story. Though hers would make no difference in my opinion of her, I was a Nosey Nancy.

“There are worse places to be. I heard you crossed Yellowstone with only your brother at your side. You’re aware of what’s out there.”

“Yeah and look.” I gestured to myself. “I didn’t come out the other side a villain. And before you start telling me that our circumstances were different, save it. I don’t care, Finley. Keep your sob story. What? I bet you’re telling me because you think I’m the weak one, the one you can manipulate the easiest? You made your choices and some of them hurt the people I love.”

Finley laughed softly, the sound bitter as she turned the shower on. I turned away, giving her a shred of privacy, and then it slapped me across the face. That sadness. It rolled off her like a wave.

“Not at all, actually,” she said, her words muffled against the plopping of water puddled at her feet. “I read people. It’s what I do. How I managed to stay alive all this time. I don’t think you’re weak at all, Reina Moore. I think you’re pretty fucking badass. But, little Reina, you also possess the amount of empathy that made me consider, for a fool’s moment, that you were the one person in this camp I would be able to talk to, and not be bit back.”

Dang my stupid heart . Her words softened me against my will. I glanced over my shoulder, sending her a sliver of peace, as much as I could muster with the amount that I cared. Her eyes revealed everything. Thank you .

“I tried things her way—Amaia’s. My father and I both did.”

“So what the heck happened?”

“Didn’t work, obviously. I was shown how sick humans can get. You think I’m cruel? I am nothing but a product of terrible surroundings, and the result of what kindness looks like in that town. I could have left. My father wanted to. They had the equipment, the tools—I thought I could help. So, I became what St. Cloud demanded. I chose to be the evil in order for the greater evil to stand down. And turns out, I liked it. Love it. The power. The way grown men cower when I walk into a room. But everything has its price.”

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a sharp, humorless chuckle.

“I doubt I’ll survive this. If Covert doesn’t kill me, one of the many enemies I’ve made throughout the years will. And honestly? I don’t blame them. In retrospect, the person I am, the person I’ve become, is someone that needs to be put down. There’s been things that I’ve done in the name of science and innovation … and then there’s what I’ve done out of pure curiosity. I don’t take any of them back, but I wish other decisions I’ve made had better outcomes. Results that excused what it took to get there. It’s harder up north. Every day is a fight. Against the weather, the dead, or each other. Every damn day.”

“Everyone has to make hard choices,” I said. “If you want to be a better person, then start today. It’s not hard to not act like a … you know.”

She smirked faintly, though her eyes told a different story. Detached. I was pretty sure I was listening to the mumblings of a guilty dead soul.

“You’re adorably optimistically na?ve.” She shut off the water and grabbed my brush, pulling it through her wet choppy hair. “I killed my father. There’s no coming back from that. Not in this life or with the Lord. That’s what you believe, right?”

“I guess,” I said carefully, staring at my now contaminated brush—the last one I had thanks to Tomoe losing the rest. “I think there’s a God, and that God loves all Earth’s creations because, at their core, there’s good in everyone.”

“You think your daddy is good? Think he’s seeing pearly gates?” A shadow of amusement flickered across her face, and I froze. “Exactly. I spent years working on a cure for my dad. He went into remission right before the bombs dropped. It came back at the same time his magic arrived. All the Seers and magic in the world, and still, nothing worked. So I killed him, but only because he asked me to.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“I had to tell someone. A girl like me? I’ve got no one. Before I die, I need to confess. Don’t you think?”

I stayed silent.

“His condition turned dire and one night, we were going to give it one last shot before giving up.” She laughed, dry and hollow—again her pain inched toward me, barely perceptible. “Cael Thomas was a lot of things; a quitter, he was not. Not until the end. He said his body couldn’t take anymore. He asked me to do the deed—said he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.”

And suddenly, I understood. Her confession hit a nerve I hadn’t expected. Because I’d been there, too. I’d tried to do the same. In the end, I couldn’t—and she had.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that night.” Finley handed the brush back, her fingers brushing mine for a brief second, colder than I expected. “But I knew if I left that room, I’d never have the courage. So I did it then. On the spot.”

I waited for some kind of emotional response from her—heck, I would’ve accepted a physical one at this point. A nibble of the lip. Maybe the quiver of a brow. Something. Anything. But none came. She was back to the same old Finley from before this strange little interaction. Finley shrugged when I offered her no response, as if she hadn’t just spilled the juiciest confession I’d ever heard.

She peered over my shoulder with a smirk, “This is probably going to get weird,” she tugged at leather pants stretched to the limit, the moisture clinging to her skin as she fought to get them on. “Thanks for the therapy session. Tell your Seer she’s fired.”

And with that, she reached behind me, grabbing an equally tight thermal and dragging it over her wet hair. With a smile, she patted me on the shoulder and pushed her way past. My brain hurt, not understanding what had just happened. I have to stop making myself so approachable.

A tan, calloused hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked, startled back to reality.

“Oh,” I stammered, cheeks flushing as I set my gaze on yet another blonde in front of me, wrapped in nothing more than a waffle robe tied loosely around her athletic frame. “Hey, Millie.”

“Morning, sunshine.” Millie grinned, her shoulder grazing mine as she slipped into the stall that was apparently popular today. The brief contact between us sent a jolt of warmth through the crisp morning air. Her robe slipped from her shoulders and hit the ground—leaving nothing but sun-kissed skin and confidence behind.

I lowered my gaze to the ground, refusing to linger on her long, tan legs. The muscle in them certainly didn’t catch my eye when it hit the dim light perfectly. And her skin certainly did not appear soft as the beads of water dripped down her body.

“Sleep all right?” she asked casually, dropping her head back under the spray of water. The tents were heated making me grateful that at least this place had some kind of luxuries. Steam rose around her, wrapping her in a halo that made it sort of impossible not to steal a glance.

“As well as one can in the middle of all this,” I replied, trying and failing to focus on the wall instead of the way the water slipped down her collarbone, tracing lines I shouldn’t be thinking about.

“What’s wrong, warrior girl?” Millie teased, turning toward me, her voice soft but laced with that familiar playful edge. The water dripped from her lashes and darkened her hair until it clung to her waist. “Nervous about the real fight?”

I let out a slow, amused breath, turning to her with a smirk. “Nervous? I was only wondering if you’d be able to keep up.”

“I love a good challenge. Only one way to find out,” she said, smirking as she raked a hand through her wet hair, sending droplets flying in my direction with a careless flick of her fingers.

I took a step back, taking my towel in self-defense. “Watch it. You’ll ruin my … towel.”

Millie laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made the air feel a thousand degrees warmer. “Towel? Is that your armor of choice today, cowgirl?”

“Why not?” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s practical. Light. Easy to maneuver in.”

“You’ve got all the tactical advantages,” she said, grabbing the soap and lathering it in her hands, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s water resistant.”

Millie snorted, her freckled nose crinkled as she shook her head. The banter felt good—normal. Like it was okay to laugh. I bit down on my lip, cheeks heating.

Then the shouting erupted.

Distant at first, muffled by the thick walls, but they grew louder, sharper. Voices overlapping, urgency cutting through the air. My stomach dropped.

“What now?” Millie muttered, cutting the water off abruptly.

I didn’t have an answer. The noise outside had shifted into chaos—rapid footsteps, orders being barked, the unmistakable sound of equipment being shoved into packs. Millie grabbed her robe, wrapping it around her quickly. We stepped out into the main pathway of the camp. Soldiers moved frantically, faces tense. The amount of fear I felt was overwhelming. I gripped onto Millie’s arm for support, her hand wrapped around my waist as she pulled me back and out of the fray.

“We’re moving,” someone called out, rushing past us with an armful of supplies.

“Ronan?” Millie asked, but the fury in her emerald eyes told me she already knew the answer.

A response never came. The moment pressed in, thick and suffocating. And all I could think was not enough time .

“Reina!” someone shouted. I turned to see a Serenity waving me over.

“Let’s go,” I said, wrapping my free arm around Millie’s neck for support. The fear continued to increase, and I hadn’t been prepared to block it out before it’d become all-consuming. She nodded, the teasing smile gone, replaced by the hardened determination we all wore in moments like this.

The lull was over. It was time to fight.