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S asha 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 their choices 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 much simpler 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.

I turned, my eyes landing on a tall, lean-bodied woman that had to be a few years older than me.

Twenty maybe? Her blonde hair was swept back in the most intense braided bun I had ever seen.

Crisp green eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones, sharp pointed features, and a body I knew was stunning under the casual cadet uniform of green shirt and tan cargo pants. This girl was smoking hot.

“Move it, sunshine,” she bit out as she pulled back my sheets.

“Hey! I’m going, I’m going.” I narrowed my eyes at her as I climbed out of bed. A quick glance around showed me that the barrack was empty. All the other girls must have gone already. Only their beds remained with neatly tucked sheets, everything in its place.

“I’m not going to wait all day, soldier, so let’s go .”

I shot a glare at her as I rummaged through my trunk at the foot of my bed and grabbed a clean shirt and pants.

This girl might be beautiful, but her temperament did little to match.

But, then again, everyone at this damn base had been kind of snippy, so I wasn’t that surprised.

I rushed over to the bathroom, changed out of my clothes, ran a brush through my hair to tame the rat’s nest, and wrangled it all into as neat of a bun as I could.

That’s how they liked it around here…always in a bun and out of the way.

A quick look in the mirror showed me I looked like every other soldier on base—standard issued olive-green shirt, tan cargo pants, black boots, neat hair, and absolutely nothing that would make me stand out or unique. Just another face in the ranks.

“Your reflection hasn’t changed from yesterday, soldier,” she snapped. I poked my head out, catching her gaze. She was standing stiff as a board with arms locked behind her back. But her eyes looked…stabby.

I decided I didn’t like this girl. I left the bathroom, threw my pajamas into my trunk, and then began to make my bed.

It was a big deal if you didn’t make your bed.

You got all sorts of extra kitchen duty and yelled at a lot if you left your stuff all disorganized.

And I did not need extra chores. As it was, I overslept.

I could only imagine how much trouble I was going to be in with my sergeant.

“Leave it,” Blondie ordered as she turned on her heels and started walking away.

“But I’ll—”

“I said leave it , soldier. Now let’s go.”

I could feel everything inside me bristle. What the hell was her problem? “If I leave it, I’m going to—”

She whipped around, casting me the coldest stare that sent ice running down my spine. “I don’t care if you get kitchen duty for a month. I said to move your ass and follow me, got that?”

My heart started thrumming in my chest. “Well, I care, so I’m—”

Blondie rushed me, putting her face right up into mine, our noses almost touching. “You will leave it as instructed. I’ve got orders to bring you to President De’vor, so get your ass in gear and move it!”

I was filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the urge to shove this girl into next week was incredibly tantalizing.

And I so did not want her to think that her dominatrix attitude could make me do anything that she wanted.

But, on the other hand, she shared a tidbit of information that was way more intriguing than any urge to engage in a power play was.

She was taking me to Sasha. And seeing Sasha was top on my priority list because it meant I was going to finally get some answers.

I took a step away from Blondie, forcing a smile. “After you,” I said, holding my arm out for her to lead the way.

Her eyes narrowed further, lips set in a thin line, but she moved forward, shoulder-checking me as she walked by and out the door. I resisted the urge to say anything, and instead, stayed focused on the fact that I was going to see Sasha.

We marched across the concrete jungle that was Fort Warren, passing airplane hangars, the men’s barracks, and a parking lot filled with Humvees, until we finally reached the administration building.

Blondie led the way, marching us right in, passing the front desk, and down the hallway.

And that’s when we arrived at a small conference room, very similar to the Situation Room I had been in earlier in the week.

And when we walked in, I found Sasha and Fisher waiting for me.

“President De’vor, First Commander Fisher,” Blondie acknowledged as she saluted them.

Fisher beamed at her. “Thank you, Miss Haeflinger.” She gave him a warm smile and a quick tip of her head before turning, glaring at me, and stepping out of the room.

Relief swept through me knowing Blondie wasn’t staying for this meeting. I turned to look at Sasha and Fisher, both of whom had calm expressions. “What’s going on?” I wanted to get whatever this was going. I had a million questions, and I really wanted answers for each one of them.

“Good morning, Miss de la Puente,” Fisher said, the words coming out stiff and less than genuine. “So good of you to join us.”

The desire to roll my eyes and cross my arms was fierce but required way too much energy from me.

Picking a silent fight with the North’s First in Command wasn’t going to earn me any brownie points.

And in truth, I didn’t think it was worth my time.

So I settled for a curt nod and smile before turning my attention to Sasha.

“So, you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Good morning to you too, child.” She sat in her chair, perfect posture as always.

“I’m glad to see you could join us for our meeting.

” I couldn’t help it this time. I did roll my eyes.

The pomp and circumstance and pleasantries were delaying what I really wanted, and that was information.

She cleared her throat softly. “Your manners will be something we’ll need to work on. ”

I pinched my brows. “What do you want, Sasha? I’ve been living on a military base most of the summer. Add that to the fact that I haven’t heard from you in days with no updates on anything. Pardon me if my patience is wearing thin and my etiquette is a little rusty.”

She turned her gaze to the table, reaching for a teacup I hadn’t noticed, and drew it to her lips, sipping it painfully slow. It was all a show, making a point that she didn’t take orders from me.

I bit my cheek, trying so hard not to let my temper flare. “Good morning, Sasha. Would you please tell me why I’m here?” I tried my best to sound calm and polite, but I was pretty sure it came out tight and grating.

She took another sip before looking back at me.

“That was better. Not perfect, but better.” She placed the cup back on its saucer.

“I knew your father well, as well as his distasteful wife. I have no doubt that they held you to high standards in their household, and the Calvernons will expect the same. It would do you well to remember your etiquette while you’re there. ”

There? “What do you mean? Where am I going?”

This time, Fisher answered. “Miss de la Puente, I’m here to escort you to the Calvernon Estate.”

“ What? ” My stomach dropped. The thought of going to Wes’s house made me feel uneasy. “Why?”

Sasha breathed evenly, appearing tired. “You are being relocated to the estate. Since we’ve accepted Charles’s terms, he no longer wants you living in the barracks. He wants you staying at the estate.”

Whoa! “Wait a minute…” My brain suddenly felt as though it were spinning. I was going to live at the estate? As in, live with Wes ? This wasn’t happening. “Why? What’s going on?”

Sasha spoke up this time. “It’s nothing but a precaution, child, and a formality. As the future First Lady of the North, it’s hardly appropriate for you to live on a military base. Northern tradition dictates you live at the estate.”

“But why can’t I live somewhere else? I mean, isn’t it inappropriate for me to be living with my fiancé or something?” I was scrambling. As much as the barracks sucked, the thought of moving into the Calvernon Estate had my insides wringing themselves out.

“Nonsense,” Fisher stated.

“But you guys were all on me, like, two seconds ago, about manners. How does this make any sense—”

“Child,” Sasha cut in firmly, “I can understand your point, but this is a choice that is out of our hands. President Calvernon has requested that you be relocated to the estate. And we will comply with his request seeing as how we are currently relying on his good will. Do you understand?”

My mouth fell open, but I had nothing. There was nothing I could say to that. I closed my mouth, swallowing hard, and then nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Very good,” she stated curtly as she rose from her seat. “You will follow First Commander Fisher to the car.”

I was desperate, grasping at straws, trying to delay the unavoidable. “I’ve got to get my stuff. I haven’t packed, and I need—”

This time, Fisher cut in. “Your belongings have already been gathered from the barracks.”

I stood there in the silence, feeling the anxiety pooling in my stomach. This was it. I was out of excuses. It was time to face the outcome of the decision I had made. And the worst part was…Edith was right. I was already regretting it.

FML.