Page 22 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)

“I’m brave,” I mouthed. I’d find Shiloh later and find out what was going on.

The corner of the HP’s mouth twitched. “Recall what I told you about RVM in Theirland. Outside of Cured ’s buildings, the world appears upside down unless you’re wearing a lens.

On the off chance your lens ever fails, you must learn how to operate accordingly.

I’m programming your goggles to invert your vision. Engage.”

I pressed the button, causing the lens to lower again. In an instant, my world went topsy turvy, the ceiling swapping places with the floor. Nausea instantly struck. Around me, several soldiers toppled, unable to stand. How I remained upright, I wasn’t sure.

“During round two, there will be two holograms rather than one.” The monsters appeared at the HP’s side, and I flinched. “Activate dark mode.”

I swallowed a ball of apprehension as I adjusted my lens, but it didn’t help. Especially when the cloak of darkness returned, erasing my surroundings. Fewer people, double the holograms.

“You’ve probably noticed the sensation of being upside down stays with you, even without visual aid,” our leader said. “Learn to deal with it. Go.”

Ack! With a huff, I charged for the wall with more confidence than before. Pandemonium ruled when other trainees did the same. I crashed into someone and ricocheted backward, slamming into someone else, who shoved me. “Sorry, sorry,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

A hologram flashed into my line of sight.

I didn’t hesitate, diving to the right. Someone—Juniper—grunted.

Oh, no! My actions caused her harm. But I didn’t apologize.

Not this time. Noise would only draw a hologram our way.

Instead, I scrambled up and charged for the wall with renewed energy, ducking and dodging any trace of action while my entire world remained inverted.

Come on, come on. I must, must, must almost probably be close to the cubbies.

Fingers snagged in my hair, yanking me backward. I landed on a fallen lord-in-training. Someone stomped on my hand. I yelped at the pain but surged to my feet, determined to win this. Not for the meal vouchers—not anymore—but to feed a stubbornness I hadn’t known I possessed. I could do this.

Another hologram flashed into my path, reaching for me. I twisted to avoid—boom! Another soldier knocked into me, and we crashed to the floor. Others rushed over me as I grappled for purchase.

An elbow slammed into my face. More pain flared, and my world spun. Stars winked inside my head. Blood poured from my nose, a loud roar in my ears.

I swiped at my mouth, mopping up the blood, then stood, burning through every ounce of adrenaline swamping my veins.

“Round over,” the HP said as I took my first step.

“No!” The denial burst from my tongue. I couldn’t have lost in round two.

My world righted as I lifted my lens. Oh, I’d lost all right. The cubbies were filled, several teammates eyeing me with sympathy.

Jericho winked. “No meal vouchers for you and your new bump buddy, eh, Ardie. Bet you lost your shot at top soldier too. Not that you ever had one.”

I ground my teeth, angry, disappointed and embarrassed.

“Roosa, you’re out,” High Prince Dolion announced, devoid of emotion. His arctic expression proved worse than my injuries. “Get her to an exam room.”

A medic rushed over to press a piece of cloth beneath my stinging nose and help me to my feet.

I stumbled out the door as the HP began his explanation of round three.

For some reason, leaving him was the last straw, and I teared up.

It wasn’t that the HP was a comforting presence.

I just—I missed my mom more than ever. And my plants.

And Shiloh and Mykal. The HP was the next best thing.

Someone I had begun to kind of, sort of trust.

The medic ushered me to the medical sector. He tried to whisk me into exam room one, but I recalled Shiloh’s promise the day I’d run out of Archduke Heta’s class and entered the second instead.

“Is Shiloh around?” I asked as my companion collected a vial of blood.

He walked out of the room, silent, no doubt afraid of being recorded. Alone, I checked the gurney for a message from Shiloh. Dang. Nothing.

I sat again, acting totally normal as the tech wheeled in a large machine. He x-rayed my hands and face, then gently palpated my nose. Sharp stings flared and subsided.

“Well?” A second try wouldn’t hurt. “Is Shiloh around or not?”

“Do not leave this room,” he said, exiting with the machine, then closing the curtain.

I lay back. Sat up. Walked around. Sat down. Hours passed before High Prince Dolion entered as if he owned the place, easing a tight knot of tension between my shoulders. Except, hmm. A fresh cut marred his branded cheek, a bead of blood leaking from the edge.

“Anything broken?” he demanded. He hadn’t changed since I’d last seen him, yet he looked completely different. Frayed to the point of exhaustion, maybe.

“No, sir.” The medic rushed up behind him. “She’s cleared for transport.”

I gripped my knees. Shouldn’t I be the first to hear news about the condition of my body?

The medic motioned to the HP’s wound. “Should I bandage your—”

“You are dismissed.”

The medic beat feet.

The HP pulled the curtain, excluding our third wheel, and collected my reader. “How do you feel?” he asked, looking over the information. No emotion infused his voice.

“Isn’t that a question you should ask my doctor?” I batted my lashes at him.

“Probably. But I asked you.”

Honestly? “I’m fine.” Mostly. “How about you? What happened?” I motioned to his wound. “You’re bleeding.”

He hiked his shoulders, unconcerned. “I hit a door on my way here.”

“No, really. What happened?” I asked. His lips pursed, and I barked out a laugh. How unlike the always-observant HP. I wonder what had distracted him. “Who won the competition?”

“Who do you think?” His dry tone told me all I needed to know.

“Roman.” Of course.

“It came down to him and Titus. Roman reached the cubby first but offered it to Titus in exchange for a truce. Titus refused.” Satisfaction flashed over the HP’s features as he admitted, “Jericho is the one who hit you, and he lost the round after yours.”

I didn’t like Jericho, but I couldn’t blame him for the hit. Who knew how many soldiers I’d injured during the game.

Dr. Korey entered, smiling when she spotted the HP. She opened her mouth to speak.

“I require time alone with the patient,” he announced before she uttered a word, never glancing up.

She paused, clearly startled by the statement. “I’m your doctor, not some random medic.” Determined, she crossed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. When he stiffened but continued reading, she reached for his face. “Let me tend to—”

He jerked from her touch and scowled, giving her the briefest glare. “Go.”

Hmm. Rumors about his disdain for the brand were true. A tidbit for the mental file I was compiling on him. But the real headliner was the certain romantic relationship between the HP and the doctor. They might not be a couple right now, but at some point they had been.

With a stiff nod and an embarrassed glance at me, she too left us alone. I had a sinking feeling Mykal was right. Dr. Korey was the type to blame others for her problems, and I’d just climbed to the top of her hit list.

“Why are you here?” I asked and sighed. “Sir.”

“Several reasons, but I’ll only discuss one.” At ease again, he settled on the stool beside my bed, his attention riveted on me. “I have questions, and you have answers.”

“You’re not the only one with questions,” I muttered.

“Very well. We’ll do an exchange, and I’ll be as forthcoming as you. So tell me. Have you noticed any strange behavior from your boyfriend, the medic, lately?”

Oh no, no, no. He must suspect Shiloh of being a Soalian, like Ember. Or he’d learned of my encounter with the woman. I floundered for a response. “Um. We haven’t put a label on our relationship.”

The HP offered a humorless smile, all lady, please .

“Allow me to rephrase. Have you noticed any strange behavior from Shiloh Cruz?” When I hesitated, he added, “I’ll make it easy on you.

Do you think it’s possible Shiloh is a Soalian?

More specifically, do you believe he’s working with a group led by his sister, Ember Cruz, who serves as one of John Victors’s seconds? Yes or no?”

And there it was. Confirmation of my fears.

I shifted, uncomfortable. If I said no, which was what I honestly believed, and the medic ever tested positive or consorted with his sister, I’d be castigated for my poor judgment or suspected of aiding him.

But saying yes would only doom both Shiloh and me to endless testing and suspicion. I might be kicked out of the academy.

“I’m dealing with a possible head injury, High Prince Dolion. We should probably save this topic for another time.”

The HP remained undeterred. He stood and moved directly in front of me, a tower of strength and determination.

His heady scent enveloped me, and I shivered.

Without thought, I began to reach for his wounded cheek, intending to wipe away a new bead of blood.

Thankfully I caught myself before making contact.

At least he didn’t cringe from the thought of contact.

“Give me an answer,” he demanded.

I licked my lips. Very well. “Anything is possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s happened.” There. A nonanswer. “My turn to ask a question. Do you think Shiloh is a Soalian working for his sister?”

“Since I’m being as forthcoming as you, I just say maybe I do, maybe I don’t.

” He leaned in to lightly pinch my chin and shift the angle of my face.

The (almost) affectionate action, his incredible warmth, and those wonderfully abrasive calluses rattled me more than ever.

A muscle jumped beneath his wound. “Jericho left you with a bruise.”