He hadn’t bargained for how quickly they became familiar with one another again. He had to stop it before it was too late.
9CLARA
The second Carver finished his food he excused himself. Clara didn’t see him again until they were both on the train. “Food was good.” She commented as she climbed back up to her perch on the boxes.
Carver grunted in response. He was already lying on the ground. His eyes flickered closed, and he added no further comment, ending her attempt at conversation. He had tried so hard to converse with her at lunch in an effort to be a tad friendlier, she thought–for the sake of the assignment, of course.
It surprised her that he was unresponsive now. Surprised her, and offended her. It was stupid to think he had changed or they could be friends again.We can’t be friends again.She reminded herself. Too much had happened between them. She couldn’t just forgive and forget.I won’t.
She kept her eyes open this time. The small window provided enough light, but the glass was smudged and scratched so she couldn’t see any scenery. It was all just a blur. Like the past three years. It all felt like a blur.
And now, in the same space as Carver, everything felt more real. She could hear his every breath, feel his presence in the atmosphere. Though it grated on her nerves she couldn’t shutthe awareness of him down. She knew she could only lie to herself for so long, and at some point she would have to address the reasons she hated him so much. But for now, she re-focused on the assignment.
The packet Command gave her included a journal and map. She ran her fingers across the locations, using the name she had spotted at the previous town and her limited knowledge of train routes to guess where they were. If her guess was correct, they were making better progress than she thought.
She continued to trace her finger along the page until she reached Noxvalis. Even on the map it looked formidable. The walls surrounding the city were massive and marked by small, heavily guarded, gates. They would never have a shot at entering the city if it wasn’t for the party.
Clara pulled out the page that had her identity. She was recorded as Clara Brown. A basic name that wouldn’t draw any attention. Her occupation said she worked in the clothing industry, and was coming to view the fashions from her homeland Calyndor. She knew Carver’s paperwork listed the same homeland. They couldn’t avoid being seen together, so it had been decided their cover was a married couple.
Command had sprung that final edict this morning. She had almost scoffed–had almost begged them not to make her do that. But she was a soldier. She would do as she was told.
As if executing the most notorious ruler wasn’t enough of a challenge.
A sealed envelope fell out of the journal. She lifted it carefully, glancing down to make sure Carver wasn’t watching as she broke the seal.
“The Raven has the details on how to retrieve the weapon. Your job is to kill everyone who witnesses your entrance into the lab.”
She bit her lip. Blood on her lip, more blood on her hands.
“As instructed, you will leave the Raven in the lab to find the biological weapon. You will determine how to best draw the king out to assassinate him after the initial assignment. The vials must be retrieved; the king assassinated. Once inside, the Raven is no longer your concern.”
No longer my concern.In other words, if she could escape with the vials, she didn’t have to bring him with her. She could leave him to his own devices.
She stared at her hands then shifted her gaze to Reese’s bracelet. The black and white strands intertwined, and she twisted it around her wrist. Reese usually gave her colorful ones, but Clara thought this one may be her favorite, a wistful thought that the world could be black and white.
Carver turned over in his sleep, and Clara’s eyes caught on his face. She expected him to look restful in sleep, but his face contorted–eyebrows scrunching together, jaw set firmly, muscles randomly twitching. She looked back to her paperwork, her stomach churning.
She jumped when he cried out, desperately scrambling from the boxes to reach him. Her mind didn’t process what she was doing, it was just instinct. She banged her knee on one of the corners and swore under her breath.
She paused as she reached him, hands hovering over his shoulders to shake him awake.No physical contact. It’s one of the rules.She reminded herself, pulling her hands back and intertwining her fingers in her bracelet as he cried out again. “Carver, Carver?” She said his name softly at first, then louder until he awoke. “Carver?” She said again as he squinted up at her. The second his eyes opened, he scrambled back from her, bracing himself on his forearms.
His breaths came in quick bursts, and Clara was concerned he would hyperventilate. “What happened?” she asked, keepingher voice as soft as she could. Her eyes scanned him, looking for any kind of damage beyond the terror in his eyes.
He shook his head, trying to shake her questions away. “Just a nightmare,” he answered, falling back into his normal look of nonchalance.
“You cried out in pain.”
“It was just a nightmare.” He emphasized like it meant nothing. Like her heart wasn’t still racing from watching him writhe in his sleep. “I get them sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”
“Sometimes?” She questioned, knowing she shouldn’t press this, but unable to see him in pain though she’d never admit it, “Is that why you have dark circles under your eyes? Do you ever sleep normally? Isthisnormal for you?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” he warned, his voice gruff and frustrated. Frustrated at her. For gods sake she was just trying to help.
Clara quickly backed down. Of course she got in trouble for trying to help. Once again, it’s far better to be standoffish than to put yourself out there and get rejected. “Sorry for asking.” She said sharply, and turned her back to him as she stepped toward the crates.
He exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I meant, Clara.” She paused, but didn’t face him. The sound of her name on his lips sent a forbidden electricity through her veins. “I just meant, we agreed not to talk about our history. Or there being an us. So you can’t take care of me.”
She understood his confession, and knew she would have reacted far worse than he if he had seen her weakness. She nodded, still not turning around, and climbed back to her perch.
