Page 16 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)

Words spoken are planted in the garden of your heart to feed your life; choose wisely.

Can’t process . . .

Too many weapons, facts, safety features, and warnings jumbled together in my brain. Oh, the warnings. Do this, and you’ll fry your internal organs. Do that, and you’ll only have the strength to curl into the fetal position and sob. Forget this or that, and you’ll ravage such and such.

On the walk to lunch, I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of information.

Most of my classmates were already in the commons, congregated in the cozy, oversize living room with clusters of couches, matching recliners, and a pair of coffee tables.

The small section designated for dining showcased a wall of vending machines, offering snacks far better than the meal bars.

There was no sign of yesterday’s circle of pain.

“Did you guys read this?” Juniper stood near the “sandwich” machine, pointing to a sign above the ID pad. “We’re charged three trills or a two-hour shift of labor.”

Whoa. Three trills was an exorbitant amount for a seven-course dinner, much less a small sandwich. And. Hmm. The amount of labor wasn’t even close to being worth three trills. Why—oooh. A test. Everything was. I bet the moral of this one was, don’t choose today’s stomach over tomorrow’s future.

Smart. With my eye on the prize and only four trills in my account, with no new allotment due, the sandwiches weren’t even a temptation for me.

“Two hours of extra work is nothing when you’ll pay anything. I’m starved.” Jericho shoved his way over, pressed his palm against the pad, then pushed a few buttons. The machine spit out the promised sandwich.

“You’ll regret that,” Titus muttered.

“I have money. I regret nothing.” The second Jericho possessed the package, he tore into it, freeing the food and chomping a bite.

His eyes closed as he chewed. After he swallowed, he released a moan, as if he’d never tasted anything sweeter, and held out the food to Titus.

“You want a bite? Too bad.” He shoved what remained into his mouth and chewed too much at once, uncaring as crumbs tumbled out.

A few others rushed over to purchase a sandwich of their own.

I admit, envy pricked me. Maybe I experienced a little temptation.

But my determination didn’t waver. I had a competition to win.

Pleased with my restraint, I nabbed a free meal bar and a cup of hy-water.

The slightly bitter liquid provided the minerals and electrolytes the bar lacked.

Around me, conversations and laughter rose and ebbed.

Roman sat at the center of it all, holding court.

Lark perched at his side. A group of six stood off to the side, appearing as shell shocked as I felt.

Like me, these soldiers hadn’t forgotten our day was only half over.

Although, granted, I looked forward to our next class. Learning self-defense aided my mission.

In a corner alone, Titus finished off a meal bar. Out of everyone, he was the one I wished to get to know most. But as I approached him, he stiffened and stalked off.

Okay then. I tried not to let the obvious denunciation sting. Had I done something to offend him?

As I ate, I talked myself into and out of trying to converse with someone else. A desire to do as the HP suggested and get to know my teammates prevailed. Before I could select a second soldier, a sweating Mykal rushed into the commons. My relief at seeing her was short lived.

Spotting me, she hurried over, clasped my wrist and tugged me toward the door. “You’ve been summoned by His Lord High and Mighty. Don’t know why. Run to gym C as if your feet are on fire. Okay, bye!” She let go and shot off with the speed of a bullet.

Dread curdled in my stomach. I didn’t have to wonder what had sparked this. The HP had learned of my faux pas in Realms and Travel. I trudged to the gym, hoping against hope I’d bump into Shiloh, my sole source of comfort. Alas, he never appeared.

Worked into a lather but fighting to hide it, I entered the gym.

My heart stuttered as soon as I spotted the high prince.

He sat on a bench, facing a bank of lockers, his back to me.

He’d changed into a tight T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and huge biceps.

A pair of shorts revealed well-defined legs with a light dusting of hair.

He didn’t glance my way but called, “Lady Pink. Come here.”

The fact that he’d known of my arrival without turning ... Trying not to wilt, I marched over and stopped behind him. At least he hadn’t referred to me as “miss.”

He pointed to the space in front of him. I swallowed a groan and dragged my feet to the commanded spot, suddenly hemmed in by the cold metal lockers and the hot, frightening instructor.

He was in the process of wrapping tape around his knuckles. Beads of sweat dripped from his temples. “You ran out of the archduke’s class.” My great leader didn’t bother to meet my gaze, just continued to prepare for battle. “Convince me you had a good reason to do something so ill advised.”

Knew it! “I verged on having a panic attack, si—High Prince.”

He worked his jaw. “ Sir is fine. Continue with your explanation. Because I know you’re not foolish enough to think a panic attack makes what you did okay.”

Why was sir fine now but not before? “No. Yes. I—”

My speech faltered when he stood, suddenly towering over me.

He reached over my shoulder for a towel.

For a moment, his breath fanned my face.

His chest nearly brushed mine. I refused to back up, thereby giving in to a surge of intimidation.

Yes, yes, intimidation and nothing else .

The fact that his incredible scent sent my pulse into overdrive meant nothing.

“Let’s be clear. You’re telling me meeting the medic in the hallway had nothing to do with it,” he said, dabbing his face with the cloth.

I narrowed my eyes. Was I being surveilled? “He was in the area, saw me, and helped. Nothing more.”

The HP met my gaze at last, and I almost wished he hadn’t.

Cold fury stared back at me. “When you exited the classroom without permission, you disrespected Archduke Heta and disrupted his lecture. Both are punishable offenses. As your superior, I’m responsible for teaching you the error of your ways. ”

“I’ve learned, I promise. Sir. But if I’d sought permission, I would’ve disrupted his lecture far more. By leaving, I allowed him to continue without interference.”

“Clearly, you’ve learned nothing. What are excuses, Miss Roosa?”

My lips pursed. Back to miss . “Lipstick on fear, High Prince Dolion.”

He crossed his arms over his pecs. “Stake your life on your defense of your actions, and I’ll inform Archduke Heta no further punishment is required. But I’ll also insist you prove your case.”

Dang him. He’d backed me into a corner. “What’s my punishment?” I grumbled.

“I’ll put it in terms you’re sure to understand. To produce good fruit, you must be pruned. Consider me the wielder of the gardening shears. Report to my office after drills.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push for more details, which would possibly earn a second punishment. But, um, how did he plan on pruning me? Wondering for the rest of the day was going to suck on every level.

“Sir, if I may—”

“You may not. I’ll hear my thanks now.”

He couldn’t be serious. But his hard stare said he was. “Thank you, sir,” I gritted out.

“The lighter your sentence, the less honor I pay a man I admire. I’m furious with myself for not locking you in solitary with a hologram. Don’t make it worse for either of us.”

Put like that ... “Thank you, sir. Truly.”

He held my gaze, silent, and something strange arced through me. Something I couldn’t name. Because I didn’t want to.

“I should probably, um ...” I backed up.

“Go.” He motioned with his head. “Join the others.”

Eager to leave his vicinity, I shuffled over to the mat. The rest of the team had arrived during our consultation. Most gazed at me with curiosity, but only Roman approached.

“You get reamed for what happened in Heta’s class?” he asked, ruffling my hair.

“Thoroughly.” My nose crinkled as I batted his hand away.

He laughed. “Next time stay put, even if you’re screaming. Trust that your instructor will help you.”

Yeah, okay, that made sense. “Thank you for the tip. It does help.”

“Everything I say does.”

I rolled my eyes at him and got another laugh.

Two medics strode into the room. Shiloh!

Without thought, I waved and smiled at him.

His companion snickered and elbowed him in the stomach.

Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t publicly broadcast our acquaintance.

There might be a rule against medics and gentry mixing.

But Shiloh waved and smiled in return, unabashed.

“Take your places,” the HP commanded, stalking to the mat’s center. The bell rang.

Only Roman knew what take your places meant, and we followed his lead, branching out to surround our instructor from the edges.

The high prince lifted his face, projecting all kinds of annoyance. “First things first. Cash lied during his evaluation. Now everyone else is being rewarded for telling the truth with a valuable lesson. I never make empty threats.”

Our collective attention zoomed to Cash, who hung his head in shame.

“He will remain silent for two weeks,” the HP added, not quite scowling but close. “If he speaks, even once, he’ll wear a muzzle. One way or another, he will comprehend the importance of having a voice and using it well, or he will suffer.”

My dread returned, doubled. Seriously, what did the high prince have in store for my pruning?

“Moving on.” His expression remained unchanged. “This is self-defense. You may have taken lessons before, but I’d advise you to forget everything you think you know. The maddened of Theirland aren’t like those you’ve encountered in Ourland.”

Thanks to Archduke Heta, I knew that quite well.