He stepped carefully back across the train to sit. “Thank you.” He answered with direct eye contact, and after a couple seconds Clara had to look away. He was still so attractive to her. Even with how much weight he had lost and the circles under his eyes.
The unkempt hair? Well…that was actually an improvement over his perfectly gelled style. She wondered for a moment what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair now. Theywouldn’t get stuck anymore, and he probably wouldn’t even be annoyed at her for messing his hair up this time.
He caught her looking at him and raised his shoulders in a silent question. She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks. “Good burrito, right?” She pulled the journal out of her bag, pretending she was focused. She started drawing on the first page, trying to get her thoughts together. She couldn’t look at him like that. She definitely couldn’t imagine touching him. Rule 3. She certainly wouldn’t break that one. An avid rule follower, she couldn’t break any of them.
The train ride eventually smoothed out. Once she started sketching, she didn’t want to stop. It was very simple at first. A sketch of the training room, the punching bag centered instead of in the corner. But then the edges grew darker, and weapons filled the room. A dark splotch of blood consumed the right corner as if someone had died just off the page. Morbid, but she felt calmer with the darkness outside of her mind instead of bouncing around the edges of her brain.
“I didn’t know you could draw.”
She pulled the journal to her chest protectively as she looked up to see Carver. “I can’t.” She bit back, though the retort was weak.
He looked unamused. “Clara, I saw what you drew. You can draw.”
She didn’t bother with a second rebuttal. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not even that great.”
He raised his eyebrows and she felt her jaw clench in an effort to ignore how cute that look was on him.I don’t like him. I don’t like him. I don’t like him.
“You’re pretty great. I sure can’t draw like that.”
“Oh, yes, and you’re certainly the measure of success.”
He grinned, “Absolutely. Have you ever known me to be bad at anything?”
Her mind spun. He was so frustrating. And, no, she couldn’t think of anything he sucked at. But she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him that. Then it hit her. “Yeah, I can.”
“Oh?” He enjoyed the back and forth, waiting for her to come up with something random she could barely accuse him of. She had more than he expected and she knew that.
“You’re extremely bad at relationships.”
The humor evaporated, and she watched pain flare in his eyes before he masked it. “Low blow.”
She shrugged. “Yes, yes it was.” She was dangerously close to addressing their history, but again, the rules. She needed Carver out of her space. Right. Now. “Will you sit down so I can get back to drawing? Or will you keep standing there, staring at me like an idiot?”
He gritted his teeth, and she wished she hadn’t noticed the sharp edge of his jaw again. Nothing about him was actually helpful for this situation.Except his personality,she had to concede. But even that was hit or miss. She was either more desperate to have him, or desperate to make sure no one else ever had him. By, you know, killing him, of course.
14CARVER
Carver sat down without another comment. She was absolutely ridiculous. She was right, but ridiculous. How they ended wasn’t his fault. At least not entirely. She never should have followed him to the army. That’s where it all started. If she had just stayed. Stayed with her mom. Stayed safe. Stayed away from him.
He was the one with something to prove. He was the one with a chip on his shoulder. The war had taken his father, and as a consequence his mother. One of his father’s best friends, who became Carver’s mentor, drafted him in long before he officially signed up. He could still see the shock on Clara’s face when he told her he had enlisted. Tears filled her eyes immediately, but she was too kind to respond with anger in the moment. Anger came after the news fully processed and she didn’t speak to him for almost a week. They lived on the same property, yet she wouldn’t deign to acknowledge him.
When the week was over, she came back with an entirely new attitude. Things were back to being good. He loved her, told her so, and told her once basic training was over for him, he would propose. He bought a ring the week before basic training, and stored it with his clothing the day he left.
He never expected to see her in the line up. The first day of basic was mostly paperwork; men and women were separated. Clothing was issued, rooms were assigned. It was strategic, and preparation for the difficult training about to ensue.
Day 2, they lined up and met their commanders and training groups. Training groups included men and women, and somehow, whatever form of fate existed put Clara in his group. He almost screamed at her there and then. She wouldn’t look at him. She held her head high, and the look of utter confidence was one he’d never seen her wear. Damn her stubbornness.
Even then, he thought it would be a matter of time before she dropped out. But she had done something he never expected of her. She not only survived, she thrived.
Carver pulled out his own journal, and jotted down some of these thoughts. The train car lurched and he cursed under his breath as his pen slid across the page leaving an ugly line behind. He noticed Clara stand out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t look as she stretched. Watching her would not help his thoughts be more constructive.
He kept writing, losing himself in the words. When the train rolled to a stop, he was surprised by how much time actually passed. Like habit, the door was opened, and Clara hopped off without comment.
He got off long enough only to get food, and then resumed his writing. It helped bring some clarity to the thoughts he had too often. He hated this war–hated what it had taken from him. His father, his mother, Clara. Everything he loved, taken from him because of Noxvalis.
Noxvalis was more scientifically advanced than Quorath, and they desired world domination. They remained peaceful only to the kingdoms that were as advanced as them, or offered a trade they couldn’t resist. It was people from these kingdoms that would attend the festival.
The kingdom of Calyndor, for example, had offered one of the royal daughters in marriage to the prince of Noxvalis—cementing the alliance between the two kingdoms. The girl was queen now. She married in only months before the prince succeeded his father. It was all political, all about power. And he hated it.
