She kept the smile pasted on her mouth, and after a couple minutes it did feel genuine. “Okay, so I need to smile. What else?”
“Promise not to be offended?”
“Uh uh. I don’t make promises like that. Spit it out.”
“You’re have to be…friendlier.”
Clara slipped a knife out from a hidden pocket on her leg. She carefully flipped the blade as they walked, smiling mischievously. “Friendlier? Prey tell, what about me isn’t friendly?”
Carver raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Do what to you?”
“Act like you don’t know what I’m talking about so that I have to spell it out. Then once I spell it out, you can pretend like it’s all new information and get offended, even though you knew exactly what I was talking about from the beginning.”
She put her knife away, losing the smile as well. She didn’t like being called out so specifically. “Sounds like that’s something you think I do often.”
“Not often,” he shrugged, “But it’s been known to happen.” It was a vague comment, one that hinted at their past. She hadn’t done it to him on this trip, so it had to be something he was still holding onto from previous years. She started to think back, trying to recall any incidents like that. Their past wasn’tsomething she wanted to ponder, so she quickly reigned in her thoughts. Remembering when she was his didn’t benefit her. It was still too painful.
“Fine.” Clara groaned the word, and raising her right hand continued, “I won’t point knives at people. At least not people we’re trying to befriend. I’ll smile. I’ll use less sarcasm. I won’t glare at people. Anything I’m missing?”
Carver merely shook his head at her antics, but she saw the hint of a smile and felt satisfied. “You’re also supposed to be my wife.”
“Anything but that,” she groaned again.
“Thanks.” He responded shortly.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I mean, technically, we just have the same last name. We could claim to be siblings instead. I know Command said husband and wife, but maybe we could take that as a suggestion instead of order.”
She held up her arm only an inch from his. Her white skin now pink from the sun was dotted with freckles. His skin had tanned, and darkened to several shades beyond where hers could ever get. “Really. They’ll believe we’re siblings.” Sarcasm dripped off every word, knowing that claiming to be siblings wouldn’t be believed.
“It’s either that or we’re married.”
She groaned again. “Fine. I guess we’re married. Wait actually, for us to be married and from Calyndor, what would that look like?”
He grimaced, and she reconsidered the sibling idea. “They’re known for their flirtation and PDA.”
“Ugh.” The sibling idea held even more appeal, but in her gut she knew it wouldn’t work. The mission came first.
“Yeah. Not ideal.”
“What if you were the adopted sibling?”
“Why do I have to be adopted?” He immediately shot back.
“Because, it was my idea?”
“I mean, I guess that could work,” he thought about it, head tilting back and forth as he considered the possibilities. “Well, actually, I don’t know that adoptions are big in Calyndor. It might raise suspicion.”
“So we have to be married?” She hated the idea. The last thing she wanted to do was pretend to be his wife. She would rather stick needles under her fingernails than pretend to be his wife.
“It is breaking a rule. But technically the assignment comes first is our first rule. So we’d be breaking a rule to follow a higher rule?”
“Interesting logic,” she muttered. It occurred to her how well he used logic to change the rules he had written. As much as it frustrated her, she didn’t have a good response to shut it down.
“Do you have a better idea?” She could hear the annoyance in his words, and she hated to admit it, he was right.
